Just Not His Day (Rista)

[Eoin]

Unprepared and slow to react, it was impossible for the man to see her hand coming, a blow that connected with a sickening slap. Despite the stinging pain and powerful impact, he barely swayed, her efforts appearing as fruitless as striking a tree. A blurry palm print was smeared across his left cheek, the blood flowing urgently to the area, giving the skin a deep flush against an otherwise fair complexion. All thoughts seem to have fallen through one ear, for Eoin was left completely speechless, his green eyes evoking the very confusion that cradled his numb mind. He could only await Rista’s explanation in this thoughtless state, his lips taut with embarrassment. The crowds were as noisy as ever, the sharp sound catching the attention of few, some of which turned away while others continued to spectate. Even the vendor who knew of the very blunder that he made had jumped at the fiery reaction, but now only shook his head gently in disapproval as he pretended to rearrange some items, an ear open to their words. As Eoin waited, faint whispers of the Inarta that recognized him crawled beneath the shouting voices, their conversations beginning with shock or feigned precognition and typically ended with smothered laughter. The bead remained safe within his clenching grip. What he thought was indecision were the fleeting signs of anger and disappointment, a fact that calmly eased itself in, settling gently within a vacant mind. Rista spoke clearly, despite the heavy emotion that saturated her words, but they were lost in a fog between her lips and his ears. Only when the sudden mist began to clear did he actually hear, and come to understand what she had believed. His fingers loosened, exposing a circular imprint on his palm to the mountain air. Given more time, Eoin might have grown angry himself, but considering the speed at which the events occurred, it was near impossible for him. By now, some audience members had grown tired of his dragging reaction time, most wandering off to continue their market day visit. After what must’ve felt like an eternity to Rista did he finally act, for he was unsure that his words would do any better considering the situation they had once again got him into. He approached the Yasi, closing their distance to an arm’s length despite any further movement from her, his graceful stride slow but deliberate. His hand reached for hers, taking it within his stronger grip, not too firm that it would hurt her wrist. Opening her fingers, Eoin placed the green bead in the center of her palm, flashing the red circle on his own. “I found her.” It was awkward, but sincere, his words given a blunt delivery. He almost seemed emotionless, if it were not for that steady gaze that echoed the warmth behind his thoughts. Eoin did not linger, releasing her hand almost immediately, but continued to share eye contact. After a few seconds, he explained vaguely, “I did not mean what you thought.”, in an attempt to justify himself and regain some semblance of dignity lost to her emotional display.

[Rista]

The palm of her hand stung from the fierce connection with his cheek, and slowly a very real pain was starting to work its way up her wrist. Was all men made of stone? Rista was so used to battle soft, meek boys and cat-clawing girls that she was surprised her hand hadn't shattered upon the contact with his face. She discreetly hid the hand away behind her back and flexed her fingers, unwilling to show that it had affected her at all. The silence was growing long, and as she picked up on Eoin's stunned silence and the whispered amusement among the crowd, the girl slowly began to pull her shoulders up in discomfort. She had created quite a scene... and the more time that passed between her action and his response, the more she began to doubt what she had done. Why wasn't he saying anything? What, had she misunderstood? Slowly her anger gave away to unease, and for once she was grateful over her black eyes that didn't give her away as she looked around, searching for something that could give her a hint on what to do.

The vendor wasn't of any help, busy as he was with his store and the items on display, and Rista didn't quite dare to look too much at the crowd. What little amount of people that had stopped at her outburst was slowly mixing in with the crowd again, disappointed perhaps over the lack of response. Silence hovered between them, the young woman licked her lips nervously when she realized that she had been staring at the green-eyed man for a long time now. What was up with him anyway? First he acted nice and trustworthy, then he offended her and after being hit, he didn't even respond? This was so confusing, her frustration didn't seem to have any limits. Even more surprising was the fact that he as a member of a higher caste wasn't reacting stronger to the blow against his honor. It had taken far less for others to extend punishment over yasi that didn't know their place.

