Completed [Second Quiver] Hitting the Mark (Marrin)

[Azira]

   

8th Fall 513AV, 19th Bell

There was nothing as satisfying as hearing the thunk of arrows hitting the target. That was especially true after a frustrating day's work. Azira knew at least that the arrow was hitting the mark, unlike the failed shots of the day. She'd lost a rabbit because it'd been spooked and had loosed an arrow at the moment it'd bolted, missing it. Her traps had been chewed through by the creatures themselves by the look of them and she'd hurt her toe through her boot. It was safe to say that the huntress was not happy.

Her displeasure was apparent, the arrows hitting the target with more force than necessary, the tips lodging deeply. All her frustration was being channeled through her archery but it wasn't being channeled fast enough. She couldn't reload or shoot as quickly as a more experienced archer and so she couldn't release her frustration as quick as she needed it to go. The teen was likely to bite the head off anyone who dared to disturb her now.

There was that prickling feeling on the back of her neck, a feeling that made her feel as if someone was watching her. She was probably just being paranoid but then she'd been wrong previously. After all, only a few days before she'd looked around to find a Symenestra watching her. Today, however, she wasn't in the mood for such interaction and so she just hoped that if someone was watching her that they'd stop doing it or simply say something.

x

[Marrin]

”You’re holding the string too long, and it makes your arms shake. It’ll make you less accurate. Never stop your drawing arm to aim. It should always be in motion. And if you keep pulling your bow string that far back you’ll either snap it, the bow or your arm.” Marrin had come to the Second Quiver on the day before his next hunt in order to practice his aim. He could feel he was getting better with the bow, slowly joining with it, but he was far from perfect. He’d missed several choice shots on the past three hunts, despite his desperate need to get better. He’d come here to improve…but couldn’t help but notice as he was stringing his bow one of the other hunters of his caste. She was young, perhaps a year younger than he, and pleasing to the eye. Speaking up to correct her made his throat dry, despite his self-calming internal mantras. Women always made him nervous in one way or another, not because they threatened him but because…well, he couldn’t really put his finger on it. There was simply something about him that made his stomach flutter and his lungs hitch. None the less, he’d irked up the courage to speak to her. He remembered the girls face from when they were both Yasi. They’d never spoken, but she was one of the youngers that had been apprenticed as a hunter alongside him. She seemed agitated, yanking her bow string back and burying her arrows deep into her targets. She seemed to tense up as he spoke, as if she were going to whirl around and imagine his head was one of the straw targets down the shooting lane. He gulped, starting to regret his decision to speak up, but what was done was done. He finished fastening his shooting glove and archery brace as he waited for her to speak.

[Azira]

   

The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. The huntress hadn't been expecting it and it had upset her aim, causing her arm to jerk and release the arrow she'd been holding. It completely missed the target, snapping on the wall behind it. Grinding her teeth, she turned to glare at the speaker. She thought it was another hunter as there was something vaguely familiar about him but she couldn't be sure. 

Lowering the bow, Azira placed one hand on her hip and gave him a filthy look. "Was that entirely necessary? You made me miss!" she snapped back in reply. How dare he tell her how to shoot! How dare her interrupt her in the middle of the shot too! The Avora was itching to threaten to put an arrow through him to see if he'd critique her archery technique then. Though he did look frightened of her already, she could see it in his eyes. Good.

"Did you want something from me or did you just want to complain about my technique?" she asked him, regarding him coolly. The teen didn't feel like she could go back to shooting if she knew he was watching her. She'd be expecting him to say something at every moment and that would be seriously off putting. Maybe he'd have the sense to apologise and retreat with his tail between his legs.

The young woman felt like throwing the bow at him but that wouldn't really achieve anything. It'd make her feel better, sure, but she also risked breaking the bow in the process. Maybe she could make him regret interrupting her if she kept glaring at him.

x

[Marrin]

