Vyral

Chapter 12 - Blades of Chaos II

As they're walking, Kohen's gaze drills a hole in the back of Amina's head, which she's more than aware of.

This guy has some guts. Attacking her the way he did, and still managing to break her defenses to land a few hits... He's not even that sharp, yet successfully surprised her. And that raw strength...

What the fuck does she mean by 'curses'? How does she know about his in the first place? His shirt covers up all of the tattoos. Is it his eyes? The attitude? The way of fighting? She seems pretty sharp but still got caught by surprise. It didn't feel like she was holding back, but she would've definitely killed him if she wasn't. So how did he catch her like that? Was it due to a lapse in her judgement? And the sensation that came with that... It was so.. natural... Like he's done it before. Using his instincts to fight instead of his mind.

The questions pile up to the point where he's unable to hold them back.
Kohen: "You said I'm cursed.. What do you mean?"
Amina: "You'll know when we get there."
Kohen: "Is this how you talk to everyone?"
Amina: "Yes."
Kohen: "Why?"
Amina: "None of your business."

He clicks his tongue, yet understands where she's coming from.

They walk for a few more minutes through the main path of the Colony. There is debris everywhere, some people are cleaning up their homes in silence, others pray for those lying underneath sets of white tarps. It seems like they're somewhat used to this. Nevertheless, a lot of them greet Amina while others glare and scoff at her in discontent, as if she doesn't belong in this place. Some glances are thrown at Kohen and Orton too, although, it's nothing they aren't used to.

Reaching the end of the path reveals a building that looks like a pharmacy, with a glass shop-front that has been reinforced with wooden beams. Upon walking through the door, the tiny crow bells above it clash together, soothingly ringing to alert the patrons, and workers alike, about the presence of visitors. Although the place has been overhauled into a library and working office rather than a pharmacy, the small compartment on the left, behind the balcony at the back of the shop, is still used for that purpose alone.

Hunched over the balcony is a man, apparently sleeping, arguably in one of the worst positions ever.

Amina: "I got a new one for you Pro." She routinely states, walking past a number of shelves containing books, blueprints, documents and maps, to set herself down on the large cushioned couch across from the balcony. She crosses one leg over the other and throws both arms behind the headrest, exhaling.

 Amina: "Just make sure this one doesn't die."

Kohen: "Die?"He gulps, turning left to observe the man laying back onto the chair.

His rough, slick-back white hair loosely covers the pair of large rectangles that hang from his earlobes, seemingly made of pure metal. His eyes carry prominent bags underneath them, decorated with several wrinkles that attempt hiding behind his rectangular glasses. 

He's wearing a beige poncho that covers most of his upper body, with the exception of the neck and forearms. The number of visible tattoos alone overwhelmingly exceeds the ones present on Kohen's entire body. His hands look rough, aged. Like they've seen, and touched, and experienced hardships no other part of the body has. And his nails are black, like the flesh underneath them has been abused until it died. A few rings on some of his fingers shine in unison with the piercing that circles the left side of his bottom lip. All of his accessories, including the glasses, are black.

This guy looks more like a drug addict than anything else.

He glances at Kohen, then Orton, then Kohen once more.
After the second glance, he leans forward to place his elbows on the table. His demeanor changes immediately, as bone touches wood, he examines the boy up and down with a strengthened stare.