6th Day of Spring, 515 AV
There was an odd satisfaction about sending someone through a door. It relieved a lot of stress from ones mental health. Very therapeutic. To watch someone back against an unsteady door, then kick them in the gut and force them to fall back into the open world, to fall to the wooden ground and hear the grunt and thump come from that person. Light enjoyed doing it.
"You god damn Syliran!" The man spat to the floor. He turned his head left and right. His hands targeted a metal tool on the ground. With a cocky smile, he jumped to his feet and stood in a fighting position.
The mans lips where bloody. He had a blacken eye and his clothes were very dirty and ripped. He looked like he had been in a fight; like he had just battled a tough opponent in a life or death situation.
"Syliran?" Light asked while slowly walking out of a building called the Malt house. "I am no Syliran, good sir. My faith lies solely on Rhysol, my one and only God," he said.
The bloodied man laughed. "Faith in Rhysol? While you protect her!?" He said in a tone of amusement. He half pointed towards the direction of the girl behind Light and half twitched his arm uncontrollably.
The man was very damaged, and this made Light very sad. This man was a citizen of Ravok, a true follower of Rhysol, and yet Light had to harm him to receive his pay. It was unfair, very unfair. Light couldn't possibly hurt a fellow follower, and wouldn't if he did not have to.
With a look of concern, Light said, "Please, good follower of Rhysol, leave this alone. We have already made a scene and have probably caught the attention of agents. Let us not fight." He paused. "I know!" He suddenly said in an excited tone. "Why don't I buy you a beer? We can talk about Rhysol together!"
Light looked at the man with hopeful eyes but the man stared back with only disgust. "How could you?" He said as though Light had just done something horribly wrong. "You are no follower of Rhysol. You are a fake, a defiler of his great name! Rhysol will never forgive you for using his name to protect a sy-"
Light was surprisingly fast on his feet. He was taken by shock by how quick he darted to the man. Before the last word could be finished Light's palm was over the mans lips. All he let out now was a muffle.
The man looked incredibly angry now. He stepped away from Light's hold and swiped the knife across Light's shoulder. Light backed away and looked down to his shoulder. A small wound stretched across the fat near his breast. There was blood pouring out and drenching his clothes.
There was a small sting, but that was all. The pain that he had felt was slowly dying, but he could still feel where the blade had cut his skin. It was a clean slash but did not reach deep enough to cause any major life threatening pain. He would live through that attack but Light feared for the others.
"Please, sir. I don't want to do you anymore harm. Please stop this," Light said. He wanted to go for the peaceful route but he had already pulled out his dagger. Secretly, he knew that peace would not come.
"Damn Syliran!" The man shrieked as he tried to stab Light again. Light shifted his abdomen to the right to avoid the attack. He failed miserably to dodge and felt another sharp rise of pain from his side stomach. The dagger created another slice on Light's side stomach, and the wound began to bleed like the other. Light had no time to recoil before the man struck again. This time the man swung in a downward arc.
Light sidestepped and completely dodged the attack. The man stepped back and came after Light again. Restless in his attempts, the man sent slashes after slashes towards Light with his dagger, all the while Light tried to talk the man out of this. After the fifth slash passed, Light became angry.
The boy swiftly grabbed the mans wrist when he swung again. Not wasting a tick, Light sent his dagger into the mans arm. He yelped in pain and Light enjoyed his screams. A sick sadistic look passed over Light's face when he took the blade out like one would rip off a band aid. The boy enjoyed listening to this foolish man scream in pain, he enjoyed making him feel the same pain he had felt not long ago.
Light controlled his inner desire to kill and knocked the man unconscious by sending the bottom of his dagger into the mans back neck. The man fell with his eyes turned white. Light stood over him, a little sadness in his eyes mixed with anger.
He huffed. Standing behind him were both Grayson and Vanessa. Vanessa looked at Light with horror while Grayson looked at him with annoyance.
Light dragged the man back inside the tavern. He propped the man on a table chair and left him there to search for a medical kit. Grayson gave him one while screaming at him about how careless and stupid he was. Light cleaned the wound of the man with soap and water then wrapped a bandage around it.
He made quick work of the man, tossing him on the street when he was done, then focused on Grayson, who was still yelling at him, and Vanessa, who was trying to clean Light's own wounds.
"Out of all the most stupid of ways you could have handled the situation, you stabbed him!?" Grayson stood behind the counter, staring at Light furiously. "Get out, go take care of yourself, you're done for the day. Go think about how perform your job efficiently without bloodshed.
"I-"
I tried to talk him out of it! It's not my fault that he was already drunk when he attacked, Light wanted to say but he stopped himself. "Alright," he decided to say because saying that was much safer than saying what he originally wanted.
"But, what if someone tries to kill Vanessa?" Light asked.
