Fields of Crimson

The Man with the Dagger

Her brows furrowed in disbelief. The phrase; 'You've had too much to drink' clearly wasn't her favorite out of the few words he had spoken. With a man running behind her, one would think that she was in grave danger- as she was. Her lips parted to speak, but she was interrupted by the gaining churning of gravel. The blonde maneuvered out of reach, so that Bratis had no chance of grabbing her. The faint glow of her palm was growing more and more dim by the second, and her anxiety was growing more and more powerful too. Her head whipped around upon hearing the stranger's grunt. Through the dark, she was unable to see the thin line that had been carved into the Elf's cheek. She instinctively backed away, her eyes narrowed and almost shimmering. Bratis yelped, grunting in anger and pain as he stumbled backwards, hands pushing against the hole in his stomach. From seeing the look upon the man's face, she knew that he had seen many deaths before. It was no secret that a man who drew a weapon as quickly as he did was ready to kill at moment's notice. Bratis fell to his knees, gasping, then fell in the gravel at his feet. Only then, did Akhira approach. She knelt beside the man who groaned into the soil below and placed a hand upon his shoulder to roll him onto his back. Her eyes widened as she stared into his eyes, almost forgetting about the killer just over her shoulder.

She placed a hand upon his cheek, almost tenderly, feeling the heat drain from his flesh. "You did this to me. And my father. And the village. You brought this upon yourself," she paused, searching for her hatred as she watched his eyes glitter with tears of pain, "And now you're earning what you always deserved.. Bratis."

His name only brought sheer hatred into her voice. Her tender touch quickly turned into her nails digging into his cheek, and her palm searing the entirety of his cheek, brow, and mouth. The High Elf searched for some sort of distressed sound, but he was only able to wheeze and turn his head back and forth, only making the burn just as bad as before.

Akhira stood, her lip turned up in disgust as she wiped his blood from her palm anto her hip. The leather was not only streaked with the Elf's blood, but with a streak of charred leather. She'd gone and burned a thin line into her leather leggings which were tucked into her elkskin boots. She took in a disturbingly long breath before letting out only half of what she had taken in. The blonde turned away from the suffering male, and her eyes finally rose from the gravel at the sight of the stranger's boots. Her delicate orbs skimmed him from toe to head. And in that moment she was reminded of something quite sinister..

Her brows arched and her face took on a ghostly pallor as she stumbled back, taking careful steps in an attempt not to shift the gravel too much. Although she felt like a thank you was in order, she abandoned the idea, for he did not look as if he would accept it. Instead, she stood there, tall, with her chin up to the male who was certainly much taller than herself. There was no visible trace of emotion on her expressionless face, save a few glossy layers on her lower lash line. Unlike her younger self who would have gone running away from yet another danger, fleeing to seek shelter under her father's wing, she stood there in all her entirety. Although she was afraid, the Nord would not show it. After her father's passing, she had been told that she needed to be strong and face whatever came at her. Sadly, the elders in the village meant ordeals, not killers.

She crossed her arms beneath the curve of her chest and cocked her hip, allowing her to stand in a much more relaxed position. Instead of looking tense, she decided that looking casual would be a bit more helpful. Act calm. Her eyes scanned him, searching for other weapons other than the dagger. He had plenty more.

"A woman runs towards you pleading for help and you tell her she's been drinking too much." It wasn't a question. She was just curious as to what the hell he was thinking.

"It's more polite to say that you're busy, or in a hurry, but never tell a woman she's been drinking. You have no right." She turned her gaze to the man on the ground who was still alive. He would live, but just barely. Akhira did not know how exactly to get away from this man. She would not go back into town. Having already been a stranger to these people, she would not have favored any more from this event. And if she did in fact return to town, she would have been followed once again by the injured and angry Bratis that we all know and love.

"I'm usually not the sort to hold grudges, but this man reminded me of a time I know best, and I assure you, that it was not the best of times." Her ashen hair blew into her face with a sudden gust of wind that seemed to blow out of nowhere. Her lashes batted and she squinted against the cold breeze. She felt as if she were at a loss for words, given the man's strong silent type demeanor.

"Well, I thank you for your... help." With that, the young woman stepped forward, cautiously placing her now dim and cold hand out for him to take.

"I guess I owe you one.." Her voice trailed off as she awaited the touch of his foreign skin. Her eyes gleamed their bright, almost iridescent blue as they wandered from him to the stars.