Growing more and more tense and wary for every chime that passed, when the young man finally reacted and began to move towards her, the dark-haired girl's first reaction was to recoil. His face was so lacking of expression and in her growing anxiety she took it for anger. His hand reached out towards her and her hand flew up, automatically trying to shield her face...
When he took the wrist of the same hand that had slapped him in a gentle grip and pried the fingers open, it looked as if he just as well could have hit her. The darkly colored yasi flinched, eyes growing wide from surprise while the color of her cheeks warmed up to a deep, reddish tint that was more than visible.. What was he doing? She hit him, said things in anger, and now.. what?

Her eyes slowly went down to look at the hand, the palm as furiously red as his cheek, took in the sight of the square shape and the long, slender fingers; she parted her lips slightly to say something, but before she had time to, he placed something in her palm; a small, semi-transparent bead, most likely the same he had tried to show her. It was warm still from resting in his palm, and she stared at it as if she couldn't understand what it was... Swiftly as always, her emotions swayed again but this time towards confusion and a growing embarrassment. Biting her lip, Rista felt how her face heated towards unbearable temperatures when she heard what he said; suddenly she was fighting a strong wish to sink through the ground.

It was almost more than she could take to raise her eyes and look up into his kind gaze. Breathing properly was impossible; her entire body was tense from shame over what she had done, now that the realization of what he had wanted to say struck her. If the heavens had turned purple and decided to fall down on her head, she might not have been able to react; now it was her turn to drag on the silence, desperately trying to find something to do or say that would ease this horrible, awkward feeling.

He let go of her hand again. A brief thought wondered why her wrist suddenly could feel so cold, while another calmly tried to explain about the natural reactions of a young woman that was in the first situation ever that could be considered even close to a romantic one.. Even if it was far off the mark. She felt like waving the both of them away, and half lifted her unoccupied hand before she realized what she was doing; in an attempt to cover up the strange movement she brought it to her moth instead, covering her lips in a gesture of deadly embarrassment.

"I.. I'm sorry" she finally almost whispered, probably too quietly for him to hear in the midst of all this chaos. "I thought you said.. that you meant.. Oh Syna, I feel so stupid. I'm really, really so sorry..." Couldn't someone open up a hole in the ground just where she stood, so that she could break away from those deep, green eyes that held her gaze so relentlessly? This was a situation Rista hadn't expected, she had no idea what to do. This sinking, nauseating feeling in her gut, this blackness that wanted to sink in over her.. was this normal? Was this how it was to feel ashamed?

Her fingers were just about to close around the bead in quiet acceptance of it, when suddenly the crowd parted just behind her. A group of three wine-intoxicated youngsters came bustling right past them, not looking at all where they were going; one of them pushed a passing chiet out of the way, who in turn crashed right into the small girl and pushed her hard in the back. With a surprised sound she stumbled forward in a domino reaction right towards the poor Eoin, while the bead bumped in her hand, rolled over her fingers and began falling to the stony ground, suddenly running a very real risk of shattering against the rock...

[Eoin]

oocForgive the lateness, got caught up helping with a wedding and work, too exhausted after all that to sit down to write. Thanks for taking the lead thus far, I hope you didn't mind it.

