She slouches over the bar, until her chest rest upon it. Elbows dig into the warped wood as her fingers cup her chin. She stares though the pipe smoke that hangs in the air. Eyes drift over the room, her mind and body beginning to tired of the same actions over and over. This land is so peaceful, at first she welcomed it, sat by the fire and got covered in charcoal dust, but she can not hide what she is. She has to change some to fit in here, and that is a welcome change, but this? One of her hands move down and slaps the bar top. No one in the room even flinches, she lets out a sigh and ponders how much of this she can take. Seeing as Sionnach would not want to spar anymore she would have to find someone else to do it with. Her muscle feel tired and unused. Energy builds up in her body that hunting and practicing just could not work away. Which is making her think, and no good ever happens from that activity. So she watches the people in the tavern, doing the same things they always did.
Pulling her hand up from the wood and placing a finger in her mouth she starts to let her mind wonder. Almost immediately Sionnach figure laying face down on the ground comes into focus in her mind. She takes small breaths and it would seem she was thinking about what to wear that evening, but really her blood was moving over her body, making it slightly warmer. She can hear her handlers voice in her head, speaking in their tongue. His command to finish the down enemy was clear, and she always acted upon such things. There was never two people walking away from such activities in her world. She was the ultimate put down. Being killed by a women, there was nothing worse in her world. You would not move on to the after life, not be allowed to lay with your family. She feels her body flinch towards Sionnach, how she could see herself rushing him. She stopped it though, that had to mean something right?
She did not feel satisfied when she walked away from the pit that night. She had told herself it was because she had performed a move that should not have been done in a spar but really, it was because she did not finish her job. She had to work that temptation out of her soul, it would not work here. Not with a normal life. She was sure if she wanted to carry on her past she could find something similar. She just has to stomp out the natural instinct she had developed, and hope no one came across her that knew the language.
The regulars are re-live their war stories as she circles their table. She normal loves to catch their words floating around the air and add her thoughts but today she makes the movement with out really thinking of it. Her mind is else it seems, though she does give them a little bump with her hip and a smile, asking if they would like another pitcher. Every once in a while she has to walk over and place a firm head on one of their shoulders to calm their old hearts. Flashing a smile and some calm words normal takes their mind in a different direction and she takes a swat on the bottom as she wiggles it away. Today they where calm, it seems the life has been sucked out of everything today. Mind left alone to wonder over places they should stay away from. Moving towards the bar she moves to refill the pitcher, such a task does not need much thought. Her mind slips, she is back under the raging sun.
Her red hair is whipping her skin in the wind. Sand hits her almost bare skin as a man runs towards her, they had been at this for sometime. Chest heaving as his blade is lifted into the air. The small amount of fabric the binds her chest makes it had to fill her lunges. Her bight blue eyes tainted with intoxicated smoke narrow on his leg, not protected as both arms are on the handle of his axe. A simple task. She feels the air move out of the way from the ax, she simple fall to the ground and sweep his legs out from under him, he falls and the earth shake with his weight. She does not take in the details of this form, just another interruption in her other task, one that would lessen her high. He squirms on the ground, it seems when he feel the axe landed into his upper left shoulder. Jumping upon him she rams her fingers between his legs and digs her long nails into his manhood. She then pulls back with her elbow and blood begins to move from his form. She lets out a scream to mingle with his pain soaked on. Standing up she circles the body. The word sounded out from her handlers mouth, shouting it at the top of his lungs. By now his tribe was ashamed and also chanting with hers. Her hands grasped his axes, how she loved two handed weapons, though her high she could feel the weight she hand to lift. She pulls it out of his flesh, it was quick. He raised his arm to stop her, but she was better with his weapon then he was. Leaving it in his body she turned to her handler. Walking over in a daze, coming down off of her high. He lights a pipe and hands it to her. She took the smoke in, holding it into her lungs, welcoming the burn as it moved down her lungs. As she walked away, blood running down her skin the smoke would slips from her lips. The yells around her fade, and turn to the sounds of the Hammer, and one of the old men yelling at her to hurry up with their Ale.
Bring her hands up into the air she waves away the smoke that is curling around her face in the tavern. Her fingers move to the back of her neck as she pulls them over her red waves. Walking from behind the bar, she turns her back on the memory that is fading from her mind and she brings the pitchers over to the table. She moves around the table and tops off their glasses, receiving toothless grins she pulls a chair from near by and sits down them with. Their tales get a little bigger now with a set of female ears listening. Arms move around a bit more, thuds on the table are implied with more force. She leans back in her chair and smirks at them......
((I know there is a tons of grammar and spelling mistakes, could not get a hold of my muse lmao....))
