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It was a simple task. She was to go down to the market and return with the cloth that was required to repair one of the tents and the new juggling knife balanced to perfection. However a mishap at the smithy delayed Kesi, and as the day had turned to night she found herself with one juggling knife and no cloth. Typically that would be no problem. Kesi could wake up early in the morning and pick up the cloth. However, one thing her brother had said had put the young girl on edge. See me once you’re done. What did that mean? If the task was not complete, was she not to return? Would he be angry that she had only done half the tasks he sent her out for? Would he be disappointed?
No, this would not do. Kesi would remain out all night and when the market opened in the morning she would be there first thing. She would pick up the cloth and return to the circus. Her brother shouldn’t be disappointed then. She did what he said to the letter. Kesi was nothing if not obedient.
The girl wandered Cairo aimlessly. She should find somewhere to sleep. Kesi was horribly cranky if she did not get proper sleep. It took a few hours of wandering before Kesi found an area. Located between the seedier part of the city, where most of the taverns and brothels were, and the docks lie this small ally. She looked up and down it and found that it led to a dead end. She sat on the floor, back against the wall, and near the one entrance to this ally should she need to make a quick escape. Her head leaned against the wall, and her eyes fluttered shut. The knife she had gotten previously was tight against her chest as if it was a blanket covering her. Sleep found her, and Kesi drifted off to a peaceful land.
But peace and Kesi were two entities that did not find themselves together for long. A sound pierced Kesi’s consciousness. Was that a giggle perhaps? Words? At first she attempted to ignore it. Her mind fought with the outside environment to stay asleep. But it continued, and her eyes flew open with utter annoyance. “Oh, will you shut u- Oops.” As she spoke the throwing knife she had collected flew from her hand.
Through the air it flew, slicing through the night and lodging it’s self into a woman’s leg. Kesi blinked amazed that she had thrown a knife and managed to hit a target. She should take lessons from the knife jugglers, honestly. That was satisfying.
But then panic set in. Oh, no. She needed that knife. The cloth could be bought the next day, but the knife was custom made. Quickly she got to her feet. “Whoops. That wasn’t a pillow.” She said, approaching the woman and man. Her eyes barely glanced at the person she was with, only focused in on the knife in her leg. “I’m going to need that back. Do you, uh, need a… moment? Or can I just take it out?” She asked as she was already reaching for the hilt, showing no concern over the pain she must be in, nor will be in once she pulled it out. Kesi was just impatient, and more than a little annoyed over the inconvenience of having to clean her newly bought knife.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was a simple task. She was to go down to the market and return with the cloth that was required to repair one of the tents and the new juggling knife balanced to perfection. However a mishap at the smithy delayed Kesi, and as the day had turned to night she found herself with one juggling knife and no cloth. Typically that would be no problem. Kesi could wake up early in the morning and pick up the cloth. However, one thing her brother had said had put the young girl on edge. See me once you’re done. What did that mean? If the task was not complete, was she not to return? Would he be angry that she had only done half the tasks he sent her out for? Would he be disappointed?
No, this would not do. Kesi would remain out all night and when the market opened in the morning she would be there first thing. She would pick up the cloth and return to the circus. Her brother shouldn’t be disappointed then. She did what he said to the letter. Kesi was nothing if not obedient.
The girl wandered Cairo aimlessly. She should find somewhere to sleep. Kesi was horribly cranky if she did not get proper sleep. It took a few hours of wandering before Kesi found an area. Located between the seedier part of the city, where most of the taverns and brothels were, and the docks lie this small ally. She looked up and down it and found that it led to a dead end. She sat on the floor, back against the wall, and near the one entrance to this ally should she need to make a quick escape. Her head leaned against the wall, and her eyes fluttered shut. The knife she had gotten previously was tight against her chest as if it was a blanket covering her. Sleep found her, and Kesi drifted off to a peaceful land.
But peace and Kesi were two entities that did not find themselves together for long. A sound pierced Kesi’s consciousness. Was that a giggle perhaps? Words? At first she attempted to ignore it. Her mind fought with the outside environment to stay asleep. But it continued, and her eyes flew open with utter annoyance. “Oh, will you shut u- Oops.” As she spoke the throwing knife she had collected flew from her hand.
Through the air it flew, slicing through the night and lodging it’s self into a woman’s leg. Kesi blinked amazed that she had thrown a knife and managed to hit a target. She should take lessons from the knife jugglers, honestly. That was satisfying.
But then panic set in. Oh, no. She needed that knife. The cloth could be bought the next day, but the knife was custom made. Quickly she got to her feet. “Whoops. That wasn’t a pillow.” She said, approaching the woman and man. Her eyes barely glanced at the person she was with, only focused in on the knife in her leg. “I’m going to need that back. Do you, uh, need a… moment? Or can I just take it out?” She asked as she was already reaching for the hilt, showing no concern over the pain she must be in, nor will be in once she pulled it out. Kesi was just impatient, and more than a little annoyed over the inconvenience of having to clean her newly bought knife.
It was a simple task. She was to go down to the market and return with the cloth that was required to repair one of the tents and the new juggling knife balanced to perfection. However a mishap at the smithy delayed Kesi, and as the day had turned to night she found herself with one juggling knife and no cloth. Typically that would be no problem. Kesi could wake up early in the morning and pick up the cloth. However, one thing her brother had said had put the young girl on edge. See me once you’re done. What did that mean? If the task was not complete, was she not to return? Would he be angry that she had only done half the tasks he sent her out for? Would he be disappointed?