Wishing to ignore the wound inflicted upon his ego, Eoin offered no words, only their shared eye contact indicating his acknowledgement. Her words were blurred amidst the air, heavy with voices, only the slightest changes in posture and gentle changes of emotion comprehensible to him. The situation seemed backwards in a way, he the forgiver rather than asking for forgiveness, and the subsequent sentiment surprised him. Was he really so guilt-ridden that even such a logical follow-up would tug at the knot within his chest, its presence so familiar that even he at times forgot how little room he had to breathe? As brief and expected as it was, like that of the seasons, Eoin was caught off-guard by the seemingly insignificant instances that seem to trigger these habitual emotions. The man accepted them all too readily, seeing the two as one, seamless integration, despite its parasitic dependence to him and he to it. Visually, there were no signs, if anything the man would seem more himself than he had ever been, for guilt ultimately defined him. Strangely relaxed and at ease, he was momentarily unguarded, a complex expression in his gaze. As it were, that was when the girl pushed from behind, forcing his body to succumb to gravity. No matter his state of mind, there was no chance that Eoin would be able to catch the green bead, its bottom edging precariously on the tips of Rista’s fingers. With a dramatic sigh, it rolled off and over the edge, shattering noiselessly before a backdrop of wide, green eyes. The girl was fine, only a bit unnerved from the violent shove, shuffling away quickly in embarrassment before the Avora she bumped into could see her face. Naturally, the boys were uncaring and unaware in their drunken stupor, already off to cause more trouble they’ll soon regret. All was left were the two of them, both speechless from the swift chain of events. There was nothing to see, the bead already no more, and so Eoin turned away from the glass remnants with stony composure. The vendor was the attentive type having seen the entire mishap, and stood waiting for either of the Inartas to repay him. Confused was he when the Avora appeared before him, reaching calmly into the brown pouch dangling from his equally brown Bryda, and placed the 6 pinions on the table. “Thanks…” The older man mumbled, unable to fathom the reason behind the other man’s gesture. Perhaps he wanted to impress the Yasi, though he could not see the reason why he would try to impress a female if it were not to sleep with them, and to bed a child would be ridiculous, even if he had heard rumours of others. The vendor shook off the throngs of ideas and returned to work, conversing and bartering. Despite the aloof transaction, Eoin simmered with frustration at the day’s events. First was the egotistical youth hurting rather than helping, then the aggravating woman that possessed unreasonable hate for him, a misunderstanding created by him and the humiliating consequence, and now a girl that could not be blamed for causing the destruction of the bead and the loss of his pinions. Unashamedly, the man loved material reward, but was also frugal with his money as it was essential to keeping his mother alive. There were too many thoughts crashing down at once: the anger at his own inadequacies, his mother’s state and his involvement in splitting what family he had, and the thoughts of others that he couldn’t let through. In a way, those emotions were freed at last, and knowing the short time they had, they sought to make the most of their brief lives by running rampant, giving every vein with a spiteful kick. It was the last straw to a string of unfortunate occurrences, bringing the cool fire out from the pit of his stomach, charring his tongue and mind. Eerily so, the man’s expression was unreadable, not a line appearing on his fair skin. Preoccupied with controlling the flames, Eoin moved silently past Rista and off to side of the courtyard where the crowds were sparse to non-existent. Temporarily, he was unable to regain control, wanting only to at least be away from others in order to not lash out at them. However, the man almost expected Rista to follow despite his wish to be alone, perhaps as an enabler, perhaps out of loneliness. Nonetheless, it wasn’t a particularly smart choice, but for once the Avora wasn’t thinking, only feeling.

[Rista]

She regained her balance and slowly straightened her back again, eyes glued in shock to the place where the bead had shattered against the ground. Her hand felt empty now that the green drop of glass no longer rested on the palm; a feeling of loss slowly reached her through the numbness of her mind, and of regret. This was slowly becoming too much, the emotions that swirled within were too strong and left her numb and slow in reacting. Even more surprised was she when Eoin without a word went to pay the vendor for the lost item, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rista didn't know what to say, what to do. She just stared helplessly at the young man and tried to formulate words on her tongue, an apology, a thank you, anything really that could make up for this blunder. She couldn't read anything on his face, it seemed to have locked up leaving only the green eyes to serve as a murky window where nothing could be discerned clearly what he felt, what he thought. What would happen now? The thought flew through her mind and slowly faded again as it was left unanswered. What would indeed happen now...

An emptiness of her hands slowly woke the young woman from her numbness. As she looked down on her hands, she began to remember the cause for all these events, and felt her eyes widen as she looked at her empty palms. The book! where was it, where had it gone? Please don't say that she had dropped that too, she would never recover from the shame! Black eyes darted wildly all around her, her hands patted at the waistline of the bryda where she usually tucked away things she couldn't be bothered to hold on to. A movement of a foot made it bump into something, and as she looked down a wave of relief surged through her mind. There it was. She must have dropped it, even if she couldn't remember when. Quickly the copped-hued yasi leaned down and picked up it, examined the carvings of the cover to make sure it hadn't been damaged.