Her glare was intense, and as he stared into the amber eyes of the young woman that stood before him he noticed they were rather glassy. The reflection he saw in them, his own, had the surprising illusion of being on fire. He blinked, surprised and bewildered, but the image was soon gone. Must have been my imagination he thought to himself. This woman, and everything about her, was intense and charged with emotion. The way her eyes narrowed at him, the hand on her hip, the bevel of her knee, the tenseness of her jaw; all of it had subtle meaning Marrin couldn’t quite decipher. He could tell she was upset, but was sure his protests as to her form weren’t all that brought on her fury. Something had happened earlier in the day, something else to cause this frustration. He’d just cracked the floodgates, he could tell. With a small smile he rose “I didn’t make you miss, you allowed yourself to be startled. You have to keep a calm head when shooting or you’ll make stupid mistakes and hurt someone.” He was sure he sounded condescending, no doubt, but in truth he was only looking to help. He spent most of his time alone with his bow and the trees, and didn’t have much time to refine his socializing skills. “And I’m not complaining, I’m correcting you. You aim to become a better shooter, yes? That’s why you come to the shooting range. I’m simply trying to help you reach your goals.” His smile was forced, though more to mask the slight fear he felt than from contempt for the woman. She was only as hot-headed as the rest of the flame-haired women on the mountain, and Marrin was used to being shouted at. He approached her slowly, bow in his left hand and quiver strapped to his back, filled with the same 20 shortbow arrows he used for hunting. “If you’re truly so upset about one missed shot and a broken arrow, I can buy you some more. We can toss the loss into the Pit for the Dek and get you a freshly fletched arrow.”

[Azira]

   

Oh, this one knew exactly what he was doing. She hated people who knew what they were doing but decided to point out your cluelessness. Had it been entirely necessary for him to interrupt? And worse he'd had the cheek to blame her for missing when it was his fault. The huntress could feel her nostrils flare as she prepared something to snap back at him.

"Well unless there are any talking rabbits out in the Unforgiving, I won't be startled, now will I?" she retorted, giving him a disdainful look. "Come across any of them, have you? I didn't think so. So why don't you mind your own business? I didn't ask for your help so why don't you just butt out?" She wouldn't be able to concentrate now, he'd made sure of that. If she tried to shoot now, the bow would snap for sure.

He just kept smiling at her, the smarmy git, grinning like a maniac. Azira was sure she'd seen a flash of fear in his eyes not so long ago and his steps towards her seemed cautious as if he was wary of her. Wary wasn't good enough for her though; she wanted him frightened. But how  could you frighten someone bigger than you? She'd gotten much better at it as she grew older but it didn't always work.

As soon as the hunter was in reach, the Avora dropped her bow and swung her right hand out, palm flat, to slap him. She needed to take it out somehow and what better way than physically, especially with the element of surprise on her side. A slap wouldn't do a lot of damage but it certainly made you think twice about repeating offensive behaviour.

"Leave me alone!" she shrieked.

x

[Marrin]

Her palm connected with his face with the speed of a peregrine, turning his head completely to the side before screaming something out of a cacophony directly into his exposed ear. His cheek throbbed, inside and out, as he had bitten it when the force of the blow pushed it between his teeth. He could taste the light accent or iron, blood, as he slowly turned to look back at the hysterical woman. He was sure he’d gone too far, pushed her beyond her tipping point, but he wasn’t sure how. That was how his master had taught him, and all his words were good intentioned. He felt a rage building inside him, one forged in regret and lack of understanding. He was angrier with himself than with her, but the ice in his gaze was no less potent as it looked her over. The two of them were halves of a whole, fire and ice. Fire was prideful, hot-headed and ever-changing, ice stubborn and unflinching, cold as Morwen’s breath. It was no wonder the two of them came to a head so quickly, after only a few words. His jaw was tight, teeth grinding with fury, lip nearly curled in contempt and pity. “You keep hurting all those that seek to help, and none will be left when you need them most.” Leaving his cryptic prophecy in the air, Marrin stormed off to find an archery lane of his own. He came to practice, not argue, and by the gods he was going to do it. Secret :

[Azira]

   

OOCLoved that! Think I just sat there for a minute just watching it

Her palm had made contact with his cheek, spinning his head in the process. His eyes seemed at first confused and shocked but then became hard and cold. The pair glared at each other. Azira didn't think she'd ever seen anyone look at her so coldly before. A cold glare? Was that even possible? She wouldn't have thought so if she hadn't been at the end of such a look.

A jolt went through her body when he broke the silence between them. She hadn't been expecting it at all and his words caught her off guard. He'd hit closer to the mark than he could possibly know when he spoke. It made the huntress angrier if that was possible. How could he say something like that when he knew nothing about her? How had he been so right? Dropping her bow, she followed him as he moved away.