No, this would not do. Kesi would remain out all night and when the market opened in the morning she would be there first thing. She would pick up the cloth and return to the circus. Her brother shouldn’t be disappointed then. She did what he said to the letter. Kesi was nothing if not obedient.
The girl wandered Cairo aimlessly. She should find somewhere to sleep. Kesi was horribly cranky if she did not get proper sleep. It took a few hours of wandering before Kesi found an area. Located between the seedier part of the city, where most of the taverns and brothels were, and the docks lie this small ally. She looked up and down it and found that it led to a dead end. She sat on the floor, back against the wall, and near the one entrance to this ally should she need to make a quick escape. Her head leaned against the wall, and her eyes fluttered shut. The knife she had gotten previously was tight against her chest as if it was a blanket covering her. Sleep found her, and Kesi drifted off to a peaceful land.
But peace and Kesi were two entities that did not find themselves together for long. A sound pierced Kesi’s consciousness. Was that a giggle perhaps? Words? At first she attempted to ignore it. Her mind fought with the outside environment to stay asleep. But it continued, and her eyes flew open with utter annoyance. “Oh, will you shut u- Oops.” As she spoke the throwing knife she had collected flew from her hand.
Through the air it flew, slicing through the night and lodging it’s self into a woman’s leg. Kesi blinked amazed that she had thrown a knife and managed to hit a target. She should take lessons from the knife jugglers, honestly. That was satisfying.
But then panic set in. Oh, no. She needed that knife. The cloth could be bought the next day, but the knife was custom made. Quickly she got to her feet. “Whoops. That wasn’t a pillow.” She said, approaching the woman and man. Her eyes barely glanced at the person she was with, only focused in on the knife in her leg. “I’m going to need that back. Do you, uh, need a… moment? Or can I just take it out?” She asked as she was already reaching for the hilt, showing no concern over the pain she must be in, nor will be in once she pulled it out. Kesi was just impatient, and more than a little annoyed over the inconvenience of having to clean her newly bought knife.
The day’s wares sold and the money distributed amongst his crew for them to do as they pleased, Lukos was free to do as he liked. While there was work to be done, he did not touch alcohol and didn’t bother with whores, but once all that was finished? Lukos liked to play as much as anyone. He’d followed his massive first mate to a brothel that doubled as a gambling house and took a liking to the first girl that happened to pass the table. Planting Deshra on his lap for the entirety of his time at the gaming tables, Lukos hadn’t been parted from the whore for hours. Like all sailors, he took omens where he found them and with the redhead sitting with him, his arm around her waist, he hadn’t lost a single game but one. That one was inconsequential, even. The pot had been small and he was already drunk at the time.
By midnight, she’d lured him upstairs to part him from more of his money and he’d gladly handed quite a bit of it over. But even drunk, Lukos was not an idiot. He did not sleep next to her and by the time they were done, lying in a heap of limbs and bruises, Lukos happily running his fingers through her interesting hair, he was ready for some other mischief. The captain’s favorite thing about whores was that they were the best companions money could buy. They did not seem to care what a man wanted to do so long as he paid and Deshra was no different.
“Come on,” he’d slurred at her, pulling her from the bed. The two of them had dressed and were back downstairs by the time the moon was well past its zenith. The darkest part of night was upon them and Lukos was sobering up. A pouch of water at his hip, he took swigs of it every now and then and passed it to Deshra, around whose waist his arm remained. He liked his things close.
They meandered down the paths of Cairo towards the edge of the souk on this end. Their conversation, though quiet, bounced between the stone walls of the buildings they passed between. The lump of Kesi’s body was visible but Lukos paid it zero attention. He already had a whore to play with. A homeless woman held no allure whatsoever but he had just slid behind Deshra, his arms around her middle just under her breasts, his lips against her ear, and was whispering a slapdash plan to mess with the sleeping woman, when the night tilted sideways.
The body rose, a glint of metal flashed, and Lukos braced to remain standing as the impact of the knife in Deshra’s leg forced the two of them momentarily backwards a step. Kesi was up by then but Lukos was already around Deshra, sword drawn and pointed at Kesi.
“Don’t take another fucking step,” he snarled, thoroughly irritated with all of his plans being ruined by this homeless dimwit. Whatever Kesi wanted, he wasn’t about to let her have. When she reached for the knife, Lukos flicked the sword’s tip in that direction, perfectly willing to slash her hand open if she was idiot enough to keep it close to the whore’s leg. For the moment, so far as Lukos was concerned, she was his property. No one touched his stuff.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The day’s wares sold and the money distributed amongst his crew for them to do as they pleased, Lukos was free to do as he liked. While there was work to be done, he did not touch alcohol and didn’t bother with whores, but once all that was finished? Lukos liked to play as much as anyone. He’d followed his massive first mate to a brothel that doubled as a gambling house and took a liking to the first girl that happened to pass the table. Planting Deshra on his lap for the entirety of his time at the gaming tables, Lukos hadn’t been parted from the whore for hours. Like all sailors, he took omens where he found them and with the redhead sitting with him, his arm around her waist, he hadn’t lost a single game but one. That one was inconsequential, even. The pot had been small and he was already drunk at the time.
