Persephone

The Outsider

He walked through the busy streets, careful not to draw any attention to himself. He clutched his injured right arm, though he made sure to keep himself concealed within his tattered cloak. Despite the injury, his eyes were quickly scanning the situation at hand, preparing for any attacks or anything that could cause him trouble. Still, he was pretty badly hurt, and had lost a lot of blood. He knew he needed a place to rest and fix up his arm. His uninjured arm was prepared to draw a sword if necessary.

Thieves were scattered among the shopkeepers, and the constant bustle of people was enough to throw anyone off guard, but not him.

He felt someone moving towards him. He anticipated he would grab his shoulder. He braced for the pain that would follow, and turned around.

"What do you want?"

"Give me your money. Whatever you've got. Give it to me!"

"I don't have anything."

"Tsk. Bullcrap." He pulled out a dagger. "Now... one more time, or I'll gut you."

"Now there. Watch it"

"What are you gonna do?" He pressed the dagger against his stomach.

"This." Lloyd stomped on his foot, and whipped off his cloak. Lloyd finally revealed his true identity. Short, black hair combed over above his right eye, while he wore a black cloak.

"Son of a..." he couldn't speak. Lloyd had already whipped out his blade, and it was up against his neck.

"Son of a what? You better back off, or you're going to need a head replacement."

"Dammit! Razor Leaf!" He knocked the sword away, though Lloyd let him. A barrage of leaves flew at him, but Lloyd deflected them easily.

"My turn." Lloyd rushed at the thief, and he held out his hand "Dark Pulse!" A small ball of darkness flew at him, who was very surprised. Upon contact, it expanded into a large explosion, and once the smoke had cleared, all that remained was an unconscious body, bleeding badly. "Tsk. That wasn't very effective." Lloyd said sarcastically. He ignored the stares of those around him, and draped his beat up cloak over his shoulder.

Through the heat of the battle, he had forgotten the pain in his arm. "I'd better get it checked," he muttered.

The crowd parted around him, though he simply sighed.

"Who is he?" They murmured "How is he so strong?"

"He looks injured too!"

"Shh! He's turning around!"

Lloyd chuckled, then turned around, "Names, Lloyd. I'd appreciate a place to stay and fix myself up, if you guys don't mind."

"So, you're Lloyd. Never heard of you before." The barkeeper wiped down a seat. He was a gruff man in his sixties.

"Yeah, well, I travel a lot." Lloyd gulped down some water. "You seem like the fighting type, yet you're working in a bar." Lloyd leaned on the table "What's up with that?"

"I used to be a street fighter. Was risky. Eventually got married and went for a steady job, and here I am."

Lloyd nodded. "I see."

"You don't strike me as a fighter though." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Why don't you grab some alcohol? That's just some water with a little bit of berry juice."

"I'm only 18 now," pointed out Lloyd. "Besides, alcohol's a poison. Quick way to get your ass kicked."

"True," agreed the barkeeper. "How's your arm now?"