"I don't forgive anything," Kat said with an eyebrow raised. Lifting her mug again to take another swig, she continued, "And I don't do backstory. Adds to the mystique, don't ya think?" She placed her mug back on the table and drew lazy circles around the rim with her finger. "But for you lot I guess I'll make a special concession: I was born, presumably to two parents, lost my arm, and ended up here." Her eyes flicked back up to Ernst and she smirked. Reaching into her bag, Kat pulled out an apple she'd… acquired, and took a bite. "Not much else to me."
Her smile grew as she thought about Hel still lurking in the forest. "You pick out a nice, calm horse like I said?"
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unending foolery
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i like to rp. that's really all there is to say.
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I have no idea where Kat falls on that scale because she's both a street urchin and has adopted Hel's "holier than thou" demeanor
Kat debated her options as she looked down at the proffered drink. On the one hand, screw him. On the other, she was gonna have to deal with him one way or another, and praying he got killed fairly early into the expedition wasn't the most reliable way to get things done. Rolling her eyes, she tossed her bag back onto the table and dropped into the seat she'd recently vacated, kicking her feet up onto an adjacent chair. She took the mug from his hand and took a long swig.
Gods, beer was disgusting, but at least it made the world less annoying.
Placing the mug back onto the table, she gave beggar boy a long look. "Kat," she finally said. "And if I look like a black, maimed monk, it's more interesting than whatever you're supposed to be," she commented, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a smirk. She still hated his guts, but she could play nice if need be. "At least I have stories to tell that don't revolve around how difficult last season's harvest was or the wolf that managed to get into the chickens."
Gods, beer was disgusting, but at least it made the world less annoying.
Placing the mug back onto the table, she gave beggar boy a long look. "Kat," she finally said. "And if I look like a black, maimed monk, it's more interesting than whatever you're supposed to be," she commented, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a smirk. She still hated his guts, but she could play nice if need be. "At least I have stories to tell that don't revolve around how difficult last season's harvest was or the wolf that managed to get into the chickens."
For the record, when she's counting things off on her hand, Kat uses her middle finger for number two.
Kat stopped at his words, and eventually settled on turning around to face him again, her face a flat stare. Swinging her bag over her shoulder to free her hand, she lifted up a finger. "One, whatever reasons I had to refuse the room are my own, two, it's not that difficult to think myself above someone like you, and three, are you really questioning my decision to not break bread with someone who just called me a 'black, maimed fool'?" Kat shook her head, frustration leaking out of her.
"For someone who seems to prioritize courtesy, you're pretty shit at it yourself."
"For someone who seems to prioritize courtesy, you're pretty shit at it yourself."
Wow these two hate each other. Excellent.
Kat froze at his words. Her face tilted to him the slightest bit so she could see him out of the corner of her eye and she sat in deadly silence.
"Not such a fool if I managed to walk away from this," she said with a nod to her bare shoulder, voice low. "Want to see what living without an arm's like? A rugged gentleman archer like you, I'm sure it'd be nothing. I bet you won't even pass out from the pain." Her voice was precise and heavy with promises of things to come if he dared open his mouth again.
Gods above, she couldn't wait for the idiot sitting beside her to meet Hel. She hoped he soiled himself. Or better yet, that Hel ate him.
She scoffed, and pushed herself up from the table, grabbing her bag again. "Have fun stuffing your face."
"Not such a fool if I managed to walk away from this," she said with a nod to her bare shoulder, voice low. "Want to see what living without an arm's like? A rugged gentleman archer like you, I'm sure it'd be nothing. I bet you won't even pass out from the pain." Her voice was precise and heavy with promises of things to come if he dared open his mouth again.
Gods above, she couldn't wait for the idiot sitting beside her to meet Hel. She hoped he soiled himself. Or better yet, that Hel ate him.
She scoffed, and pushed herself up from the table, grabbing her bag again. "Have fun stuffing your face."
Or she's just a bitch. Which is completely plausible.
Kat pushed the door open and strolled in just in time to hear Ernst's boasting and crude comments to the tavern keep and she rolled her eyes. Not that she minded crude, but honestly, how was she to put up with this lot in the coming weeks?
"Is your sister as much of a catch as you are?" she asked as she dropped herself into one of the remaining chairs. "If so, you might have to pay him for it." Plopping her bag on the table – it was heavier than it'd been that morning, but the number of silver coins in Kat's pocket remained the same – she sat at an angle, resting her arm on the back of the chair. Kat turned to the mysterious cloaked man. His name was Vidic, apparently.
She was silent as she looked him up and down. No, this one wasn't a priest. His eyes were too dead, and the way he carried himself was too fluid to be anything but predatory. Eyes never leaving Vidic's, Kat said, "If this one's a priest, then I'm right-handed." She tilted her head to the side, continuing, "No, if anyone's soul needs saving, it's your's, isn't it?"
"Is your sister as much of a catch as you are?" she asked as she dropped herself into one of the remaining chairs. "If so, you might have to pay him for it." Plopping her bag on the table – it was heavier than it'd been that morning, but the number of silver coins in Kat's pocket remained the same – she sat at an angle, resting her arm on the back of the chair. Kat turned to the mysterious cloaked man. His name was Vidic, apparently.
She was silent as she looked him up and down. No, this one wasn't a priest. His eyes were too dead, and the way he carried himself was too fluid to be anything but predatory. Eyes never leaving Vidic's, Kat said, "If this one's a priest, then I'm right-handed." She tilted her head to the side, continuing, "No, if anyone's soul needs saving, it's your's, isn't it?"
Aya tried not to take a step back when he dropped from the tree – really, she did, but the sight of him face-to-face made her legs move on their own. Steeling herself, she refused to let her feet move anymore. If she could deal with Prof. McCoy or Prof. Logan, then she could face this boy.
Looking into his golden eyes, she managed a tiny smile. "It's ok," she said, working out his meaning easily enough. She still couldn't figure out his accent (European?) but he seemed nice enough, and just as uncertain as she was. "Have you seen the mansion yet?" Aya asked, assuming he hadn't. The hair covering his skin was dirty and she could see a few leaves poking out here and there. "Would you…" she started, still trying to work up the nerve to form coherent sentences, "I mean, we can go inside together, if you'd like."
Looking into his golden eyes, she managed a tiny smile. "It's ok," she said, working out his meaning easily enough. She still couldn't figure out his accent (European?) but he seemed nice enough, and just as uncertain as she was. "Have you seen the mansion yet?" Aya asked, assuming he hadn't. The hair covering his skin was dirty and she could see a few leaves poking out here and there. "Would you…" she started, still trying to work up the nerve to form coherent sentences, "I mean, we can go inside together, if you'd like."
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