By midnight, she’d lured him upstairs to part him from more of his money and he’d gladly handed quite a bit of it over. But even drunk, Lukos was not an idiot. He did not sleep next to her and by the time they were done, lying in a heap of limbs and bruises, Lukos happily running his fingers through her interesting hair, he was ready for some other mischief. The captain’s favorite thing about whores was that they were the best companions money could buy. They did not seem to care what a man wanted to do so long as he paid and Deshra was no different.
“Come on,” he’d slurred at her, pulling her from the bed. The two of them had dressed and were back downstairs by the time the moon was well past its zenith. The darkest part of night was upon them and Lukos was sobering up. A pouch of water at his hip, he took swigs of it every now and then and passed it to Deshra, around whose waist his arm remained. He liked his things close.
They meandered down the paths of Cairo towards the edge of the souk on this end. Their conversation, though quiet, bounced between the stone walls of the buildings they passed between. The lump of Kesi’s body was visible but Lukos paid it zero attention. He already had a whore to play with. A homeless woman held no allure whatsoever but he had just slid behind Deshra, his arms around her middle just under her breasts, his lips against her ear, and was whispering a slapdash plan to mess with the sleeping woman, when the night tilted sideways.
The body rose, a glint of metal flashed, and Lukos braced to remain standing as the impact of the knife in Deshra’s leg forced the two of them momentarily backwards a step. Kesi was up by then but Lukos was already around Deshra, sword drawn and pointed at Kesi.
“Don’t take another fucking step,” he snarled, thoroughly irritated with all of his plans being ruined by this homeless dimwit. Whatever Kesi wanted, he wasn’t about to let her have. When she reached for the knife, Lukos flicked the sword’s tip in that direction, perfectly willing to slash her hand open if she was idiot enough to keep it close to the whore’s leg. For the moment, so far as Lukos was concerned, she was his property. No one touched his stuff.
The day’s wares sold and the money distributed amongst his crew for them to do as they pleased, Lukos was free to do as he liked. While there was work to be done, he did not touch alcohol and didn’t bother with whores, but once all that was finished? Lukos liked to play as much as anyone. He’d followed his massive first mate to a brothel that doubled as a gambling house and took a liking to the first girl that happened to pass the table. Planting Deshra on his lap for the entirety of his time at the gaming tables, Lukos hadn’t been parted from the whore for hours. Like all sailors, he took omens where he found them and with the redhead sitting with him, his arm around her waist, he hadn’t lost a single game but one. That one was inconsequential, even. The pot had been small and he was already drunk at the time.
By midnight, she’d lured him upstairs to part him from more of his money and he’d gladly handed quite a bit of it over. But even drunk, Lukos was not an idiot. He did not sleep next to her and by the time they were done, lying in a heap of limbs and bruises, Lukos happily running his fingers through her interesting hair, he was ready for some other mischief. The captain’s favorite thing about whores was that they were the best companions money could buy. They did not seem to care what a man wanted to do so long as he paid and Deshra was no different.
“Come on,” he’d slurred at her, pulling her from the bed. The two of them had dressed and were back downstairs by the time the moon was well past its zenith. The darkest part of night was upon them and Lukos was sobering up. A pouch of water at his hip, he took swigs of it every now and then and passed it to Deshra, around whose waist his arm remained. He liked his things close.
They meandered down the paths of Cairo towards the edge of the souk on this end. Their conversation, though quiet, bounced between the stone walls of the buildings they passed between. The lump of Kesi’s body was visible but Lukos paid it zero attention. He already had a whore to play with. A homeless woman held no allure whatsoever but he had just slid behind Deshra, his arms around her middle just under her breasts, his lips against her ear, and was whispering a slapdash plan to mess with the sleeping woman, when the night tilted sideways.
The body rose, a glint of metal flashed, and Lukos braced to remain standing as the impact of the knife in Deshra’s leg forced the two of them momentarily backwards a step. Kesi was up by then but Lukos was already around Deshra, sword drawn and pointed at Kesi.
“Don’t take another fucking step,” he snarled, thoroughly irritated with all of his plans being ruined by this homeless dimwit. Whatever Kesi wanted, he wasn’t about to let her have. When she reached for the knife, Lukos flicked the sword’s tip in that direction, perfectly willing to slash her hand open if she was idiot enough to keep it close to the whore’s leg. For the moment, so far as Lukos was concerned, she was his property. No one touched his stuff.
For Deshra, it had been a typical evening of life in a brothel. While she had initially been a bit skeptical that the night would go so well when she initially caught the eye of the Greek, it had proven an interesting night indeed. She was always intrigued by those customers who had interesting tastes, and he had not been a disappointment. And yet, even when she thought they might be done, he still wanted to take her out somewhere. Deshra didn’t mind, she always enjoyed something that broke up the normal monotony. Besides, no matter what, he was paying.
That was how Deshra found herself wandering through the streets of Cairo in the middle of the night with this Greek pirate. He had just been suggesting how they might mess with a random woman asleep on the ground near them when suddenly the woman moved. There was a flash of metal and a sudden rush of pain up her leg.
