by Elias Caldera on May 20th, 2014, 10:52 pm
There were often too few words a man could call upon to sufficiently detail the amount of confusion and bewilderment one might have felt in the situation Elias now found himself caught up in. As for himself, the Caldera had long ago discovered there were three words in particular that proved quite satisfactory in summing up how he felt when he was just too discombobulated to know how he felt.
"What. The petch..."
He knew this sym, Elias had realized, it was the same one that had pulled him from the mob weeks ago during the riot, and it had been the same one to involve itself in the affairs of the poison maker, Inoadar. That incident had been as abrupt as it had been bizarre, something this spider appeared to excel at. Elias looked at the thing's offered hand incredulously, obviously not going to take it, especially not when the bloody blade that had been meant for his neck was still threateningly held in the other. A small, but very, very pessimistic sigh of relief rolled across him as the creature visibly slumped, the tension and anger fading from its pale body. It was replaced with sorrow instead, something the still very perplexed mage could not explain. The symenestra looked at them both, but lastly at Red -as was apparently the girl's name- with a clear pain and anguish in his inhuman eyes. The thing, Vayl -as apparently was his name- slithered from the store, its remorseful spiel clearly cutting deep into Redd as she stood protectively over him. She looked at Elias apathetically after a moment, apologized, then followed her lover out the front door. At least, that's what Elias had concluded those two were. He had simply stumbled upon some lover's quarrel, and, as his luck would have it, had the misfortune of being the third wheel.
Alone in his pile of mismatched good, Elias picked himself up off the floor, needless to say quite befuddled and upset. Unfortunately, that had been the last of his troubles. As he dusted his pants off and straitened his shirt, he caught sight of a massive pair of boots standing in front of him. He groaned and slowly peered up, his eyes catching sight of the gigantic bruiser that they belonged to glaring back at him, club in hand. The man did not look happy, and for some inexplicable reason, Elias just knew that meant he wasn't going to be happy either.
Their following 'conversation' went as such: "Now hold on. I said hold on, buster. This wasn't my fault." Silence. Menacing. "In fact, you let the one who did it walk out of here not two ticks ago, so if I were you-" Glaring, proceeded by unscrupulous hoisting and flailing. "Unhand me! How dare you! Unhand me I say." A great indignation and helplessness, interrupted only when the brute must have noticed a scarf stuck to the bottom of Elias's unceremoniously kicking feet, because he plucked the thing off and expectantly shoved it in the mage's reddening face. "What! No, I will not! Its barely even torn!" Another demanding shove of the fabric, inevitably followed by the reluctant retrieval of his purse and a truly awkward moment were Elias simply hung there in the air, angrily counting out his coin.
As one might suspect, the native Ravokian eventually found himself tossed out unto the slick city street, his bag soon sailing through the air after him, followed by a scarf, a cloak that was not his, and the meanest damn scowl Elias had ever been given. He returned it, with a few choice gestures and curses of his own as well, but only after the man had retreated back inside and closed the shop's door behind him. Angry, resentful, practically robbed, and now wet. Thank you Rhysol, thank you so very much. He groaned, bitterly, kicking at a puddle on the street and sending a spray of muddy rainwater into canal. "Bullshyke." He muttered to himself, the light rain already soaking his shoulders and long black hair. It was certainly ironic, he thought, considering he had planned to buy a cloak just a few chimes ago. He sighed and looked down at the girl's instead. It was a dozen or so sizes too small for him, but as the droplets grew heavier, he found himself more and more tempted.
He wrapped the thing around himself as best he could, throwing the hood up over his head and was immediately assaulted by the powerful odor of wet dog. He grimaced, remember the tale the girl had told him of the wolves attacking her. He had assumed it had been a while ago for some reason, but the current smell he had blanketed himself in hinted differently. He wrinkled his noise, but that was all he could do. It was either that or hypothermia and a long walk home. Instead he set off at a weak pace, hopelessly trying to stave off the weather from ruining what purchases he had been able to make that day.
~~~~~~~~~~
As Redd wandered the city in vain, her mind in turmoil over the events she had just endured, she would begin to take notice of the familiar scents wafting her way, even through the rain. Though difficult to identify as they were so weak, they gradually became stronger and stronger the nearer she approached the first human she saw, a man cloaked in dark black and huddling over himself in the rain. As she neared and inquired about a ferry, the man turned around, his gold toothed grin and gaunt, bearded face instantly recognizable. When his two companions slipped out of seemingly nowhere to join him and surround the young kelvic, he spoke, his tone malicious and mocking.
"Aw, leaving so soon?" the slaver said, a wicked smile creeping its way unto his lips.
Last edited by
Elias Caldera on May 26th, 2014, 4:06 am, edited 2 times in total.
