Shards of memories

Angel's Share: merchants and meanies

"Aye, you think we Sneznayans aren't made to brawl?"
It wasn't much of a question really, more of a subtle invitation.
"When did I ever say 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵? Though I've never tested it myself..."
A subtle acceptance of the invitation.

Mondstadt's Cavalry Captain wasn't supposed to be picking fights with foreigners at a busy bar on a work night. In all honesty, Mondstadt's Cavalry Captain wasn't supposed to be at a bar on a work night. Especially not 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 bar. With 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 foreigners. But what better way to drown one's sorrows than getting into potentially job-threatening situations in a painfully familiar environment?

"Oh you're into 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 things? Well I just got this bottle of whisky: it seems to be made from shatterproof glass. How about we test the reliability of 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 claim?"
The man hurled the bottle at the Captain's face, missing him by several centimetres and resulting in an injured bystander. This wasn't going to go unnoticed for long. Good.
With one graceful move the general pinned the drunkard to the wall, leaving only his head untouched as to avoid suffocating him. With a slender hand he then proceeded to swipe his hostage's hair from his face in a movement that was almost sensual in a way, provocative even.

"Well, you're feeling hot today aren't you?"
The assailant asked with a coy grin, distancing his face from that of the man he'd assaulted. He was enjoying every second of the interaction, loving the attention he was getting as the whole pub had turned their drunken heads to watch a public official brawl with a Northern merchant; and loving the adrenaline he was feeling as a result.

"And you think you're so cool?!" Snarled the pinned man. "We'll see how you 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸 yourself after this one."
The man's face broke out into a fierce grin, one so icy the Captain had no time to react as the previously helpless man freed his right arm and thrust a fragment of the bottle he'd prior thrown at him into his right eye, tearing through the fabric of his eyepatch in one swift blow.
The Captain fell to the ground clutching his eye, the sounds of screams and the merchant's laughter muffled through the hazy mist of the primal agony he was feeling. It was like his very soul had been wounded, something so deep within him he could barely comprehend it himself. A pain so visceral, so 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦, so... familiar?

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