Deshra wasn’t one for quick reactions, the sudden sting almost seeming to cause everything within her mind to freeze everything to a crawl. She looked down at her leg, almost confused to see a knife sticking out of it. It was such a weird thing to see. Then suddenly there was this woman in her face demanding her knife back. The knife that was in her leg. As if it was just some sort of especially weird place she had left it. Deshra was almost relieved when Lukos came to her defense. She had no desire to find herself in trouble for smacking this woman who had gotten too close to her when she was in pain. Now she had a moment to compose herself before she responded.
Deshra smirked at the woman. It was her nature not to show any weakness unless it could be used to her advantage. Given how little the woman seemed to care that she now had a knife sticking out of her leg, Deshra wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. She removed the knife from her own leg without flinching. “Oh, you mean this? Perhaps you shouldn’t misplace things that are important to you.” Deshra would never have been so bold without Lukos’s sword backing her up. Not to mention the stinging in her leg had brought a level of sarcasm she would normally have held more under control. She could only hope that the woman wouldn’t take too much offense to her comments, or even if she did that this man she had known for all of an evening would be willing to back them up.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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For Deshra, it had been a typical evening of life in a brothel. While she had initially been a bit skeptical that the night would go so well when she initially caught the eye of the Greek, it had proven an interesting night indeed. She was always intrigued by those customers who had interesting tastes, and he had not been a disappointment. And yet, even when she thought they might be done, he still wanted to take her out somewhere. Deshra didn’t mind, she always enjoyed something that broke up the normal monotony. Besides, no matter what, he was paying.
That was how Deshra found herself wandering through the streets of Cairo in the middle of the night with this Greek pirate. He had just been suggesting how they might mess with a random woman asleep on the ground near them when suddenly the woman moved. There was a flash of metal and a sudden rush of pain up her leg.
Deshra wasn’t one for quick reactions, the sudden sting almost seeming to cause everything within her mind to freeze everything to a crawl. She looked down at her leg, almost confused to see a knife sticking out of it. It was such a weird thing to see. Then suddenly there was this woman in her face demanding her knife back. The knife that was in her leg. As if it was just some sort of especially weird place she had left it. Deshra was almost relieved when Lukos came to her defense. She had no desire to find herself in trouble for smacking this woman who had gotten too close to her when she was in pain. Now she had a moment to compose herself before she responded.
Deshra smirked at the woman. It was her nature not to show any weakness unless it could be used to her advantage. Given how little the woman seemed to care that she now had a knife sticking out of her leg, Deshra wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. She removed the knife from her own leg without flinching. “Oh, you mean this? Perhaps you shouldn’t misplace things that are important to you.” Deshra would never have been so bold without Lukos’s sword backing her up. Not to mention the stinging in her leg had brought a level of sarcasm she would normally have held more under control. She could only hope that the woman wouldn’t take too much offense to her comments, or even if she did that this man she had known for all of an evening would be willing to back them up.
For Deshra, it had been a typical evening of life in a brothel. While she had initially been a bit skeptical that the night would go so well when she initially caught the eye of the Greek, it had proven an interesting night indeed. She was always intrigued by those customers who had interesting tastes, and he had not been a disappointment. And yet, even when she thought they might be done, he still wanted to take her out somewhere. Deshra didn’t mind, she always enjoyed something that broke up the normal monotony. Besides, no matter what, he was paying.
That was how Deshra found herself wandering through the streets of Cairo in the middle of the night with this Greek pirate. He had just been suggesting how they might mess with a random woman asleep on the ground near them when suddenly the woman moved. There was a flash of metal and a sudden rush of pain up her leg.
Deshra wasn’t one for quick reactions, the sudden sting almost seeming to cause everything within her mind to freeze everything to a crawl. She looked down at her leg, almost confused to see a knife sticking out of it. It was such a weird thing to see. Then suddenly there was this woman in her face demanding her knife back. The knife that was in her leg. As if it was just some sort of especially weird place she had left it. Deshra was almost relieved when Lukos came to her defense. She had no desire to find herself in trouble for smacking this woman who had gotten too close to her when she was in pain. Now she had a moment to compose herself before she responded.
Deshra smirked at the woman. It was her nature not to show any weakness unless it could be used to her advantage. Given how little the woman seemed to care that she now had a knife sticking out of her leg, Deshra wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. She removed the knife from her own leg without flinching. “Oh, you mean this? Perhaps you shouldn’t misplace things that are important to you.” Deshra would never have been so bold without Lukos’s sword backing her up. Not to mention the stinging in her leg had brought a level of sarcasm she would normally have held more under control. She could only hope that the woman wouldn’t take too much offense to her comments, or even if she did that this man she had known for all of an evening would be willing to back them up.
These people weren’t fun! They were making Kesi sad. And sad wasn’t a feeling she liked. She really, really didn’t like that feeling. It was almost as bad as mad! Why was the man being all huffy? And why didn’t the girl let Kesi pull it out? She wouldn’t have hurt her! Well, not too much anyway. These two were being absolutely ridiculous. This whole situation made no sense to the young snake charmer. What a bunch of weirdos these two were.
Kesi pouted at the pair. She was the one who was rudely awaken and these two were being bullies! Kesi didn’t like bullies very much. The sad would turn to mad quickly. Couldn’t the two be a lot more fun? Kesi froze in her spot and crossed her arms. “I was just going to remove the knife, mister, no need to get all huffy and protective. You’re really cranky.”