"I'll handle them," Grayson replied in his irritated tone.
Light nodded to this, said "alright" again, then left the Malt House. He walked to the NHC, his mind still crowded with thoughts of what just happened. Could he have dealt with the situation much better? Light understood how blood splattered seats could be bad for business but there was no way he could prevent it. When a weapon was drawn, blood followed. Grayson was the idiot for not realizing this, not Light. Or was Light truly the idiot? His head began to hurt from thinking too much.
When he headed into the NHC office he moved towards the steps. He came to a sudden halt when he overheard two women talking.
"Hey, hey. Did you hear? There is a new Seamstress in the NHC. She works in the sewing room and patches up clothes for people. I went to her the other day and she did wonders for my ripped dress," one woman said.
"Ripped dress? Don't tell me, your husband went wild on you again?" The other giggled.
Light almost gagged. He hurried up the stairs before the women could realize that he was listening to them. He did not feel like having someone else yell at him, as everyone seemed to do around him.
He made it to his room in the NHC and went to work on his wounds. Vanessa had cleaned them, but blood was still slowly oozing out of him. He had to patch himself up again with the bandage wrap he liberated from the Malt House.
"They won't miss these," he said while wrapping himself. His shirts were ruined. He had both his under and main fabrics ripped three times in three different areas. For every rip there was a blood stain. His blue coat that he wore during the fight also had some tare in it. However, to Light's surprise, there was no blood stain.
Well that's lucky, but it's still ripped apart. Light imagined how people would look at him if he moved outside with clothes as sliced through as these. Then he imagined how his father would look at him. Paladin Dicey's son dressed in clothing like these? Disgusting, he saw his father saying.
"I need to get these fixed," Light finally decided. He pulled back on his clothes, seeing as they where the only ones he owned, but left his blue coat off. His coat hung over his wrist. He would get his coat fixed for now and worry about his other clothing later.
Light grabbed a piece of paper and his money bag, then walked downstairs to speak with the woman who had been talking about a seamstress in the NHC building. The woman chimed the name "Rosemary Nitrozian," at Light's interest and gave him directions to the sewing room. Light thanked the woman then strolled to it, a little reluctant to meet the sewer. She was a Nitrozian, one of the most powerful families in Ravok. Say one word wrong and Light was dead. He liked living, a lot more than being dead.
Light came across the door and paused for a small moment. He collected his breath then knocked. Three times he knocked then stepped back to await the sewer.
There was an odd satisfaction about sending someone through a door. It relieved a lot of stress from ones mental health. Very therapeutic. To watch someone back against an unsteady door, then kick them in the gut and force them to fall back into the open world, to fall to the wooden ground and hear the grunt and thump come from that person. Light enjoyed doing it.
"You god damn Syliran!" The man spat to the floor. He turned his head left and right. His hands targeted a metal tool on the ground. With a cocky smile, he jumped to his feet and stood in a fighting position.
The mans lips where bloody. He had a blacken eye and his clothes were very dirty and ripped. He looked like he had been in a fight; like he had just battled a tough opponent in a life or death situation.
"Syliran?" Light asked while slowly walking out of a building called the Malt house. "I am no Syliran, good sir. My faith lies solely on Rhysol, my one and only God," he said.
The bloodied man laughed. "Faith in Rhysol? While you protect her!?" He said in a tone of amusement. He half pointed towards the direction of the girl behind Light and half twitched his arm uncontrollably.
The man was very damaged, and this made Light very sad. This man was a citizen of Ravok, a true follower of Rhysol, and yet Light had to harm him to receive his pay. It was unfair, very unfair. Light couldn't possibly hurt a fellow follower, and wouldn't if he did not have to.
With a look of concern, Light said, "Please, good follower of Rhysol, leave this alone. We have already made a scene and have probably caught the attention of agents. Let us not fight." He paused. "I know!" He suddenly said in an excited tone. "Why don't I buy you a beer? We can talk about Rhysol together!"
Light looked at the man with hopeful eyes but the man stared back with only disgust. "How could you?" He said as though Light had just done something horribly wrong. "You are no follower of Rhysol. You are a fake, a defiler of his great name! Rhysol will never forgive you for using his name to protect a sy-"
Light was surprisingly fast on his feet. He was taken by shock by how quick he darted to the man. Before the last word could be finished Light's palm was over the mans lips. All he let out now was a muffle.
The man looked incredibly angry now. He stepped away from Light's hold and swiped the knife across Light's shoulder. Light backed away and looked down to his shoulder. A small wound stretched across the fat near his breast. There was blood pouring out and drenching his clothes.
There was a small sting, but that was all. The pain that he had felt was slowly dying, but he could still feel where the blade had cut his skin. It was a clean slash but did not reach deep enough to cause any major life threatening pain. He would live through that attack but Light feared for the others.
