Come At Me Bro

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Let's get this straight: Ontari was minding her own business walking through the streets of Azgeda's capital. The palace could be seen, like a tall mountain, from where ever a person was in the town. The streets could be anything from crowded with people to as silent as a moonless night, depending on how close they were to markets and places that people tended to crowd around in the day time. Even the children crowded around the same places, leaving so many spots dead and lifeless. Ontari was walking down one of those quieter streets, towards the markets, well and truly expecting to walk into crowded areas as she went. In those crowded areas, Ontari expected people to walk into her, bump into her. Heck, she expected to get hit by wooden swords and possibly have different sorts of food thrown at her or dropped on her. It was a hazard of a public place and Ontari was used to it. There was always a moment of silence when something like that happened, all eyes avoiding Ontari's gaze like she would have them executed on the spot for such a thing but she wasn't that bad. This was completely different. Ontari turned a corner, the streets still quiet around her. As she did so, another woman walked into her, bumping against her shoulder hard enough for a small shot of pain to run through Ontari's body and the impact to leave her feeling physically shaken. From years of training and battles, it only took Ontari a very short second to have recovered and turned to face the woman. Her eyes narrowed and a scowl at her face. "Excuse me, branwoda," Ontari sneered, her voice anything but quiet. She allowed a moment of silence between that and speaking again, waiting until she was completely sure she had the full attention of the other woman. "Watch where you're going. You aren't the only one out on the streets." While Ontari felt annoyed and ready to say more, she cut herself off there. She didn't want to start a fight with the woman, as much as it would seem she did want to. She was in a bad mood, having had a bad morning, and what she wanted to do was get to where she needed to go as quickly as she could. This only slowed her down. @cleo , Morial || It's short but I thought I'd just start it!

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Cities made Cleo’s palms itch. There were so many objects just lying around waiting to be stolen. But she was trying to be good. Emphasis on trying. Walking through the market was like dropping an addict in the middle of an opium den. One with severe consequences. It was one thing for Cleo to nick things in private. Slipping small objects away from Morial and the boys and waiting to see when they would notice. It had become something of a game. But here… Getting caught here would jeopardize things with Morial. And Cleo just wasn’t willing to do that at this point. So instead she kept her arms tightly crossed where her hands were slightly less tempted to casually pocket the shiny trinkets around them.

Morial was taking forever talking to whatever important person she was conversing with, so Cleo finally decided to ditch the market and explore the nearby streets. Maybe find a tavern or something. She hadn’t been around the capital city much. As a child, she had known better than to try stealing under the very noses of the queen’s guard. Now it might have been different, but she was also reformed now. Sort of. Mostly. Okay, so she was reformed when it suited her. Like now. Although if she was bored for much longer, that might change.

Cleo turned a corner at a fast walk, intent on getting away from the market and into the poorer parts of the city (the parts she was definitely more comfortable in), only to smack shoulders with another woman coming the opposite direction. Normally she probably would have let it go. Cleo had done more than her fair share of running into people on purpose to relieve them of certain valuables. This time she barely even spared a glance for the woman she had hit. But then the woman spoke, and the tone of her voice set Cleo’s teeth on edge. Cleo stopped walking and turned around, her eyebrows raised at the sheer gall of that statement. Who did this woman think she was? One look at her clothes said she was rich. Some upstart who thought she owned the world probably. As someone who had grown up fighting for every scrap, that attitude immediately set Cleo’s blood boiling.

She took one slow step forward and then another so she was standing in front of the woman with eyes narrowed dangerously. Cleo might be small, but her attitude made her seem far larger. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going, hainofi.” The last word carried all the sarcasm Cleo could force into it. Which was quite a lot. “Last I checked, you don’t own the street.” Had Cleo paid a little more attention to politics, she made have had some vague idea of just who this woman was. But politics didn’t put food in a belly. As far as Cleo was concerned, this was just another spoiled brat needing to be put in her place.

iah
(Let the sass battle begin!)