How Hard Can It Be? (Azira)

by **Zhol** on September 7th, 2014, 12:34 am

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Zhol dodged, but only slightly: not enough to avoid Azira's blow from landing completely, merely to move a different target into it's path; specifically, his injured shoulder. The half-hearted effort at evasion was not for lack of time however; and it wasn't some ploy of confidence, some show of endurance. There was a certain sad resignation to it; and a certain grateful suffering of the fresh pain that exploded from his already aching shoulder.

He should apologise. He should block. He should do something. The desire to protect himself from harm wasn't there. It wasn't masochism, and not a death wish; it ran deeper than that. It was almost as if her anger and violence satisfied some need within him; some unresolved emotional conflict. He deserved this, and while perhaps not for this reason, in the grand scheme of things his ledger would slowly begin to balance out. Each ounce of pain was one step towards justice, redemption, and all those things that a part of him felt on the wrong side of.

"Is that all you've got?"

He didn't analyse this time; not aloud, at least. She wouldn't have heard him anyway: anger this deep and this intense didn't often surface without being all-consuming. Perhaps he was wrong about her; perhaps he was right. At this stage, it didn't make much of a difference. She didn't seem to be able to see past her anger, and didn't want anyone else to be able to either; but with it dislodged, with it vented, with it appeased, maybe it would give her a shot at clarity.

If not, every second of anger exacted against him was a second spared from anyone else; a service to the city and the Inarta, perhaps, to clear a little of the enormous debt he owed.

"Come on you petching Glassbeak -" The words were uttered, but there was no truth to them, no venom or spite; just words to provoke, like a lure to a hawk. "- I thought you were supposed to be a hunter. Stop hitting like a girl."

"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.

by **Azira** on September 8th, 2014, 10:15 am

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He did little to avoid her wrathful attack but Azira hardly noticed. What she did notice was that she'd hit something but unfortunately that something didn't seem to be his head so the huntress swept the remains of the bow sideways. He could dodge, he could duck, or he could get hit. Even if he did dodge there would come a time when he either wouldn't be able to avoid her anymore and got hit, or she collapsed from exhaustion. Adrenaline fuelled her onslaught however so the prospect of dropping from fatigue wasn't a likely one at the moment.

Her brain did try to get through to her though, even as her arms moved back and forth, aiming to drive the wood into any spot at all. His taunts drove her on, raising her fury to new heights as she genuinely tried to hurt him. His head became a secondary target as she swung at anything that seemed like a good place to hit: arm, shoulder, hip, chest, or anything at all. The voice in her head grew ever more insistent, seeming to get itself heard despite the fog that seemed to fill her head, attempting to dampen any thoughts at all. It was starting to get through.

He's asking for it! He wants you to hit him! Don't hit him! Don't give him what he wants! she screamed at herself, the train of thought repeated endlessly until the teen managed to understand it and pause in her attack. Her eyes narrowed as she considered what one part of her mind had brought to her attention. "You want me to hit you, why?" Suspicion was in her voice as well as her gaze as she took a step back from him. Her breathing was fast, a light pant as she tried to take in the air that she needed. The adrenaline was wearing off and so her senses were coming back along with her wits.

Her lower arm seemed to throb and when she looked down she found her arm covered in semi-dry blood. It was only a small cut but she'd certainly aggravated it enough with her antics. She moved it against her side with a wince. She wasn't going to the infirmary with that, that was for sure. She'd just clean it herself and leave it at that. But it did ache now that she was aware of it again, the pain from it occupying most of her attention. She glared at him as if it was his fault when really it was her own. It had been her decision to start using it with such vigour, if it could be called a decision. It hadn't really been a conscious act.

The teen let her makeshift weapon fall from her fingers, wood landing loudly on stone. She didn't look down at it, afraid to see what damage she'd done to it. It could wait for now though hopefully she wouldn't need to get an entirely new bow rather than just a string. She still itched to hurt the man but at the same time she didn't want to give in to something that he wanted. Not that the girl could understand why he seemed to want her to hit him but his goading and the fact that he'd made no move to defend himself certainly pointed to such a conclusion. This outsider was strange. It was like he'd been trying to antagonise her from the start, continuing to badger him despite her obvious desire to be rid of him. She was almost willing to pry now as he'd suggested earlier, perhaps such information would explain this masochistic desire that he seemed to have.

"What do you even want from me?" Her words were close to a wail, conveying her frustration. There was no need to make him go away now. She wasn't going to be practising her archery anytime soon, between her useless shortbow and her aching arm. The least she could do though was get the reasons out of him before she retreated to the sanctuary of her room. She wasn't waiting around all day either. Either he'd explain or he wouldn't and if it was the latter then she wasn't going to stick around.

