[Towers' Idol Slanderer] Killing Time

[Miro]

13th day of Winter, 511 AV

"Busy, busy, busy. Why must everybody be so busy? Nobody EVER has time for Miro. My arm suddenly heals and now nobody is around. I am not THAT scary am I?" Miro dropped his bare foot hard into a puddle causing it to splash over, hitting a few performers who looked less than pleased. One gave him a dirty look, and showed him her middle finger. He wasn't sure what was so special about it, but Miro assumed it was not meant as a friendly gesture. Miro stopped, turning towards the woman who had stopped her performance. She took a conveniently placed stone from near her feet and threw it at Miro, who rapidly turned to his side and ducked down, hoping that making himself a smaller target would cause the throw to fail. Unfortunately ducking caused it to hit him above the ear, causing a bit of blood to trickle down as Miro hit the ground. His clothes were wet and dirty, and the pain caused his eyes to turn to a light pink color. "Hah, You are lucky ya little bastard. I was aiming to ensure you hadn't the chance to produce any little brats of your own."

Miro's ear was ringing, but he heard enough to retaliate...with appropriate force of course. Climbing to his feet, Miro intended to teach the woman a lesson. The anger changed his irises to turn to a shimmering light red tint, and his fangs were extended. He was angry, but he knew the consequences to such killing, maiming, or making street performer's lives miserable in general. This one seemed to have a temper, and no very few skills. The poor woman was probably starving, and smelled as if she had hidden from any rain that fell in the past years. Miro understood why nobody remained in close proximity to her. Revenge would be sweet, and Miro would be sure that it would do more good than harm.

Miro dipped his foot into the deep puddle he had used before to splash, leaking his res into it. It didn't take long for him to attract the entirety of the puddle and overflow it a bit, dragging in more water from the surrounding areas. His fangs still remained visible and his eyes still a pinkish red color, but he carried a gentle smirk on his face. The woman looked more than a bit uneasy, seeing the unusual feature, as if he were some kind of monster. She pressed her back to the wall where she remained and her lips were pursed tight. "Oh, don't worry miss, that was a good throw. In fact, I have a tip for you!" Miro began to laugh hysterically for a moment, finding this joke to be SO clever. He drew back his laughter after seeing just how scared the woman looked, despite him not telling her not to worry. "I think you should take it to heart. Considering as I could smell you before I saw you, maybe you should BATHE MORE!" As Miro said the final words, he kicked his foot upwards delivering all of the water he had attracted, while chilling it all by converting his res to wind.

The woman, now instead of being scared, was yet again angry at him. Miro backed away as the woman reached into her dress, pulling a dagger hidden by her breast. Groaning angrily she stepped towards Miro, swinging with obvious wide slashes. They were obvious attacks, but the speed and power of them hinted that she made more of her money by taking it then earning it. Miro jumped back as the first one came close enough that he risked taking damage. With each consecutive strike the woman got more angry, making her attacks more obvious, but making them much more devastating if they were to hit. She lifted her hand up, signaling Miro to dodge. He felt the cold greeting of a wall to his back, leaving him with only the option to parry it with his hands.

Miro focused his mind on the arm and visualized his actions. Why did she have to be right handed? Miro pulled his djed flux heavily to his left arm. So much so that his right went limp and his weight was split between the wall and his legs that struggled to hold him up. He moved his hand as quickly as possible up and to the left, pushing her blade away just as it would have reached him, but still catching his above his elbow on the outer part of his arm.

The blade was still moving down, and now moved off its original course lead down into the woman's pant leg where it got stuck. She did not seem to be in pain, which was a relief, somehow, but it held there long enough for Miro to make his escape. He attempted to run off to the left, continuing down the street, but his legs were still weak, causing him to tumble down to the ground yet again. As he caught himself on his hands and knees, he saw the blood splatter down on the ground. How did all of this come about from a simple splash in a puddle?

Miro worked his way to his feet, running and running until he came to a peculiar statue. He hid behind it and peeked back to make sure he wasn't followed. As Miro sighed in relief he washed the dirt from himself by producing res from his skin and letting it trickle down to the floor. By the time he was done there was a puddle at his feet, a mix of dirt and blood floating in a pool of water. Miro held his hand to the wound and formed a scab of ice around his arm in a band. "Damn that bitch! I have never seen a crazier woman in my life! Sure did get her good though...I will count this as a victory for Miro."

Now Miro heard a deep hearty laugh. He looked around not sure where it was coming from. "What the hell do we have here? I knew mages were weak and pathetic, but this is too much. You there, boy! Did your mom not teach you that you shouldn't go out in public looking like a steaming pile of shyke? No, you mustn't have a family, or any common sense. I have seen all of the trash the city has to offer, but you are by far the worst. But, don't fret too much. Look at how nobody even notices you. Hell, they don't even want to be around you. I mean, look around, you have a real talent for keeping out of sight. Not one person can even bear to glance at the pathetic trash boy."

Hearing all of this was a shock. Miro knew who it was directed at, for there was no doubt, and as the statue had pointed out, few people were around, and the words sounded as if they came from somebody who knew him. Backing away from the statue, Miro saw the features. The shiny eyes, the cavity in his chest. There was no doubt, this was a product of animation. Miro studied it intensely. The once painful words now intrigued him, causing him to ponder its directives. Who would make such a terrible creation? Why would somebody ruin their reputation with such a creation. Just as curious was the fact that such a thing still stood. Taunting and cursing passersby. Unless that wasn't its directives, and Miro was in fact a special exception. What good did such a location provide?