Time Stamp: Fall, 47th 514 AV
This man had been pestering Tara for at least a day or two now. With that he earned several threats. Her mission to coming even within the city would only be to restock on her medical supplies. Remaining nameless Tara does her best to keep away from him. It was obvious that he could not take a hint and forceful matters on her part had not come into focus just yet. She couldn't lie, with her personality, it was entertaining to have someone chase after her. Maybe when he was not swimming in alcohol and scum he was a better person.
After all, he was not that unattractive, she couldn't understand why someone would drink to this extent. Why would drinking even be his priority if there were men, woman, and children starving on the streets? Could he even hold up a job to purchase this amount of substances? There was a low whistle as she passed the Pig's Foot tavern. Her feet were moving rather fast, in order to dodge any possible interaction between the two. Unfortunately yet again, she was graced with his presence. "Aw, look at who is in a hurry today!"
Her eyes were locked in front of her as though she had heard nothing. Than he stumbled forward, his hands came around her waist as if to catch himself. He had never engaged in physical contact with Tara and she most certainly preferred that he did nothing at all. There would always be an on going war in her head. Jerking forward she managed to get his hands from her body. With that he earned a good, harsh slap. A gentle tingle erupted in the palm of her hand.
Forming on the his beard check was a red blotch, somewhat coming together as a hand print. "How many times to I have to say to leave me alone before you get the message?" Growling she took her finger and poked it several times in his muscular chest to get her point across. His face had the reminisce of anger but than it molded into a sly grin. Stricken with a deadly case of drunk, he pushed her rather harshly against a brick store wall and moved her some what Luckily is shove was nothing to hurt Tara.
One of the threats Tara dished out to this drunk involved the use of her animal form. Disgustingly he snickered in her face, his breath riddled with cheap liquor and cigarettes. Cringing under the stench she tried to move her hands but he held them tightly to her sides. "What's the matter? Little kitty doesn't like a drink or two?" Than he proceeded to breath in her face. Tara thought she was going to vomit in her mouth. She couldn't risk the clothing she wore on her body in an abrupt shift. There was no doubt it would shred her fabric to the point of no repair.
Instead she just spat in his face, "Get your grimy hands off of me, you scum." He was rather strong, which was surprising for a intoxicated man. Instead of obeying her demand he placed his head right next to the nape of her neck but she forbid his lips to touch her skin, wiggling in all directions. Tara was dead set on escaping this man on her own accord.
After all, he was not that unattractive, she couldn't understand why someone would drink to this extent. Why would drinking even be his priority if there were men, woman, and children starving on the streets? Could he even hold up a job to purchase this amount of substances? There was a low whistle as she passed the Pig's Foot tavern. Her feet were moving rather fast, in order to dodge any possible interaction between the two. Unfortunately yet again, she was graced with his presence. "Aw, look at who is in a hurry today!"
Her eyes were locked in front of her as though she had heard nothing. Than he stumbled forward, his hands came around her waist as if to catch himself. He had never engaged in physical contact with Tara and she most certainly preferred that he did nothing at all. There would always be an on going war in her head. Jerking forward she managed to get his hands from her body. With that he earned a good, harsh slap. A gentle tingle erupted in the palm of her hand.
Forming on the his beard check was a red blotch, somewhat coming together as a hand print. "How many times to I have to say to leave me alone before you get the message?" Growling she took her finger and poked it several times in his muscular chest to get her point across. His face had the reminisce of anger but than it molded into a sly grin. Stricken with a deadly case of drunk, he pushed her rather harshly against a brick store wall and moved her some what Luckily is shove was nothing to hurt Tara.
One of the threats Tara dished out to this drunk involved the use of her animal form. Disgustingly he snickered in her face, his breath riddled with cheap liquor and cigarettes. Cringing under the stench she tried to move her hands but he held them tightly to her sides. "What's the matter? Little kitty doesn't like a drink or two?" Than he proceeded to breath in her face. Tara thought she was going to vomit in her mouth. She couldn't risk the clothing she wore on her body in an abrupt shift. There was no doubt it would shred her fabric to the point of no repair.
Instead she just spat in his face, "Get your grimy hands off of me, you scum." He was rather strong, which was surprising for a intoxicated man. Instead of obeying her demand he placed his head right next to the nape of her neck but she forbid his lips to touch her skin, wiggling in all directions. Tara was dead set on escaping this man on her own accord.
