Nolan watched as Ceren drained the last of her ale and made for the door, her parting words hanging in the air between them. More coin if the raiders were handled. That was all well and good, but it wasn’t what made him push back from the bar and rise to his feet. No, it was the look on her face when she’d caught sight of something outside.
Instinct.
He knew that look. That shift in focus, the way someone carried themselves when they’d caught wind of trouble. He’d followed that same pull a thousand times before. Sometimes it led to a job, sometimes to a fight, and sometimes just to disappointment. Either way, Nolan had never been the sort to ignore it.
Draining the last of his ale, he adjusted his cloak, feeling the weight of his sword at his hip, and followed her out the door.
The sunlight hit hard after the dim interior of the tavern, but he barely squinted as he stepped onto the street, his eyes immediately catching the scene unfolding ahead. The elf woman—thin, ragged, desperate—was pleading with a man who had no interest in listening.
*"Please!"*
She reached for the man’s arm, but he jerked away, his steps quickening.
*"I don't... I can't..."*
Her voice cracked, thick with frustration and tears.
Nolan didn't need to hear the rest. He recognized that kind of scene just fine. A man trying to walk away from something he'd rather not deal with. A woman left with nowhere else to turn.
Ceren had already started toward them, and Nolan fell in step beside her without a word, his stride easy, but his posture taut. He wasn’t the sort to run headlong into someone else’s problem, not anymore—but this one, he had a feeling, wasn’t something he could ignore.
And sure enough, the man glanced over his shoulder and saw them approaching. His face twisted—not in fear, but in frustration, as if the last thing he wanted was an audience. His pace quickened again.
His jaw tightened. He hated men like that. The kind who moved through the world thinking no one could hold them accountable.
Without another word, he changed his course slightly, cutting a path that would put him directly in the man’s way. If the bastard wanted to walk off, he’d have to go through Nolan first.
@Ceren Brynmor
Instinct.
He knew that look. That shift in focus, the way someone carried themselves when they’d caught wind of trouble. He’d followed that same pull a thousand times before. Sometimes it led to a job, sometimes to a fight, and sometimes just to disappointment. Either way, Nolan had never been the sort to ignore it.
Draining the last of his ale, he adjusted his cloak, feeling the weight of his sword at his hip, and followed her out the door.
The sunlight hit hard after the dim interior of the tavern, but he barely squinted as he stepped onto the street, his eyes immediately catching the scene unfolding ahead. The elf woman—thin, ragged, desperate—was pleading with a man who had no interest in listening.
*"Please!"*
She reached for the man’s arm, but he jerked away, his steps quickening.
*"I don't... I can't..."*
Her voice cracked, thick with frustration and tears.
Nolan didn't need to hear the rest. He recognized that kind of scene just fine. A man trying to walk away from something he'd rather not deal with. A woman left with nowhere else to turn.
Ceren had already started toward them, and Nolan fell in step beside her without a word, his stride easy, but his posture taut. He wasn’t the sort to run headlong into someone else’s problem, not anymore—but this one, he had a feeling, wasn’t something he could ignore.
And sure enough, the man glanced over his shoulder and saw them approaching. His face twisted—not in fear, but in frustration, as if the last thing he wanted was an audience. His pace quickened again.
You see the way he looked at us?Nolan muttered low to Ceren, barely moving his lips.
Man’s not scared. Just annoyed. That means he thinks we can’t do a damn thing to him.
His jaw tightened. He hated men like that. The kind who moved through the world thinking no one could hold them accountable.
Without another word, he changed his course slightly, cutting a path that would put him directly in the man’s way. If the bastard wanted to walk off, he’d have to go through Nolan first.
Something tells me he’s not gonna like that.
@Ceren Brynmor
Yesterday, 07:34 AM
