Flashback So, You Fight Here Often?

[Naia Whitewater]

Speech | Date, 515 AV | Thoughts

It'd been a week since Naia had stepped foot on Nykan soil, and the first time she'd been permitted to walk the streets alone. Already she didn't like the place, her grandparents were strange folk, and her father was oddly blissful and elated. Outside the little townhouse, a place so cramped and small it was a wonder none had suffocated, she heard things speak. 'The Snake,' her father said it was, 'one of the many wonders of Nyka.' Right - if that was what he called a wonder, her blood ran cold at the thought of what he termed a horror.

She gave a heavy breath, heading in the direction of the docks, her father's and grandparent's words ringing in her head like some horrid tune. Don't steal. If it wasn't bought with your own coin you have no right to it. Don't steal. They’ll brand you if you do. She rolled her neck as she came to a T section, taking a sharp right as she let her body sway and bump the wall beside her.

Regret and anger hit her in equal measure, with her own thicker form slamming into a body far more wiry, annoyance surging instantly. She locked her jaw and clenched her fists. Marvellous, just how she wanted to start the day. "So sorry," She said, drawing the syllables through gritted teeth, her tone deadpan and look vexed. Instantly there seemed to be a little standoff, with the other party not making an effort to move out of her way (Because, you know - if you run into someone they're the one that need to get out of the way). He had height, but nothing in terms of breadth. She gave him perhaps a year or two on her fourteen, nothing more.

She pressed her lips and glared at the scrawny teen a moment more, crinkling her nose as she rose on her toes before her impatience wore through her. She rolled her eyes and gave a huff, peeling past him with heavy steps and a scowl. He didn't seem too pleased with how things worked out, despite his little victory in Naia's folding - some slur and sigh escaping his own foul mouth when he seemed to think her a distance enough away. Only, it didn’t stop. His voice did not quieten as he dissolved into the distance, nor did it grow louder as though he was shouting in frustration. He was either following her, or increasing his own loudness to ensure he was heard.

Against her own better judgement, she stopped. It was quiet, then, and in her reverie she made a very, very, bad decision. "I’m sorry," she turned, and saw that he had indeed taken half a dozen steps after her as he spewed whatever nonsense it was. "Did you say something?" She probably could have escaped if she’d stopped herself there, only she didn’t. "You Nykans speak like you’ve a foot in your mouth – very hard to understand, you see," her comment was completely unfounded, she knew, her own way of speaking being the strange one.

Her own accent was harsh, with hard vowels and a quick tempo. It was hard to rid oneself of an accent when the entire crew spoke with one, though she hoped that living in Nyka would help her. “Who. The petch. Do you. Think. You are, foreigner?”

She stifled her laughter, though couldn’t so easily hide her smirk. He was puffed up like some self righteous merchant, attempting to use his height as a threat. "Naia Whitewater," she spoke, ensuring to take great care with her pronunciation. "And what of you? You Avikki legged land dweller."

[Naia Whitewater]

Naia's Speech | Thoughts | Other's Speech

Naia's little taunt didn't seem to go down all that well, the boy's face reddening with rage and fists clenching. Were all Nykans so easily pressed? She shot a glance down a narrow nearby alleyway, the look thrown by the odd native passing by showing an incredible amount of nothing. Perhaps a single look spared to size the two up, before a roll of their shoulders or a slightly heavier exhale was given. It seemed to be of little interest to them. If any, it was a good match between two that should be left as such.

When Naia's smug gaze returned to the dark haired, light eyed boy's, it was apparent in an instant that he, too, was sizing her up for a fight. “What the Hai did you just call me?”

She blinked, mock surprise taking to her features. “Do you not know what an Avikki is?” she questioned, walking to meet him as she spoke. If there was anything in the world that fifteen year old Naia Whitewater loved, it was causing trouble; riling people to such a point their rage outweighed their sense. With no oceans close enough by to calm and settle her, she let herself go full force. “I thought you weren’t all that bright,” she pressed, grin lopsided, her own entertainment at her snide remarks already the highlight of her time in Nyka thus far, “But ignorant to boot? You’re pushing-” the punch that swung in cut off her words, the Svefra barely managing a stumble back before another came her way.

Her left hand shot to her cheek, a graze of a messy punch flourishing in pain, a burst of confusion washing over her before she felt a solid contact to her left shoulder and almost hit ground. “Petch,” her voice was coarse and tone venomous, managing to pull herself back steps enough for the boy to back off for a moment, a smirk of self-satisfaction blazing across his lips.