When she looked up again, mouth open to speak to the Avora she was in company with, he wasn't there. Rista blinked and looked around, her eyes searching for the short red hair and the shape of his shoulder among the crowd. For a long second she thought he had disappeared, been engulfed by the bellowing mass of people. A heavy feeling tried to take root within her, of disappointment and sadness of screwing things up this much. There! A flash of his red shade appeared a few strides away. She quickly came to her feet, opening her mouth to shout at him, tell him to wait. Where was he going? His steps didn't look very purposeful, not like they had been just before. Besides, what was it that she wanted to say? Sorry, thank you? Both? It wasn't something she could just scream out over the Courtyard for anyone to hear.

For a moment, a very brief moment the mongrel weighed the option of just remaining where she was. She had the book now, held it firmly tucked to her chest with both arms wrapped around it as not to loose it again. He had decided all by himself to pay for the broken bead, she owed him nothing. She could just turn around, be on her way and try to have a good time for the reminder of the day... Then Rista made a grimace, disgusted by herself. Such selfishness, was that really who she was? True, many times it was exactly how she acted, childishly pushing the result of her actions on others and excused it with the fact that they had gotten involved in the first place. They could have said no. But.. did she really want to leave an impression like that with this person? One of the first people that had actually listened to her. The face of the yellow-eyed Sairque passed through her mind, and before she knew it, Rista was already beginning to move forward, faster and faster to try and catch up to him with her short legs.

No. It wasn't going to end like this, definitely not. She wouldn't shame herself by acting selfishly, she wasn't going to let Sairque Endal down. Sure the woman wasn't here, she probably didn't even care about what the mongrel yasi did outside her lessons, but the flightleader had left a deep impression on Rista after their long journey together at the beginning of the season. The thought of this ever coming to her ears and causing her to frown... No.

Before she realized it, the girl had begun to run over the market place, weaving quickly through the crowd while trying not to bump into anyone. Her eyes were locked on the broad shoulders of the Avora, somehow she actually managed to get closer. Three strides separated them, two, one. Her face glowed from the determination to catch up to Eoin, cheeks reddened by her spurt, and once she was close enough Rista let go of the precious book with one hand, still tucking the volume to her chest with the other as she stretched out, fingers reaching to grip around the mans arm.

"Wait!" she pleaded, her voice out of breath and completely oblivious to the mood that had made the man leave her behind. The sound of people had faded, they were the only people in that particular spot. Unprotected, no longer bound by a need to act properly.. but things like that were beyond the girl right now. She just wanted him to wait a little so she could catch up and try to set things right.

oocI don't mind at all, I frankly haven't noticed anything ^^ I just really love replying to this thread, so no need to worry at all. The suspense only makes it so much better..

[Eoin]

Upon touch, Rista would feel a searing heat emanating from his skin, unusually hot even in comparison to the usual, high temperature. His composure remained steady and calm on the surface, with no other visible signs of distress aside from a modest red to the back of his neck. Barely did he budge when the Yasi reached for him, and with a heavy arm, he had unintentionally pulled her forward as he slowed to a halt. The man seemed flesh no longer, a mechanical creature that thought nothing and merely behaved, his mind weighed with emotion. Thus, left without a memory to follow, the body wandered aimlessly amidst the boiling mire. Anger was not a recent nor frequent visitor to his door, and despite successful farewells, at times it simply barges in and mockingly welcomes itself home. The man stood perfectly still, eerily so like that of a statue trapped in time, lacking the common accompaniment of quiet sentiments. When Rista finally moves within view, she would be face to face with Eoin no longer, but a stranger in the skin of the Avora. When the moment called for his mastery over emotions, why could he not control himself? Why was he even feeling this way about something so insignificant, only a loss of a small trinket and a few pinions? Why bother with immature youths who already believed they were above animosity, their pride keeping them aloft, momentarily safe upon their eroding platforms? Why his sister and not him, why his mother and not him, why, why... By gods, why couldn’t he stop thinking about them? Her plead was lost, trampled beneath desperate attempts for control, his grip weakening upon the capsizing ship with he, the captain, following suit. Sink or swim, the time was now, but an ingrained tendency to hold on caused him to hesitate, slipping as a foot was caught by the raging waters. “Why?” He echoed those haunting thoughts in a feeble attempt for release, his voice biting but otherwise toneless, unemotional. There was a chill to his words, a dark haze to those eyes that no longer encouraged comfort, but inspired hopelessness. It almost seemed as though the man was questioning the girl’s concern, her action in following him, and chastising her for it. Even in this state of emotional turmoil, Eoin kept his gaze on Rista, but rather than see the maturing Yasi, he saw the faces of women, the women he knew and loved. At first he was engaged in deciphering one from the other, for their features blended into an ever changing cycle, but upon further examination, he could see the discontinuity between their experienced expressions and the young girl’s figure. They weren’t the one and the same, and neither was Vala, and neither was any other Inartan woman. He understood, but their smiles never faded. “Take the book.” Rather than a pitiful request, Eoin spoke with strength and authority. It may have been a perfect façade of control, if it were not for the red, half collar adorning his skin. He had already let a thought slip through, and before could pass through, the man wanted to be free of company. This was an embarrassment, shameful, and Eoin could not let the empty orchestra continue to play. Any hope he had in Rista’s aid was dissolving quickly, for her very presence was bringing him unintended grief. It’d be best to be alone, to take in those demons once more and trap them within the walls that guarded his own self, leaving the man to their vices. Discipline, punishment, the very least that he could do to atone. There was a limit, even for Eoin.