Eyes flicked now back to the girl. She looked different. She had really red curly hair and freckles all over her face. Kesi liked different, different fit in well at the Tempest of Set. But despite different being drawn to people like Kesi, she didn’t much like this girl. She was smirking. That was also rude. Kesi had every desire to take that knife and carve that smirk right off her face. It would be fun too! What would be redder, her blood, or her hair? If Kesi ran the knife down her skull, would she be able to see the blood as it bubbled? All questions Kesi desired to get answered, and the more she stared at the girl, the more she really wanted it to happen.
But no Kesi was in no position to do this. Her brother might even be mad at her. She was sent to collect items, not to cause trouble. Even if trouble was really all Kesi wanted to do. She had to be… patient whatever that meant.
But also this girl was really confusing. Did she misplace the knife? No, no she didn’t. Kesi’s head tilted to the side, squinting at the red-headed stranger. It was in her hand! Was the girl crazy? She must be! How did she not even realize that she pulled the knife out of her leg?
“Miss, you’re holding it.” Kesi pointed at the knife. “It’s not misplaced. Are you crazy? Crazy people shouldn’t hold knives, miss. Or maybe you don’t know what it is? That’s a juggling knife. You throw it in the air and then you catch it.”
The snake charmer shook her head and looked at the grumpy guy. “I’m going to take a step forward, mister. Before you get all stabby with that sword. Crazy people shouldn’t have knives. Plus it’s mine. And it needs to be clean now.” Kesi took steps forward, reaching for the knife in that was in the strange woman’s hand. One eye was on the sword, ready to move if he went for a stab. Kesi wasn’t about to die today by two lunatics, no sir!
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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These people weren’t fun! They were making Kesi sad. And sad wasn’t a feeling she liked. She really, really didn’t like that feeling. It was almost as bad as mad! Why was the man being all huffy? And why didn’t the girl let Kesi pull it out? She wouldn’t have hurt her! Well, not too much anyway. These two were being absolutely ridiculous. This whole situation made no sense to the young snake charmer. What a bunch of weirdos these two were.
Kesi pouted at the pair. She was the one who was rudely awaken and these two were being bullies! Kesi didn’t like bullies very much. The sad would turn to mad quickly. Couldn’t the two be a lot more fun? Kesi froze in her spot and crossed her arms. “I was just going to remove the knife, mister, no need to get all huffy and protective. You’re really cranky.”
Eyes flicked now back to the girl. She looked different. She had really red curly hair and freckles all over her face. Kesi liked different, different fit in well at the Tempest of Set. But despite different being drawn to people like Kesi, she didn’t much like this girl. She was smirking. That was also rude. Kesi had every desire to take that knife and carve that smirk right off her face. It would be fun too! What would be redder, her blood, or her hair? If Kesi ran the knife down her skull, would she be able to see the blood as it bubbled? All questions Kesi desired to get answered, and the more she stared at the girl, the more she really wanted it to happen.
But no Kesi was in no position to do this. Her brother might even be mad at her. She was sent to collect items, not to cause trouble. Even if trouble was really all Kesi wanted to do. She had to be… patient whatever that meant.
But also this girl was really confusing. Did she misplace the knife? No, no she didn’t. Kesi’s head tilted to the side, squinting at the red-headed stranger. It was in her hand! Was the girl crazy? She must be! How did she not even realize that she pulled the knife out of her leg?
“Miss, you’re holding it.” Kesi pointed at the knife. “It’s not misplaced. Are you crazy? Crazy people shouldn’t hold knives, miss. Or maybe you don’t know what it is? That’s a juggling knife. You throw it in the air and then you catch it.”
The snake charmer shook her head and looked at the grumpy guy. “I’m going to take a step forward, mister. Before you get all stabby with that sword. Crazy people shouldn’t have knives. Plus it’s mine. And it needs to be clean now.” Kesi took steps forward, reaching for the knife in that was in the strange woman’s hand. One eye was on the sword, ready to move if he went for a stab. Kesi wasn’t about to die today by two lunatics, no sir!
These people weren’t fun! They were making Kesi sad. And sad wasn’t a feeling she liked. She really, really didn’t like that feeling. It was almost as bad as mad! Why was the man being all huffy? And why didn’t the girl let Kesi pull it out? She wouldn’t have hurt her! Well, not too much anyway. These two were being absolutely ridiculous. This whole situation made no sense to the young snake charmer. What a bunch of weirdos these two were.
Kesi pouted at the pair. She was the one who was rudely awaken and these two were being bullies! Kesi didn’t like bullies very much. The sad would turn to mad quickly. Couldn’t the two be a lot more fun? Kesi froze in her spot and crossed her arms. “I was just going to remove the knife, mister, no need to get all huffy and protective. You’re really cranky.”
Eyes flicked now back to the girl. She looked different. She had really red curly hair and freckles all over her face. Kesi liked different, different fit in well at the Tempest of Set. But despite different being drawn to people like Kesi, she didn’t much like this girl. She was smirking. That was also rude. Kesi had every desire to take that knife and carve that smirk right off her face. It would be fun too! What would be redder, her blood, or her hair? If Kesi ran the knife down her skull, would she be able to see the blood as it bubbled? All questions Kesi desired to get answered, and the more she stared at the girl, the more she really wanted it to happen.
