[color=Firebrick][u][img]https://i.imgur.com/tXSgU2F.png[/img[/img][/u][/COLOR][hr][COLOR=#C0C0C0]The Barn[/COLOR]
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The Aurelian noble was utterly taken aback by the the lady's sudden cut of her words; he had not seen them coming. Caught completely off guard, his smile abruptly vanished and a stunned, perplexed expression slapped itself across his face in its place as he instinctively took a small, stumbling step back.
 [i]'What had he done? What had he said wrong?'[/i]

His mind reeled, apology rising to his lips -until he caught sight of her clenched fists.
[i]‘A threat!?’[/i]
His gaze snapped back to her face, emotions warring across his own. Confusion remained, but pride surged to the forefront, drowning it out.
[i]‘Who was she to make demands of him—especially now?’[/i]

Perhaps if he wasn’t so tired, so hungry, so sore…

[color=Firebrick][b]"I beg your pardon!"[/b][/color] he lashed out, voice ringing with outraged dignity as he stepped forward, reclaiming lost ground.
[color=Firebrick][b]"Are all manners lost out here amongst the wilds of the south?"[/b][/color]
His words poured forth, driven by a defensive anger, sharper and hotter with every breath.
[color=Firebrick][b]"Have we all become barbarians?"[/b][/color]

He had been nothing but polite—or at least civil. And even if he hadn’t, etiquette still demanded a bare minimum of respect.
[i]‘Oh, how quickly one can fall from grace.’[/i] he thought.
He could not tolerate this. After all he had endured, to be standing here in a dirty barn before a stable hand who thought to tell him how he could—or could not—look at her.

Maybe if he hadn’t been trudging through snow and endless night for days, wrestling a stubborn pig.
Maybe if exhaustion from long travel, sleepless nights, and hard ground hadn’t gnawed at him.
Maybe if he weren’t haunted by the choices that forced him to abandon everything he had ever known—only to end up here, dishonoured in a stable.
Maybe if it had been a different day, a different time—then perhaps he might own a bit more patience, more empathy, more restraint.
But it was not a different day.

[color=Firebrick][b]"Or have you simply forgotten how to speak to nobility!? You may not [i]be one[/i] anymore, but that does not excuse you."[/b][/color]

He spat the words, his tone sharper, harsher—deliberately condescending. It was in the tilt of his chin, the stance of his body, the cold fire in his eyes. Every fibre of him dripped with a deliberate dismissive contempt for the lower class.

He knew he shouldn’t have reacted as he did, shouldn’t have spoken the words he spoke. It was unfair. Yet he could not regret them. Better to scorch the earth—burn away such blatant disrespect—than admit his own failings.

Stamping his staff upon the ground, he drew the last of its light into himself. Not to create heat, but to disperse it. All around the barn every flicker of warmth, every lamp, candle, and open flame soon faltered and died as they fell below the temperature needed to stay lit. All at once, near-pitch darkness swept the room.