[Rista]

The heat that radiated from his arm made the girl flinch and let go, as if she had burned herself. He had finally stopped, but not until she had indeed been dragged a few steps, surprised by his strength and how he didn't seem to have heard her. Rista felt a frown wanting to lower over her face but tried to chase it away, suddenly feeling uncertain about this. What was up with him? He had just left like that, and now he wasn't responding. She took a step forward, then another, until she could gaze up at Eoin and see his face, catch a glimpse of his eyes...

Her eyes widened in realization as she saw the expression, noticed the reddening of his neck and the distant look of the green gaze. He was angry. Icy, steaming hot angry, if that made any sense, and for some reason he was keeping it in, swallowing it down until it looked like it would shatter him from within. The yasi pressed her lips together when he spoke, the short 'Why' feeling both cold and disdainful... She couldn't blame him. He had every right to be angry at her, after having screwed things up like this. First she snatched the book right under his nose, then she slapped him in the face on a public site, and then she broke the gift he had picked out. No reason not to be angry, but why was he swallowing it like this?

A stubborn line appeared around her mouth as he tried to make her take the book, and disregarding his foul mood the short girl shook her head and held out the petching journal towards him. It wasn't that she didn't want it, nor was she trying to appease his temper. She wasn't one to do either of those things. Rista was fair though, and according to her she didn't have right to the book anymore.

"It's not mine" she said, voice determined as she defied his words and stared up into his eyes with her black, bottomless gaze. "We had a deal, right? If you found something I wanted more than this thing, I'd give it to you. Remember? Well, you found it. Maybe not the bead, even if it was really pretty. No, I'd rather have your friendship than this journal. So the book is yours; it can't be helped that I might have ruined everything by acting rashly..."

Her words surprised herself, they weren't the ones she had thought to say. Rista felt that she meant it though. There was a steady calm within her gaze as she stared up at the man, unaffected by the coldness of his face or how he seemed to just stare right through her. It wasn't pleasant, but she wasn't scared or intimidated. She had met people that were far more intimidating than him, even when they weren't angry.

"I overstepped the boundaries" she continued and kept offering him the book. "I apologize for the shame I've caused you, I'm truly very sorry. I'll accept whatever punishment you may deal.. If you want to hit me, then go ahead. There's no one around, nobody will care..." The girl quietly readied herself, tensed a little and braced herself in case he took her up on her offer. It wouldn't be the first time she was struck, and without doubt not the last time either. If it could solve anything, if only just to even the scores between them, then she would take anything. She didn't know why, but she found herself liking this person; to part with all these difficult feelings and unsettled matters hovering in the air wouldn't be good, she didn't want that.