But no Kesi was in no position to do this. Her brother might even be mad at her. She was sent to collect items, not to cause trouble. Even if trouble was really all Kesi wanted to do. She had to be… patient whatever that meant.
But also this girl was really confusing. Did she misplace the knife? No, no she didn’t. Kesi’s head tilted to the side, squinting at the red-headed stranger. It was in her hand! Was the girl crazy? She must be! How did she not even realize that she pulled the knife out of her leg?
“Miss, you’re holding it.” Kesi pointed at the knife. “It’s not misplaced. Are you crazy? Crazy people shouldn’t hold knives, miss. Or maybe you don’t know what it is? That’s a juggling knife. You throw it in the air and then you catch it.”
The snake charmer shook her head and looked at the grumpy guy. “I’m going to take a step forward, mister. Before you get all stabby with that sword. Crazy people shouldn’t have knives. Plus it’s mine. And it needs to be clean now.” Kesi took steps forward, reaching for the knife in that was in the strange woman’s hand. One eye was on the sword, ready to move if he went for a stab. Kesi wasn’t about to die today by two lunatics, no sir!
He could hear the wet sound of the knife sliding out of Deshra’s leg but he didn’t look down to check what she was doing. His entire attention was on this amazingly strange homeless woman. However, he was slightly impressed by the bluff Deshra was giving the woman now. After all, Lukos had been stabbed any number of times and it always, always hurt. Though, people usually tried to stab him somewhere abouts his middle or chest. A bit more lethal than a leg wound. Deshra wouldn’t need to concern herself with this initial attack so much as a risk of infection. That was the real killer.
“Oh, you mean this? Perhaps you shouldn’t misplace things that are important to you.”
Lukos pressed his lips together hard enough to form a straight line to keep from smirking. He absolutely would be looking for this exact whore again in the future. Though, the woman’s next sentence fixed the smirk. It dropped from his face like a stone.
“I was just going to remove the knife, mister, no need to get all huffy and protective. You’re really cranky.”
“I tend to get that way where weapons are involved,” he replied in literal disbelief at this weirdness of this girl.
“I’m going to take a step forward, mister. Before you get all stabby with that sword. Crazy people shouldn’t have knives. Plus it’s mine. And it needs to be clean now.”
“The fuck you are,” Lukos’s wrist flicked to the side, the tip of the sword following Kesi’s every movement. Just as she was afraid of, Lukos made good on the threat. As soon as she got close enough to grab for the knife, he made a harsh swipe, willing to slice into her chest if she wasn’t acrobatic enough to move. “You misplaced your knife,” he said to Kesi, keeping his sword pointed at her in case she got the idiotic idea to try again. “Finders keepers.”
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He could hear the wet sound of the knife sliding out of Deshra’s leg but he didn’t look down to check what she was doing. His entire attention was on this amazingly strange homeless woman. However, he was slightly impressed by the bluff Deshra was giving the woman now. After all, Lukos had been stabbed any number of times and it always, always hurt. Though, people usually tried to stab him somewhere abouts his middle or chest. A bit more lethal than a leg wound. Deshra wouldn’t need to concern herself with this initial attack so much as a risk of infection. That was the real killer.
“Oh, you mean this? Perhaps you shouldn’t misplace things that are important to you.”
Lukos pressed his lips together hard enough to form a straight line to keep from smirking. He absolutely would be looking for this exact whore again in the future. Though, the woman’s next sentence fixed the smirk. It dropped from his face like a stone.
“I was just going to remove the knife, mister, no need to get all huffy and protective. You’re really cranky.”
“I tend to get that way where weapons are involved,” he replied in literal disbelief at this weirdness of this girl.
“I’m going to take a step forward, mister. Before you get all stabby with that sword. Crazy people shouldn’t have knives. Plus it’s mine. And it needs to be clean now.”
“The fuck you are,” Lukos’s wrist flicked to the side, the tip of the sword following Kesi’s every movement. Just as she was afraid of, Lukos made good on the threat. As soon as she got close enough to grab for the knife, he made a harsh swipe, willing to slice into her chest if she wasn’t acrobatic enough to move. “You misplaced your knife,” he said to Kesi, keeping his sword pointed at her in case she got the idiotic idea to try again. “Finders keepers.”
He could hear the wet sound of the knife sliding out of Deshra’s leg but he didn’t look down to check what she was doing. His entire attention was on this amazingly strange homeless woman. However, he was slightly impressed by the bluff Deshra was giving the woman now. After all, Lukos had been stabbed any number of times and it always, always hurt. Though, people usually tried to stab him somewhere abouts his middle or chest. A bit more lethal than a leg wound. Deshra wouldn’t need to concern herself with this initial attack so much as a risk of infection. That was the real killer.
“Oh, you mean this? Perhaps you shouldn’t misplace things that are important to you.”
Lukos pressed his lips together hard enough to form a straight line to keep from smirking. He absolutely would be looking for this exact whore again in the future. Though, the woman’s next sentence fixed the smirk. It dropped from his face like a stone.
“I was just going to remove the knife, mister, no need to get all huffy and protective. You’re really cranky.”
“I tend to get that way where weapons are involved,” he replied in literal disbelief at this weirdness of this girl.
“I’m going to take a step forward, mister. Before you get all stabby with that sword. Crazy people shouldn’t have knives. Plus it’s mine. And it needs to be clean now.”
