Can’t Take the Heat? Get Outta the Oven. Except I Can’t Get Out of the Oven When the Oven is the Atmosphere
It would appear that she had struck a nerve. A very sensitive nerve.
Cheria yelped in pain as her arm slammed against the wall. His grip was monstrously strong and it hurt.“Ow! Th-that hurts! Let go!” Cheria screamed as she squirmed in his grip. It felt like her hand was going to break into little pieces if he gripped it any tighter. Cheria would have to retaliate with violence if she was going to get away. In her current position, there was no way she could use her knives effectively, but luckily she had magic in her arsenal.
”I said…let go! Infinity Wave!”
On command, sharp pulses of energy had propelled peacock man backwards, creating a safe (for the time being) distance between them. Breathing heavily and holding her crushed hand, she examined the situation hoping that she didn’t kill him. That wouldn’t work so well for negotiations either.
Zagi wasn’t entirely sure what had happened between him threatening hot shot and his abrupt and graceless crash to the ground, but it was enough to snap him back to a slightly more reasonable state.
A less crazed state, at the least, though he was thrice as pissed now.
Zagi was flat on his back, staring at the bright sun and stunned. A moment passed wherein he just stared, motionless. That passed fairly quickly though, and he sat up fast enough to make the world spin.
“What was that for?” Zagi demanded, whipping his head around until he caught sight of hot shot some feet away. “That ain’t cool, hot shot, people get hurt that way!”
Zagi didn’t stand yet; he sat crisscross and fixed the girl with a serrated glare. “See? Now all I gotta do is tell Boss you provoked me. Have fun digging outta this hole, kid.”
Zagi grinned, widely and less menacingly. He was downright smug, actually.
“You wanna do somethin’ about it?”
Assume something of my muse and they will confirm whether it is true or not.
“You got a problem with me, you punk?!”
“No, of course not. It’s not your fault you’re a serial killer.”
“Oh, nevermind. Yeah it is.”
“You got a problem with me, you punk?!”
“What, you want to go?”
“Think you can take me?”
“I heard you were picking on Cheria, so I figured I’d deal with you myself.”
“Who…?”
“…You talkin’ about hot shot?”
“Hey! She’s the one who threatened to tattle to Boss! That’s serious!”
“You got a problem with me, you punk?!”
“No, of course not. It’s not your fault you’re a serial killer.”
“Oh, nevermind. Yeah it is.”
“You got a problem with me, you punk?!”
“What, you want to go?”
“Think you can take me?”
Can’t Take the Heat? Get Outta the Oven. Except I Can’t Get Out of the Oven When the Oven is the Atmosphere
“Ah! Hey! Give that—”
She watched as the precious icy beverage drained into his throat. After all of that crap, he had the nerve to drink the drink she was offering him? If all guild members were like this punk, why was Windor even bothering sending the organization here in the first place?
“Un-believable!” Cheria shouted, stamping a foot on the ground. Oho, if Zagi thought he had heard enough then he had another thing coming.
She jabbed a finger into his chest and tried as best as she could to get into his face on he tip toes. “I’m the representative of the Windor Relief Organization and, I don’t know if your boss told you, but we’re currently undergoing negotiations. I don’t think your boss would be too pleased if your guild was the only guild that is ineligible for aid because one of their members screwed it up by being a big jerk!”
At that, she crossed her arms and huffed. Honestly, Cheria wasn’t cruel enough to do such a thing. If anything, it was her emotions and the heat talking, but bug brain didn’t need to know that.
Zagi froze the second hot shot poked him in the chest. He saw red, and it wasn’t because he suddenly had an eyeful of the top of the girl’s head. Invading his space was one thing — he had no issues getting in people’s faces, but he couldn’t recall many instances where someone had fought back.
But telling Boss?
Zagi viciously snatched the hand away from his chest, gripping hard enough to bruise, and pinned her arm above her head against the wall. Zagi let the bottle drop from his free hand; it chipped on impact, bounced, and rolled a few feet away.
“Don’t think I heard you right,” Zagi said. His words were sharp, as was his grin and his grip; he was all edges, like the glass chips at his feet.
“If you think you’re gonna bring Boss into this, you got another thing coming. Tattling ain’t nice, you know. Got anything to say for yourself?”
Zagi squeezed her arm for emphasis, quite certain she wasn’t going to be running away any time soon.
Can’t Take the Heat? Get Outta the Oven. Except I Can’t Get Out of the Oven When the Oven is the Atmosphere
“Um…”
Before she knew it, the man was towering over her, and her back was against a wall. He was rather close to her. So close in fact, that she could smell all that sweat that wasn’t wiped away by his forearm. Her eye twitched.
The combination of this guy’s crappy ‘tude and the searing hot rays of the sun had worn down her patience quite a bit. No amount of motherly love could ever hope to keep Cheria’s irritation at bay.
That was it. No more Ms. Nice Cheria.
“What in the world is your problem?” Cheria snapped. “I was just offering you a drink! If you didn’t want it you could have just said so! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got more important things to do than deal with jerks like you!”
Pedestrians who were walking by began to stop and stare with mixed looks of surprise and pity. It didn’t occur to Cheria that she could be talking to one of the most dangerous residents of Dahngrest who was infamous for killing for enjoyment.
The angry healer attempted to slip under his arm and take the drink she so kindly offered with her.