[Eoin]

Just as Eoin was slow to anger, but once ignited, it was difficult to suppress the fiery emotions. Despite the rationality behind Rista’s words and his own logic, the rage that had been pent up for years was a formidable beast to defeat. Even the offer of friendship, a gift more valuable to the lonesome Avora than almost any other, was not enough to give pause to an inevitable battle. At this point, anything and everything seemed to add fuel to the fire, including her disobedience and later, the suggestion of beating by his hand. She knew nothing about him, but the idea of violence was logical in the hierarchal society that was theirs, a fitting proposition in all. Resentment bubbled ominously within him, a convoluted mixture of hatred and longing for the culture he followed since birth. To be an acceptable Inarta was a dream that could not be with a nature as obstinate as his and with a mind unwilling to bend. Yet, Eoin could not bring himself to treat others as his mother has so often been treated: beaten, insulted, disgraced. He understood the necessity for such a system, but was such mistreatment necessary? Was a sliver of kindness impossible, even for those that were of that kitchen Yasi’s, or his mother’s ilk? This was a compromise created to satisfy his contrasting opinions, and like most compromises was unable to fully satisfy either party, leaving traces of disagreement that have since festered to bitter hate. Self-restraint was slipping through his fingers in swift, unraveling threads of silk, revealing a darkened figure beneath. It would be so easy to strike the Yasi across the face, to brand that young, copper skin with an enraged blow. It would certainly aid in quelling his demons, for they would rejoice in his succumbing of temptation and momentarily detach themselves from the wounds of the past. However, was he capable of doing this? To him, Rista was undeserving of physical punishment, or any punishment, for he had agreed to this deal. It may have been unfair for her to snatch the book from him, or to strike him in public, but that did not warrant a beating. Eoin cared little about their castes, though fully aware of his power and authority, he wished to exercise equal treatment at least in the way he lived his life. The man was not looking to change anyone, but to be true to his principles. The book, pointing at him from her outstretched hands, no longer felt as though it belonged to him. Still, Eoin was not quite in control of himself just yet, his whitening knuckles a testament to the inner struggle. So badly he wanted to hit this child, and that desire was only growing by the second. The clarity of the overlapping faces was increasing, each eyelash and wrinkle seemed more real and tangible the longer his gaze lingered on Rista. Briefly, he wondered if it was this cursed pair of moss green eyes that were giving him these visions, for they were the only resembling trait between he and his once lovely mother. Perhaps this was what she saw when she looked at the man that called himself her son, only the faces of others that haunt her, of his sire, of Noelle. He edged closer to her, taking the book only to remove the annoying presence that hindered his path. His gait was unnatural, for it lacked the heavy grace and deliberate footfalls, but it was difficult to place the minute differences with so few steps taken. There was an air of intimidation with he, the tall Avoran man, looking down upon a small, female Yasi with a reaching hand. When his fingers neared, his palm fell suddenly onto the curve of her shoulders, his grip tightening with uncomfortable strength. Eoin appeared cold and daunting, a predator before its prey. His lips parted, but then closed after a moment of silence as Eoin was finding it difficult to choose the correct words to use, ones that would curb Rista’s desire to remain. “I will never hit you.” He spoke, pushing the easiest sentence out first. Eoin thought to add more but dismissed the idea, not wishing to preach. After a pause, he assured. “This is not your fault.” The smiles continued to grow, the masks thickening to the point where Rista’s face was becoming lost amongst them. They drove another spear to his side, adding to his guilt, adding to his anger. Despite his forgiving words, his fingernails dug into her skin, as though they desired to worm their way inside her body. It was taking all of his willpower not to snap at, push or hit the Yasi, for he wished to preserve the potential for companionship. Distracted, Eoin did not notice Rista wincing from the pain, continuing on with a warning that sounded more like a threat after yet another unsettling pause. “I wish to be your friend, but it would best for me to be alone now.”

[Rista]

Tension hovered in the air as silence stretched out between them, trembling and almost thick enough to be cut with a knife. The longer it went on, the more Rista found herself unnerved by it as she stared up at the man. The battle within him was obvious even without being reflected on the face; the stony features were almost evidence in themselves, seeing how different they were from the calm, kind warmth they had displayed earlier. Without really meaning to the girl swallowed, uncertainty growing for each chime that passed; had he not heard her? She thought he had, he was looking so intently on her.. but it was as if he didn't see her, or if he was gazing at something only he could see. It was annoying, frustrating and a little bit frightening...

