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!2he8cbHXgM 10/11/11(Tue)20:32 No.16595667The girl turns to the trader, trying her damnest to avoid bloodshed. "Look sir. Look at yourself. Now look at him! Take a good long look. I don't think anyone will think less of you for just apologizing and avoiding a fight. The fact is, if you fight him, your going to lose. And then all those who would mock you for cowardice would instead be mocking you for stupidity. The difference between the scenarios is that, in one of them, you are not maimed." He swallows, loud in the sudden silence. „I see your point. Sir, I was out of line, I had no right to speak of you as such.” The Cizka grins, saying „Good, good.” And grabs the mollesh man’s arm, the movement a blur. The trader tries to pull away, an almost comical sight like a petulant child opposing his father. The fear on his face and the knife that flashes in the giant’s hand drains any mirth that Akasha might feel. With calm movements, Hronek rolls up the trader’s sleeve, and cuts his forearm, a shallow, tiny wound, just enough to draw blood. He watches intently, and nods with satisfaction as the drops fall on the ground. „Words and blood. All enmity between us is settled.”
In a heartbeat, he ties a bandage around the wound, and pats the man’s shoulder, who almost buckles. „Smart man. And a smart girl. You know what to say. Come, sit, tell me of you, who you are, Kala.” His eyes are green-blue like polar glaciers, and Akasha feels a searing heat behind them, ready to surge forth at any moment. The Cizka sits, and bellows for the inkeeper. „What do you drink Kala?” |