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by **Zhol** on September 8th, 2014, 2:19 pm

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Zhol aimed her shots but didn't avoid them, moving just enough to let her blows strike less important parts of himself. He needed his arms, not to mention that injuries there would be much harder to conceal from certain small, ever-worrying Inarta, so he moved them from harm's way; but a few bruised or broken ribs was a pain he could live with and endure; a few blows to his gut and hips wouldn't do more than just ache. Each strike was more difficult to weather than the last, of course, and he felt himself sagging with each new one that landed, but mustered his will and stopped his reflex to curl up protectively, and aborted any even fledgeling impulse to retaliate.

As her attacks subsided, he found himself conflicted between disappointment and relief. His injuries would not worsen, yes; but the reprieve gave his body the opportunity to take account of what he had suffered, and as the protective adrenaline slowly faded his body flooded him with dull pain just to emphasise how foolish it thought he had been. Worse, the anger in Azira still remained, barely affected; she just seemed to lack the energy - for now - to unleash it. That felt like a failure, her why? lodging itself in her mind.

His voice came out quiet, though not timid: there was simply no need to speak more than a few steps above a whisper. He had no emotions to convey, no message to try and have heard. "I don't want anything from you," he explained slowly; the fact that the breaths required to speak were painful was probably a bad sign. "You were angry, and you needed to take it out on something. I was here." He tried to move his shoulder; winced; decided not to try again. "Better me than anyone or anything else."

He turned slowly, forced to rely only on his legs to do so, to avoid the stabs of discomfort that twisting at the waist seemed like it would bring. There was nothing more to say; nothing more to do. Maybe she was a little less angry than she had been; maybe more; maybe his words or her vented anger had shaken something loose enough that she might eventually find a little piece.

He steered his course towards the nearest Inarta; a Chiet, he guessed, based on where he was standing to talk. Carefully, he pressed the bow he had borrowed into the Chiet's arms. "Return this for me, would you?" he requested; his mind delved into his memory, searching for one of the scant few Nari phrases he knew. "Thanks."

Another few steps were taken, but before he passed from earshot he found himself with one last thing to say. "I used to have a friend like you," he repeated. "I wouldn't mind having another." The smallest hint of a token smile tugged at his lips; his brain and pain wouldn't let him summon anything more. "I work in the stables, if you ever need to hit someone again."

Without another word he turned, and painfully staggered away.

"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.

by **Azira** on September 10th, 2014, 9:31 pm

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He'd taken everything that she'd thrown at him, had let himself be smacked about and yet he wasn't angry, wasn't frightened, wasn't anything! How could anyone be that impassive? And he was so reasonable! She disliked him for it. He could have at least reacted in someway. She might as well have attacked a rock, it would have had as good a reaction. Of course he also had to make it sound as if she was some sort of maniac who was ready to lash out at anyone at all. He made it sound as if he'd done Wind Reach a good service by pissing her off. Why did he have to be the better person?

You made him the better person. You're not right in the head, remember? You don't act right. It was a treacherous whisper, a reminder of what the Yasi had said to her in her youth. A justification for why they treated her the way they did. It seemed like proof of what they'd said to her, about her, and she hated him for making her think that way. Only now did he finally make a move to go, handing his bow to a Chiet that had finally crept closer to where they'd fought--albeit a one sided fight--apparently curious to see what all the fuss was about it seemed. Azira watched him step further away, glaring as his back as he made his retreat at last. Judging by the way he walked, she'd done a fair amount of damage. Let him walk away and lick his wounds; he wouldn't forget her in a hurry. If he crossed her path again he might realise that he was better off leaving her be.

A turn back before he could get far enough away for her liking and made her worry that he was going to stubbornly remain. His words were not what she'd expected. The teen looked at him uncertainly, wondering what had made him suggest such a thing. She'd given him no reason to desire friendship with her. Azira had abused him, both verbally and physically, had made him aware how much she wanted nothing to do with him every tick that he'd been in her presence. Yet somehow he seemed to be offering the possibility of friendship in the future.

He isn't serious. He's trying to hurt. Only one thing that you could want and he's dangling it in front of you. To torment you. He's no different than they were. As he turned away and staggered back towards the city, she shook her head. His smile had been genuine, he'd meant what he'd said. It just added fuel to the idea of him being the better person, petch him. She collected her remains of her bow, staring mournfully after his retreating back. When he was out of sight, she'd follow him back to the city but not catch up with him, no. She'd head back to her room. The Avora was better off there. She wouldn't be able to damage anyone with her presence there.

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by **Neologism** on September 14th, 2014, 10:15 pm

Zhol :

Azira :

Closed How Hard Can It Be? (Azira)