Her words were just sorta turning into an annoying white-noise buzz. Man, could this girl run her mouth. She was nearly as bad as Boss. Zagi considered that something of an achievement — a really horrible achievement, but one nonetheless. If nothing else, little hot shot was playing right into his set up.
In five…four…three…
Zagi lowered his arm to stall her and snatched the drink straight out of her hand. The bottle was slick with condensation, and he narrowly avoided dropping it. He fumbled with it slightly, his weaker right arm just managing to keep its grip. Granted, letting the drink shatter would surely get even more of a rise out of the girl, but he was thirsty.
“Who said I never wanted this?” Zagi said, popping the top off and tipping the drink to his lips. He gulped down nearly half of it, savoring the icy bite of the liquid.
“Only thing I ever said was that I wanted you outta my sight, hot shot.”
dood
zagi and cheria new otp look out guys
Redheads and knives.
“Where is that music coming from?”
“What the — you mean you’re not the one playing it?”
“Who’s idea was this?!”
dood
zagi and cheria new otp look out guys
Redheads and knives.
Can’t Take the Heat? Get Outta the Oven. Except I Can’t Get Out of the Oven When the Oven is the Atmosphere
“E-excuse me?”
Did…he just tell her to leave? Cheria was mature enough to realize that not all good deeds warrant a ‘thank you’, but this…was just rude. Everything from the quirk in his eyebrows to the tone in his voice just spelled out J-E-R-K. Perhaps it was a custom around Dahngrest to be as abrasive to every stranger as possible.
…though, custom or not, if she wasn’t so kind, knives would have been thrown.
“C-come on,” Cheria said, moving the drink a little closer to him. It was going to take a lot more than that to deter her from—well—being herself. “I’ve got a few drinks in here for myself. You don’t have to worry about me. I know you really want this ice-cold drink.”
Zagi fixed her with a flat stare. He let out the heaviest, most exasperated sigh he could muster and held her gaze, waiting for her to back down.
“Pretty sure I told you to beat it.”
She had nerve. Lots of it. Enough to get her in trouble — and Zagi was no stranger to trouble. He thrived off tossing matches into haystacks and watching the world burn.
And the girl was about to that find out.
“Listen up, hot shot.” Zagi straightened up to his full height and sidled right up to the girl, leaning one hand on the wall above her head and staring down at her. “Any sane person’d know when to throw in the towel. You stubborn or just stupid? Does it look like I was kiddin’ around when I told you to scram?”
And at this angle, he had the perfect opportunity to snatch the drink right out of her hand. He wouldn’t do it yet, though, no sense in letting her feel like she was winning.
Ask my muse painfully personal questions
Can’t Take the Heat? Get Outta the Oven. Except I Can’t Get Out of the Oven When the Oven is the Atmosphere
Cheria had an extreme distaste for humid weather.
Not only was it just uncomfortable, but the feeling of sweat sticking to her skin was utterly disgusting and it made her hair look like she stuck a fork in an electric socket and held on for as long as she could.
She bit down on her lower lip as she had exited the item shop for a few beverages to bring back to the inn, the journey was going to be a long and painful one and the destination wasn’t so appealing either.
There was a massive amount of paperwork that needed to be filled out before her meeting with Altosk concerning the expansion of the relief organization and there was no way she was going to get through it all without having an ice cold soda on the table.
Cheria took the ice cold bottle, which had cool water on the exterior due to condensation, and wiped it across her forehead. Time to leave the safety of the shade and combat this agonizing weather.
Right when she took her first step, Cheria noticed a man who looked like he had been suffering just as much as she had, if not more, due to the heat. His hair was an assortment of…interesting colors and his outfit matched perfectly (what people wouldn’t do for fashion!). Her motherly instincts taking over, Cheria approached the peacock-resembling man and held out a drink to him.
“Here,” she chirped. “You look like you could use this.”
Zagi grit his teeth. The girl was approaching. She should be running away from him, not towards him. She should definitely not be waltzing up to him — the entire population of Dahngrest knew to avoid Zagi, and last he’d checked, newcomers were very quickly informed.
That, and ever since the latest and greatest incident in the town square with Lowell and his hotheaded knight friend, it had been all boss could do to keep ‘wanted’ posters off the walls. He was proud of that little achievement.
A growling sigh crawled past Zagi’s lips. The girl, dripping with sweat just as he was, stood before him with a cool drink in hand. The drink made him pause; he hated dealing with people, sure, but that ice-cold bottle looked far too appealing for its own good.
But Zagi hated pity, no matter what form it took.
“Get lost,” he said. “Somethin’ wrong with the way I look?” He swiped his sleeve across his forehead again, cringing when the fabric came away half-saturated.
“You’re not lookin’ too great either, kid. You get sunburned just walking out here?”
Zagi’s gaze flickered across the girl’s face, noting ruddy red cheeks and the thin gild of sweat. Her hair was just as vibrant, and, he noticed, a shade of red bright enough to rival his own. How ‘bout that.
“You’d better haul out before you pass out.”
And if he happened to snag her cold drink and run as she made her exit, he would consider it an accomplishment. Zagi’s eyes were fixed on her hand, ready to strike the second she realized she was in over her head and needed to get the hell outta dodge.
Based on My RPing guess my age.
“Hey, new face.”
“You sure you wanna play?”
((Maybeweshoulddefinitelyfiguresomethingout :DD))