"Please, sir. I don't want to do you anymore harm. Please stop this," Light said. He wanted to go for the peaceful route but he had already pulled out his dagger. Secretly, he knew that peace would not come.
"Damn Syliran!" The man shrieked as he tried to stab Light again. Light shifted his abdomen to the right to avoid the attack. He failed miserably to dodge and felt another sharp rise of pain from his side stomach. The dagger created another slice on Light's side stomach, and the wound began to bleed like the other. Light had no time to recoil before the man struck again. This time the man swung in a downward arc.
Light sidestepped and completely dodged the attack. The man stepped back and came after Light again. Restless in his attempts, the man sent slashes after slashes towards Light with his dagger, all the while Light tried to talk the man out of this. After the fifth slash passed, Light became angry.
The boy swiftly grabbed the mans wrist when he swung again. Not wasting a tick, Light sent his dagger into the mans arm. He yelped in pain and Light enjoyed his screams. A sick sadistic look passed over Light's face when he took the blade out like one would rip off a band aid. The boy enjoyed listening to this foolish man scream in pain, he enjoyed making him feel the same pain he had felt not long ago.
Light controlled his inner desire to kill and knocked the man unconscious by sending the bottom of his dagger into the mans back neck. The man fell with his eyes turned white. Light stood over him, a little sadness in his eyes mixed with anger.
He huffed. Standing behind him were both Grayson and Vanessa. Vanessa looked at Light with horror while Grayson looked at him with annoyance.
Light dragged the man back inside the tavern. He propped the man on a table chair and left him there to search for a medical kit. Grayson gave him one while screaming at him about how careless and stupid he was. Light cleaned the wound of the man with soap and water then wrapped a bandage around it.
He made quick work of the man, tossing him on the street when he was done, then focused on Grayson, who was still yelling at him, and Vanessa, who was trying to clean Light's own wounds.
"Out of all the most stupid of ways you could have handled the situation, you stabbed him!?" Grayson stood behind the counter, staring at Light furiously. "Get out, go take care of yourself, you're done for the day. Go think about how perform your job efficiently without bloodshed.
"I-"
I tried to talk him out of it! It's not my fault that he was already drunk when he attacked, Light wanted to say but he stopped himself. "Alright," he decided to say because saying that was much safer than saying what he originally wanted.
"But, what if someone tries to kill Vanessa?" Light asked.
"I'll handle them," Grayson replied in his irritated tone.
Light nodded to this, said "alright" again, then left the Malt House. He walked to the NHC, his mind still crowded with thoughts of what just happened. Could he have dealt with the situation much better? Light understood how blood splattered seats could be bad for business but there was no way he could prevent it. When a weapon was drawn, blood followed. Grayson was the idiot for not realizing this, not Light. Or was Light truly the idiot? His head began to hurt from thinking too much.
When he headed into the NHC office he moved towards the steps. He came to a sudden halt when he overheard two women talking.
"Hey, hey. Did you hear? There is a new Seamstress in the NHC. She works in the sewing room and patches up clothes for people. I went to her the other day and she did wonders for my ripped dress," one woman said.
"Ripped dress? Don't tell me, your husband went wild on you again?" The other giggled.
Light almost gagged. He hurried up the stairs before the women could realize that he was listening to them. He did not feel like having someone else yell at him, as everyone seemed to do around him.
He made it to his room in the NHC and went to work on his wounds. Vanessa had cleaned them, but blood was still slowly oozing out of him. He had to patch himself up again with the bandage wrap he liberated from the Malt House.
"They won't miss these," he said while wrapping himself. His shirts were ruined. He had both his under and main fabrics ripped three times in three different areas. For every rip there was a blood stain. His blue coat that he wore during the fight also had some tare in it. However, to Light's surprise, there was no blood stain.
Well that's lucky, but it's still ripped apart. Light imagined how people would look at him if he moved outside with clothes as sliced through as these. Then he imagined how his father would look at him. Paladin Dicey's son dressed in clothing like these? Disgusting, he saw his father saying.
"I need to get these fixed," Light finally decided. He pulled back on his clothes, seeing as they where the only ones he owned, but left his blue coat off. His coat hung over his wrist. He would get his coat fixed for now and worry about his other clothing later.
Light grabbed a piece of paper and his money bag, then walked downstairs to speak with the woman who had been talking about a seamstress in the NHC building. The woman chimed the name "Rosemary Nitrozian," at Light's interest and gave him directions to the sewing room. Light thanked the woman then strolled to it, a little reluctant to meet the sewer. She was a Nitrozian, one of the most powerful families in Ravok. Say one word wrong and Light was dead. He liked living, a lot more than being dead.
Light came across the door and paused for a small moment. He collected his breath then knocked. Three times he knocked then stepped back to await the sewer.