She had almost begun to give up hope of a response when he suddenly reached out and took the book from her, the movements jerky and completely lacking the smoothness they had held before; a smile began to form on her lips, but as he continued forward and raised a hand towards her, the short girl had it disappear again and braced herself, ready for the strike she was sure would come. No one could be that angry and not let it out, it had to give way for something, at some point. The intensity of the man increased, Rista wasn't sure that she even recognized Eoin within the person that now hovered over her, the arm now lowering towards her.

She blinked, and cringed as his palm fell upon her shoulder; it felt slightly too big, disproportionate as it was to her petite built, and heavy as if he trying to press her down on her knees. The dark-haired young woman resisted, shifted her feet to be able to carry the weigh better and listened with growing disbelief to his words. He wouldn't strike her, ever? That was a huge promise, to her it seemed almost foolish; of course he would, he was an Avora and he was incredibly angry, more so than Rista had seen with anyone in a long, long time. Sudden flares of temper were common, happened every day around here, but they were gone just as quickly as they came, a sudden clash of thunder on a blue sky. This seething, contained rage felt unhealthy somehow; gritting her teeth as his nails dug into her skin and created half-moon shaped marks just on the verge of breaking blood, she had to fight a sudden urge to tear herself loose, wail and flee in panic.. it hurt.

Pain had always been a source of fear to her, an opponent that had to be faced and defeated on a constant basis. She invited it so that she could conquer it, but those times it had always been expected, she had been prepared for it. Like this, Eoin's words clashed greatly against the gnawing, slowly increasing pain and made her confused; a part of her wanted to stay and help him through whatever ordeal it was that made him act like this, while another part just wanted to scream at him to let go. His request of her to leave was met with a gasp of breath and a wince of pain; the girl actually did try to move, realized the wise thing in doing as he said. She couldn't though; under the heavy hand and the clawing, vice-like grip of her shoulder she couldn't budge, he was too big and too strong. Keeping a small, fourteen year old girl in a firm grip was rarely a difficult task, and with anger increasing adrenaline, it was a small miracle that he hadn't made her bleed yet.

Closing her eyes for a moment to battle her instincts to try and tear herself loose, she instead tried to talk to him once more. She couldn't make herself risk more pain by ripping away, she might leave flesh and skin behind if she did and the thought made her feel a bit nauseous.
"In that case you have to let me go. Eoin? Let me go, or I can't leave.." Her eyes gleamed as she looked up him, the face tense from pain and a sudden realization of the danger of this situation. It was clear that he was on the verge of breaking under the pressure, and also that he didn't want to hurt her; if she remained close there was a risk that he might snap and end up taking all that rage out on her. Rista thought she would be able to take it, but it was unclear whether their mutual wish for friendship would survive something like an assault; the tension was grueling though, this stillness felt more threatening than anything she had faced before. Something deep within her mind screamed for him to give in, let out whatever feelings that tried to suffocate him; they were nearing a point of no return, if they hadn't already crossed it with her being unable to leave right away... Anything at all would probably be better than this excruciating stillness.

[Eoin]

oocOh Eoin, you're so frustrating to play sometimes...

If Rista leaves, we can start again within this thread if you'd like them to meet later in the day. Or a new thread for another day. Your call.

