Sun—blessed locks flutter in front of Mahikan’s face, falling with grace to the floor after the blades slice through them. There was no time for complaints, a mere growl slips out of them as they attempt to make a move, just to end up [pinned] by their recently laundered shirt. A hand moves to grab the blade from their shirt, gently pulling it loose to avoid damaging the already well—worn fabric. The blade is flung back towards the man, sinking into the thick, muddy ground. It’s not a real threat on his life, a little minor outburst of anger for the audacity of the man to pull such an incredulous stunt. All words die on their tongue, caught off-guard by the sudden intrusion of their space and while their height [can] rival the strangers; there is no doubt about it, the man is much bigger than them. Nobody is around besides (him), and nobody else will point out that Mahi stares just a little longer than intended, [they can blame intimidation on it]. “Hey—!” Is the only thing that comes out of their mouth, their protest dying as their body freezes. [FEAR] spreads through their body like a wildfire amongst dead trees, body seizing as if a cold snap had suddenly appeared.
The cloak and scarf that had hidden their identity for the many moons they have travelled, taken apart so simply by a man that now looks much more dangerous than anticipated. Control is regained easily, shoving the cloak back over their head and hiding the obvious physical appearance of an Elf; one’s that had been hunted for sport more than two centuries ago. “No sir.” Is all they can muster, pushing the man away from their space and taking the time to recover, to fix their clothing so that their identity stays a secret. All of the fight that they had stored in their body, is quick to leave, probably as fast as the contents of the strangers stomach judging by the sounds of it.
