Invasion of the Booty Snatchers [Private]
Jan 14, 2023 13:42:52 GMT -5
Post by Vi'ira on Jan 14, 2023 13:42:52 GMT -5
Vi’ira’s fingertips rubbed raw as she attempted to grab hold of the cobblestone and interrupt the gnome’s plan, but the thorn’s continued to dig in deeper and the whip pulled harder. The vine began to slowly creep further up her leg as she was dragged across the square. The thorns moved from her shin to her upper thigh to her hip, piercing her skin with tiny holes every place it made contact.
It was hard to make out exactly what was going on around her from the mix of blurred vision and thrashing on the stone. The vine suddenly lost it’s pull, and Vi’ira sat up to see Cyran drive a dagger into the crown of the gnome’s hide and slide it out in one swift movement. A wave of relief crashed over her, and she allowed herself to momentarily collapse back on the path, her limbs spread haphazardly. Cyran was at her side almost immediately, tugging at the dead vines that still clung to her leg. As the thorns were removed, tiny bursts of pain remained where they had burrowed.
“It’s over.”
Cyran’s hand reached out to her like a beacon in the night. She grasped it firmly and rose to her feet, giving it a tight squeeze before releasing it. She made sure to put less weight on her right leg as it continued to throb. His nervous paternal instincts instantly activated as he began checking Vi’ira to see if she was alright. She chuckled quietly to herself, giving Cyran a pat on his upper arm. Her gaze softened.
He was so much like her mother.
“I should be the one askin’ ye, yer leg…” She moved around to see the wound, but he ushered her away, assuring her that he was fine. An age-old bounty hunter surely knows how to take care of himself, but Vi’ira’s worries didn’t care for his experience or strength. If a friend was hurt, she must be sure they’re okay, and thank the moon Cyran was. As they concluded attempting to play nurse for one another, Cyran turned away and kneeled over the closest gnome’s body. Vi’ira’s eyes danced with excitement as she made her way over to the thief she had taken down and began patting him down. The gnome had a bag secured to a sash running down his front. She tore it from his lifeless body and pried open the leather bag, only instead of a wrapped belt, a smaller blue-tinted bag lay inside. A smile grew on her face as she took hold of the bag and limped over to Cyran. It seemed he had the same idea, standing out in front of her with her belt resting in his palm.
“Here. I believe I promised that I would return this to you.”
Vi’ira reached out for her belt, the familiar weight in her hand easing any worries or past fury still running through her. She was quiet for a moment, silently adoring the accented moons and stars that danced across the metal. Her gaze returned to Cyran, an unmistakably happy expression plastered on her pale face.
“And this be yers, as promised.” She stepped out with her right leg, giving Cyran a small bow as she returned his property to him. Her best effort to bring a lightness back to their interactions, now that it was all over. She watched as Cyran admired his trinkets, a warmth spreading throughout the air around them. They exchanged sappy thank yous back and forth, both trying to emphasize their gratefulness as if it were a competition. But not too long after, Cyran’s face had wrought with worry once more as Vi’ira could only assume he recalled the incident from earlier regarding the visions omitted from the cloak. Before he could muster even a word of apology again, Vi’ira placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t need nor want yer apologies. Cyran, truly, I have nothin’ te be more grateful fer than yer protection and aid. As ye said, it’s over. I am alrigh’, ye are okay, that’s all that I care about.” Vi’ira paused as she let her statement rest in the air for a moment.
“Now, I need a drink,” she patted Cyran’s shoulder jovially, “and someone’s goin’ te put up wanted posters with our faces on ‘em if we don’t return this cloak.”
Vi’ira walked past him and looked up at the moon, taking it all in. She muttered a pleased orison in Elvish as she latched her belt around her hips and turned back to face Cyran. She just stared. Their cherished items had been returned, and yet, Vi’ira had gained so much more that day than her mother’s belt back or another adventure-filled story to tell.
She had met Cyran.
It was hard to make out exactly what was going on around her from the mix of blurred vision and thrashing on the stone. The vine suddenly lost it’s pull, and Vi’ira sat up to see Cyran drive a dagger into the crown of the gnome’s hide and slide it out in one swift movement. A wave of relief crashed over her, and she allowed herself to momentarily collapse back on the path, her limbs spread haphazardly. Cyran was at her side almost immediately, tugging at the dead vines that still clung to her leg. As the thorns were removed, tiny bursts of pain remained where they had burrowed.
“It’s over.”
Cyran’s hand reached out to her like a beacon in the night. She grasped it firmly and rose to her feet, giving it a tight squeeze before releasing it. She made sure to put less weight on her right leg as it continued to throb. His nervous paternal instincts instantly activated as he began checking Vi’ira to see if she was alright. She chuckled quietly to herself, giving Cyran a pat on his upper arm. Her gaze softened.
He was so much like her mother.
“I should be the one askin’ ye, yer leg…” She moved around to see the wound, but he ushered her away, assuring her that he was fine. An age-old bounty hunter surely knows how to take care of himself, but Vi’ira’s worries didn’t care for his experience or strength. If a friend was hurt, she must be sure they’re okay, and thank the moon Cyran was. As they concluded attempting to play nurse for one another, Cyran turned away and kneeled over the closest gnome’s body. Vi’ira’s eyes danced with excitement as she made her way over to the thief she had taken down and began patting him down. The gnome had a bag secured to a sash running down his front. She tore it from his lifeless body and pried open the leather bag, only instead of a wrapped belt, a smaller blue-tinted bag lay inside. A smile grew on her face as she took hold of the bag and limped over to Cyran. It seemed he had the same idea, standing out in front of her with her belt resting in his palm.
“Here. I believe I promised that I would return this to you.”
Vi’ira reached out for her belt, the familiar weight in her hand easing any worries or past fury still running through her. She was quiet for a moment, silently adoring the accented moons and stars that danced across the metal. Her gaze returned to Cyran, an unmistakably happy expression plastered on her pale face.
“And this be yers, as promised.” She stepped out with her right leg, giving Cyran a small bow as she returned his property to him. Her best effort to bring a lightness back to their interactions, now that it was all over. She watched as Cyran admired his trinkets, a warmth spreading throughout the air around them. They exchanged sappy thank yous back and forth, both trying to emphasize their gratefulness as if it were a competition. But not too long after, Cyran’s face had wrought with worry once more as Vi’ira could only assume he recalled the incident from earlier regarding the visions omitted from the cloak. Before he could muster even a word of apology again, Vi’ira placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t need nor want yer apologies. Cyran, truly, I have nothin’ te be more grateful fer than yer protection and aid. As ye said, it’s over. I am alrigh’, ye are okay, that’s all that I care about.” Vi’ira paused as she let her statement rest in the air for a moment.
“Now, I need a drink,” she patted Cyran’s shoulder jovially, “and someone’s goin’ te put up wanted posters with our faces on ‘em if we don’t return this cloak.”
Vi’ira walked past him and looked up at the moon, taking it all in. She muttered a pleased orison in Elvish as she latched her belt around her hips and turned back to face Cyran. She just stared. Their cherished items had been returned, and yet, Vi’ira had gained so much more that day than her mother’s belt back or another adventure-filled story to tell.
She had met Cyran.
protect him at all cost. (can’t use discord anymore so making use of this here)