Eoin had little awareness of his own actions, the power of his grip multiplied by a seething anger and raging adrenaline. However, when Rista had made clear of their situation, he found that it difficult to detach from her, from those serene smiles. They were telling him to let them go, but could he? How long had it been since he had chased after their empty shadows, stumbling along the way like a fool, feeling little joy in seizing what he had already lost? It was pointless, he knew, but he continued to live as he did out of…obligation, guilt, self-punishment? Now they were setting him free, but the man was not sure if he knew how to be. In the crevices of his mind, Eoin knew that this was not them, merely a hallucination brought by rebelling emotions and his overactive imagination, an ability honed through years of solitude. He could overlook them if he wanted, if he tried harder, or was better, but he was only an Avora, only Eoin. Without them, he would have no purpose. “Don’t.” He mumbled, his gaze still faraway and burning, exposing the persistent flames of his anger. Despite the single, overwhelming emotion, he felt the relieving sensation of another beginning to edge into place, an aching disappointment that produced a bitter taste. Really, where would he be without the women that defined his life? Who would he be? He would miss who he is, and for once, seemed to fear conforming to the Inartan culture. After all, look at where his family ended up by following that path, one of reckless expression and swelling pride. Conflicted, his heart dulled to a heated, throbbing mess. Eoin seemed to rest momentarily on Rista’s shoulder, before suddenly detaching his nails from her skin to reveal a trail of red crescents. He released her with a stutter, his hand hovering before retracting to a loose fist, his arm falling with a faltering sweep. “Please go.” The Avora removed himself promptly as he walked closer to the courtyard’s edge, slow and deliberate, finding a sense of stability when he supported himself against the wall with his arm outstretched. When he was out of earshot, Eoin let a quiet, quivering exhale escape, locking his lips almost immediately after. His back was slightly hunched, looking beyond his years. If Rista remained, it would be quite some time before the Avora moves again, remaining frozen within that shell until the flares finally subside. Should she engage in conversation, the man would take a gratuitous pause before speaking, his tone light with grit from emotional exhaustion.

[Rista]

Seconds passed by, time tainted and dragged out by confusion, pain, emotions mixing and stirring, never settling for long enough to reach a conclusion about anything she might be wondering about. The fingers continued to dig into her shoulder, and as it never seemed to stop the girls mind slowly shrank, awareness fixing upon the pain until it was all she could feel. She hated it, loathed the way it numbed her mind, felt contempt over her trembling breaths as she struggled not to begin crying. Tears wouldn't solve anything. And it wasn't like it would make this man less angry, right? More likely it would have the opposite effect, cause him to deal the strikes he'd withheld so far out of pure annoyance. Who ever saw any Inarta cry? For that matter, had anyone heard of a Chaktawe shedding tears either? For a people living in a desert, water must be too precious to waste like that... Don't? Don't do what? Talk, leave, what wasn't she supposed to do? Rista didn't want to leave, not really, but pain was suggesting that it was a good idea to do as he said, even if it hadn't been phrased as an order.

For what felt like a small eternity they remained locked like that, the taller red-haired, green-eyed man grasping the shoulder of the small dark-haired girl with the obsidian eyes; to a passerby it might look like words were spoken in confidentiality, maybe a scolding or perhaps even an affectionate gesture between a student and a senior... They would have to get closer to pick up on the tangible tension in the air, see the involuntary expression of pain on the girls face, and the stony, ice-cold rage of the Avora.

When the grip on her shoulder finally relented, the girl was quick to back off, out of reach for the hand that hovered over her a moment. Gulping down fresh air into the lungs, she hadn't even been aware that she held her breath; the opposite hand reached up to clutch the shoulder in a sore grip, the black gaze wary and a bit sad as she looked at Eoin. His words felt like a wall, tempting to challenge and climb, curiosity prodding her into finding out what it was that they tried to hide; she was all too aware of the barbed top of the wall though, and the possibility of something nasty on the other side. Swallowing and cursing her own weakness, Rista took a step backwards, then another.

"I'm sorry" she mumbled, and looked away from the man as if to spare him the humiliation of being seen in such a state, so inhibited. "For not being able to help.. Sorry, Eoin." A final hesitating step was taken, and then the girl spun around and walked away quickly, giving in to his request and the weakness within that whispered promises of pain and sadness if she stayed much longer. Not at all happy with herself, the small girl soon disappeared in the crowd of people, cradling the shoulder and suddenly lacking any desire to play anymore games. Actually, spending anymore money on nonsensical things wasn't very tempting either. She'd find something else to do, possibly in a place where there weren't a lot of drunk, overexcited people. She hoped he would be alright... But yeah, he probably would. He was an Avora after all, a grown man. Surely he didn't need the attention or presence of a small girl, who for that matter had problems of her own to deal with. Trying to close her eyes to the sting of guilt that spread through her mind, the yasi set course for the darker corridors of the warrens, wandering aimlessly in search for something to occupy her mind with.

oocLet's start up a new one then ^^ I'll post it, we'll see where she feels like meeting him again