An inaudible gasp escaped Vala's lips. She realized she had been making a scene in the busy courtyard, but she had expected an angry reprimand from a passing Endal at most, not actual physical intervention. Vala was sick and tired of being so weak; she couldn't pull away from the stranger's firm though not purposefully hurtful, grip. He pulled her through the crowd, unaware or uncaring that he inadvertently forced her into bumping into many other passing shoppers. They were mostly quick and slight brushes of the arm or hand, but the few that were skin to skin wrought pained mewls from the tortured girl. She bit her lip to distract herself from the emotional distress, but it wasn't enough. Her mind reeled unable to cope. She needed something else to occupy her mind. The world was moving too fast, she couldn't focus on anything. There was one thing, though, that remained constant through out the ordeal - the man. Her watering blue eyes honed in on the man before her. She couldn't catch a proper glimpse of his face, but she tried to analyze everything else about him. He was shirtless, clad in a beaded black byrda, his pale, bare back sporting a speckling of light freckles. Almost instantly, by some random and eerie 6th sense, Vala saw Glassblower written all over him. It was something about the pale, yet heat hardened flesh of his arms and chest that screamed to Vala - hours of working before a fiery oven; his muscles were taught and wiry, but not bulky like one would expect from a blacksmith or the like. Vala was willing to bet ten pinions he was a glassblower… or maybe just five. She was a little distracted by the pretty feather earrings that fluttered by his ears. Now that she was under the impression her abductor was a glassblower, Vala was starting to feel a little more subdued, that and she caught sight of the sheathed sword at his hip. It was a very beautiful sheath, holding a very dangerous weapon; she was a hot headed Inarta, not a stupid twit. Vala was al ready to talk her way out of the situation, and possibly into the stranger's good graces, as she was rubbing her sore wrist, when her plans were rudely interrupted by Ronin's misplaced gallantry. She had no inclination of getting in between the men, or getting caught in their crossfire. She chose to side step, out of Ronin's shadow, to form a crude triangle - just incase she needed to jump out of any exchanged blows; the man had pulled them aside to a less crowded area, giving them more breathing space, as well as taking the edge off the stifling feeling of being surrounded. "Stop!" Vala cried out. Her shrill voice piercing the noise of the crowded courtyard. "I'm sorry Fenilen!" She has cringed at the sound of his placating words, laced with an accent she couldn't place. She tried to hide a xenophobic smirk; he had a knife. "Ronin shush." Vala tried to subtly motion towards Fenilen's hip. She tried not to catch the green gaze of the armed stranger with her (not so subtle) points, but she wasn't very effective. She continued to try and control the situation, while unconsciously scratching the flesh off her wrist. Her shallow breaths gave her speech a hurried tone, coincidentally hiding the falseness of her honeyed words. "Please, please let's all calm down for a minute. My name is Vala and my friend's name is Ronin. We were just having a bit of a fight, we didn't mean to disturb anyone. Please forgive us…" She gave Fenilen another once over. He was obviously a native of Wind Reach, but something just felt off - she didn't want to ask until she knew the boys weren't going to kill each other. Vala didn't feel angry anymore, mostly just ashamed and dirty. Her scratches, while shallow, were insistent, and fairly close to drawing blood. |