“The fuck you are,” Lukos’s wrist flicked to the side, the tip of the sword following Kesi’s every movement. Just as she was afraid of, Lukos made good on the threat. As soon as she got close enough to grab for the knife, he made a harsh swipe, willing to slice into her chest if she wasn’t acrobatic enough to move. “You misplaced your knife,” he said to Kesi, keeping his sword pointed at her in case she got the idiotic idea to try again. “Finders keepers.”
Normally Deshra wouldn’t be so bold. She couldn’t risk it. Normally if she got into trouble she was the only one she could turn to to get her back out of trouble. Even the owner of her brothel never had seemed much inclined to stick his neck out for her. Here, however, she had Lukos’s sword to back up her words so she could be very bold indeed. Besides, this woman was completely fucking nuts and she found that incredibly irritating.
“You think I’m the crazy one?” Deshra asked in disbelief. “Why don’t you try looking in a mirror?” Though given how weirdly this woman seemed to be taking all of her other comments, that insult seemed just as likely to go over her head. At least she had tried. Of course, her explanation of what this knife was for didn’t help her mood at all. “If you’re supposed to just throw it and catch it, then what was it doing in my leg? I think that’s awfully irresponsible of you to just throw it at people.”
Deshra grinned and repeated Lukos’s words “Finders keepers.” At this point, she just wanted to get under this woman’s skin. Much like she’d gotten an actual knife under hers. Damn did that hurt. She had been trying her best to ignore the pain, and not show weakness in front of this completely bonkers woman, but the fact that the wound hadn’t _stopped_ bleeding yet was starting to grow concerning.
Don’t show weakness. Well, that would have been much easier if the world didn’t seem to be swimming in front of her eyes. She would sit down, that would be much better than losing her balance and falling over. She gritted her teeth and sat down carefully, deliberately, trying to ignore the trail of blood down her leg, and the protestation as her leg muscle was forced to do the work of lowering her to the ground. Still, she managed a graceful descent, leaving her sitting with her right leg tucked in, her left leg out straight where it hurt the least. Now at least, she was not in danger of falling over.
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Normally Deshra wouldn’t be so bold. She couldn’t risk it. Normally if she got into trouble she was the only one she could turn to to get her back out of trouble. Even the owner of her brothel never had seemed much inclined to stick his neck out for her. Here, however, she had Lukos’s sword to back up her words so she could be very bold indeed. Besides, this woman was completely fucking nuts and she found that incredibly irritating.
“You think I’m the crazy one?” Deshra asked in disbelief. “Why don’t you try looking in a mirror?” Though given how weirdly this woman seemed to be taking all of her other comments, that insult seemed just as likely to go over her head. At least she had tried. Of course, her explanation of what this knife was for didn’t help her mood at all. “If you’re supposed to just throw it and catch it, then what was it doing in my leg? I think that’s awfully irresponsible of you to just throw it at people.”
Deshra grinned and repeated Lukos’s words “Finders keepers.” At this point, she just wanted to get under this woman’s skin. Much like she’d gotten an actual knife under hers. Damn did that hurt. She had been trying her best to ignore the pain, and not show weakness in front of this completely bonkers woman, but the fact that the wound hadn’t _stopped_ bleeding yet was starting to grow concerning.
Don’t show weakness. Well, that would have been much easier if the world didn’t seem to be swimming in front of her eyes. She would sit down, that would be much better than losing her balance and falling over. She gritted her teeth and sat down carefully, deliberately, trying to ignore the trail of blood down her leg, and the protestation as her leg muscle was forced to do the work of lowering her to the ground. Still, she managed a graceful descent, leaving her sitting with her right leg tucked in, her left leg out straight where it hurt the least. Now at least, she was not in danger of falling over.
Normally Deshra wouldn’t be so bold. She couldn’t risk it. Normally if she got into trouble she was the only one she could turn to to get her back out of trouble. Even the owner of her brothel never had seemed much inclined to stick his neck out for her. Here, however, she had Lukos’s sword to back up her words so she could be very bold indeed. Besides, this woman was completely fucking nuts and she found that incredibly irritating.
“You think I’m the crazy one?” Deshra asked in disbelief. “Why don’t you try looking in a mirror?” Though given how weirdly this woman seemed to be taking all of her other comments, that insult seemed just as likely to go over her head. At least she had tried. Of course, her explanation of what this knife was for didn’t help her mood at all. “If you’re supposed to just throw it and catch it, then what was it doing in my leg? I think that’s awfully irresponsible of you to just throw it at people.”
Deshra grinned and repeated Lukos’s words “Finders keepers.” At this point, she just wanted to get under this woman’s skin. Much like she’d gotten an actual knife under hers. Damn did that hurt. She had been trying her best to ignore the pain, and not show weakness in front of this completely bonkers woman, but the fact that the wound hadn’t _stopped_ bleeding yet was starting to grow concerning.
Don’t show weakness. Well, that would have been much easier if the world didn’t seem to be swimming in front of her eyes. She would sit down, that would be much better than losing her balance and falling over. She gritted her teeth and sat down carefully, deliberately, trying to ignore the trail of blood down her leg, and the protestation as her leg muscle was forced to do the work of lowering her to the ground. Still, she managed a graceful descent, leaving her sitting with her right leg tucked in, her left leg out straight where it hurt the least. Now at least, she was not in danger of falling over.