"What the petch is that supposed to mean? What do you know about me? Absolutely nothing!" the teen called after him as he tried to escape her. "You're such a petching coward, running off like that just because you got hit by a girl!" she taunted, hoping to get to him the same way he'd gotten to her

x

[Marrin]

OOCI thought you’d like it! It’s what I thought of as soon as I imagined the scene you described. Coward. The word flew through him like a freshly forged arrowhead, still hot from the hearth fires. He stopped in his tracks, threatening to crack his teeth as his jaw only became tighter. His free hand balled into a fist, the other tightening around his bow. He stuck a foot out, spinning on his heels and locked eyes with his accuser. Coward. Heed the word he must, lest a craven he become. She was goading him on, to be sure, but if he didn’t continue now it would be admitting defeat. She’d cornered him, trapped him with walls of words. When it came to fight or flight, he was sorely reminded that he did not know how to run, even if it was what was best. He jabbed a finger out at her, jabbing her collarbone as if it helped to direct his fury. He spoke softly, trying his hardest not to scream at her. Perhaps it was his foreign heritage that allowed him what little control he had over his emotions, he did not know. But his temper was no less frightening than the Inarta’s fire. He held within him a whole new breed of rage even he did not fully comprehend. “Listen here, little chick, and listen well. I have no business with one as primly clipped as you are, flying off the handle at the first critique you get. I only sought to help, and what do you do but throw it in my face.” He kept taking steps forward, pressing the nail of his finger deeper into her flesh, encroaching until he towered over her. His heritage made him taller than most Inarta, and this prideful squirt was quite a number smaller than he. ”It’s obvious to me that you don’t want my help, though the gods know you need it, and while I’m more than willing to lend my aid,” his tone quickly flicked from quiet and menacing to a screaming fury ”I WILL NOT BE DISRESPECTED IN THIS MANNER!” He shoved his hands out, hoping to make her stumble back but not hard enough to make her fall. ”I know all I need to know about you,” he spat like an enraged cat, shaking his head with disapproval. She’d done more than disrespect him, she’d disappointed him. He wasn’t sure how, after such a short interaction. Perhaps he hoped, for once, that talking to one of the other hunters would end well for him. It hadn’t before, and it certainly didn’t seem to now.

[Azira]

   

It had worked. The hunter stopped abruptly as if he'd hit an invisible wall, turning to lock eyes with her, his jaw tight. She glared right back at him, her expression a challenge to do something about what she'd said. She'd certainly struck a nerve as he advanced towards her and began to prod her, allowing his nail to dig into her flesh. She winced at the touch and the sting, her face alternating between paling in horror and flushing in fury at the contact.

The teen was taller than she was, unusually tall actually, and as a result towered over her. Despite that she stood her ground, not allowing herself to be intimidated by his closeness or his soft spoken insults. The huntress just continued to glare at him until he shoved her. The movement caught her off guard, unbalancing her enough to make her land on her ass.

The impact with the hard ground sent pain through her but also brought a flush of humiliation to her cheeks. Azira wasn't going to let that stop her changing this turn of events to her advantage.

"Gods you really are pathetic, aren't you? Can't find anyone your own size to push around? Like having the upper hand over young women in fight? I bet it makes you feel like a big man," she sneered, picking herself up and dusting herself off. "Like to throw anything else at me, deklicker?"

x

[Marrin]

OOCSorry this was so short. Arguments kinda need a constant back and forth. His jaw nearly dropped as she turned his advantage into a disadvantage with but a sentence. Coward. Pathetic. He blinked, swallowing his self-deprecation. It was hard, someone on the outside telling him what he fought so hard against on the inside. But he wouldn’t let it show, Ivak willing. He managed in that second to see a sort of irony in the situation that made him laugh. It wasn’t a happy, airy chortle but more one melted and mixed with disgust. ”You think I’m pathetic? Let’s take a look at you, then.” By now all eyes were on the arguing pair, and he was sure to hear a thousand different rumors about the instance later. ”What do we have? A hunter that can’t shoot. A woman that’s happy to strike out at others, yet accuses them of treachery and cowardice when they strike back. You have little brains to go with all that rage, little chick. You’re a hypocrite and you know it.” He bit his cheek again, feeding the pain and the steady flow of blood into his mouth. Coward. Pathetic. The words ran through his mind like the ring of a bell, never ending and ever holding power over him. It was as if they were enormous towers that had so suddenly sprung from the ground, covered in brass and iron that rang until his ears began to bleed. This woman had wounded him, more than she knew. Now he was simply standing his ground and waiting to bleed out.