|A Firey Reunion
||[Dec. 25th, 2004|09:03 pm]
Village in the Valley
The muscular red-haired man walked casually in these unfamiliar streets, bare feet seemingly comfortable on the surface that was still hot from the day. An olive jacket was slung casually over his left shoulder, held only by a fingertip. For the tall one's casual demeanor, his mind was tumbling with thought. He had never ran such a test before. It had been several years since he was prey. He certainly hoped the prince was not hurt badly.
The one he was most concerned about would find him, of that, he was -- fairly certain. He knew her well, and that she would hardly give up unless she had been injured too severely to continue. His questions about a new girl in town hadn't led him to any further information since he'd sent her help days ago, and that was what was troubling him. She had left the human's healing center and had not been seen in any 'hotel' in town. She had been ill -- perhaps this hadn't been the right time.
Then again, were the girl to snap, now would be when. Low on physical resources, no emotional support but her own strength, unfamiliar territory -- all of these were usual triggers to her anger, he knew. He could handle the wrath of a human -- but could she handle her own wrath? That was the test...
Bri manages not to fall, but kicks herself mentally for the obviously stupid move. She's quick to keep pace with the man. "I know what you are." At least he's not violently attacking her like he did Nate -- maybe because she's only a pathetic human now? It *could* be macho male ego.
"We need to talk." She's not afraid to demand things of anyone -- dragon or no. Not like she has anything to live for anyway -- not really.
The man keeps walking at his casual pace. His voice is deeper, but calm and smooth. "So talk." He never has been much for long words, even if he knows she often has moments full of bluster and talk.
His job is to see where she takes this and not to placate or aggrevate her purposefully -- hard to do when one has observed her and known her for so long.
Bri scowls. Okay, fine... if you want to play casual and cool like you didn't kill the love of my life... we'll play cool for awhile.
"What was the point of that little attack in the cavern? Were you that bored? It certainly didn't keep you entertained for long now, did it?" She can't keep the sarcasm and pain from her voice as she questions him.
The man is secretly amused by the angry child beside him and her sarcasm. His answer is a moment in coming, merely because he is deciding which answer to use.
"No, it was not long entertaining, though I must admit I had little to do before that time."
He avoids the whole 'point of' question, for now.
Bri is wondering now at what this guy was doing, and is getting fed up with his avoidance of the issue. You little *#@...
She smacks him in the kneecap with a crutch, glad the things are solid -- whatever the metal is. "I ought to kill you for what you did... for *any* reason."
The man wasn't expecting the smack nor the pain it brings to his leg. It's enough to make his step falter. He uses her momentary reliance on one crutch to throw his jacket around her and wrap her tight with the sleeves, her other crutch pinned to her side. He pulls her right next to him, and studies her for a moment.
He notes her eyes widening with shock and then as they narrow with a fury he can almost feel from her.
Bri's anger is very much there, but so is her pain, ripped raw by what she can only see as a betrayal. She knows this man...
"You little *SHIT*!" She thrashes in the jacket, setting both feet down for balance, even if that hurts. At least that kind of hurt she can deal with... it can make her stronger. Not like this... not this...
She manages to free herself from the jacket, and sends a punch toward his face, eyes filling with angry tears. A couple more punchs are quick to follow, as her body goes on autopilot. She's gonna beat him to a bloody pulp.
The man narrowly evades her first two punches, effectively blocking the third. He sweeps her good leg from under her while she's focused on pommeling him with her fists. "Sorry."
He takes no joy in her hitting the ground, again, but it gives him a few precious seconds to assess the situation and get a word in. "It was neccessary for you to believe Nathaniel was gone." She passes, even if her temper is still a major annoyance -- no innocents harmed, no turning into a cold-blooded killer -- just a hot-head kid.