Kesi was really, really unhappy. These two people were mean. They were bullies! The stabby one slashed at her chest and Kesi just barely managed to jump back. She had given him a warning of what she was going to do and he still got all mad! Stabbing was her thing too! Kesi didn’t like bullies.
And the crazy girl was talking more nonsense. “What do mirrors have to do with being crazy?” Why should Kesi look in the mirror? That didn’t make any sense. Kesi looked in mirrors all the time! She needed to put on the body paint. Was the girl afraid of mirrors or something? Did she know that there wasn’t someone else in a mirror but it was just a reflection of her? Was she that dumb?
“I thought the knife was a pillow.” Kesi said. “I didn’t mean to throw a knife. If I did you wouldn’t be alive right now.” And then that would be a whole other problem. Though if she wanted to kill the girl, she wouldn’t do it out in public. And she would make sure she suffered because she was mean.
Finders keepers. They both had said. That didn’t make sense either. “I didn’t misplace my knife, mister.” Kesi’s eyebrows furrowed together. These two were frustrating. She was really starting to get angry. “And you can’t find something if it wasn’t lost.” She pointed out. “If you take it then it’s stealing. And stealing isn’t very nice.”
There was many mean things that Kesi did. She stabbed. She poisoned. She hit and kicked and hurt. But she didn’t steal. The people who Kesi killed deserved it. Either they got in her brother’s way, or they got Kesi really angry. But stealing was deceitful and cowardly. Only bullies stole. Kesi was many things but she was not a bully!
At least Kesi could admit that she did a mistake. She hadn’t meant to throw the knife, but the rest of the reactions was over the top and unreasonable! Was this the first time the girl was stabbed? The first time Kesi was stabbed she thought it was funny and cool and laughed it off. She got poisoned too! It was a great time! Was she upset because it wasn’t a poisoned knife? If Kesi did this on purpose maybe she would have poisoned it. But at this point, she’d rather just kill the girl. It would be much less of a headache.
The man was a bigger problem though. He had a sword and he seemed oddly protective of her. What business was it of his anyway? It’s not like he got hurt. He should have just walked off and let the women take care of it. He sounded like a foreigner though. Foreigners could sometimes be nosy, so maybe that was why.
Kesi would give the girl one more chance. She crossed her arms, “I’d like my knife back, Miss.”
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Kesi was really, really unhappy. These two people were mean. They were bullies! The stabby one slashed at her chest and Kesi just barely managed to jump back. She had given him a warning of what she was going to do and he still got all mad! Stabbing was her thing too! Kesi didn’t like bullies.
And the crazy girl was talking more nonsense. “What do mirrors have to do with being crazy?” Why should Kesi look in the mirror? That didn’t make any sense. Kesi looked in mirrors all the time! She needed to put on the body paint. Was the girl afraid of mirrors or something? Did she know that there wasn’t someone else in a mirror but it was just a reflection of her? Was she that dumb?
“I thought the knife was a pillow.” Kesi said. “I didn’t mean to throw a knife. If I did you wouldn’t be alive right now.” And then that would be a whole other problem. Though if she wanted to kill the girl, she wouldn’t do it out in public. And she would make sure she suffered because she was mean.
Finders keepers. They both had said. That didn’t make sense either. “I didn’t misplace my knife, mister.” Kesi’s eyebrows furrowed together. These two were frustrating. She was really starting to get angry. “And you can’t find something if it wasn’t lost.” She pointed out. “If you take it then it’s stealing. And stealing isn’t very nice.”
There was many mean things that Kesi did. She stabbed. She poisoned. She hit and kicked and hurt. But she didn’t steal. The people who Kesi killed deserved it. Either they got in her brother’s way, or they got Kesi really angry. But stealing was deceitful and cowardly. Only bullies stole. Kesi was many things but she was not a bully!
At least Kesi could admit that she did a mistake. She hadn’t meant to throw the knife, but the rest of the reactions was over the top and unreasonable! Was this the first time the girl was stabbed? The first time Kesi was stabbed she thought it was funny and cool and laughed it off. She got poisoned too! It was a great time! Was she upset because it wasn’t a poisoned knife? If Kesi did this on purpose maybe she would have poisoned it. But at this point, she’d rather just kill the girl. It would be much less of a headache.
The man was a bigger problem though. He had a sword and he seemed oddly protective of her. What business was it of his anyway? It’s not like he got hurt. He should have just walked off and let the women take care of it. He sounded like a foreigner though. Foreigners could sometimes be nosy, so maybe that was why.
Kesi would give the girl one more chance. She crossed her arms, “I’d like my knife back, Miss.”
Kesi was really, really unhappy. These two people were mean. They were bullies! The stabby one slashed at her chest and Kesi just barely managed to jump back. She had given him a warning of what she was going to do and he still got all mad! Stabbing was her thing too! Kesi didn’t like bullies.
And the crazy girl was talking more nonsense. “What do mirrors have to do with being crazy?” Why should Kesi look in the mirror? That didn’t make any sense. Kesi looked in mirrors all the time! She needed to put on the body paint. Was the girl afraid of mirrors or something? Did she know that there wasn’t someone else in a mirror but it was just a reflection of her? Was she that dumb?
“I thought the knife was a pillow.” Kesi said. “I didn’t mean to throw a knife. If I did you wouldn’t be alive right now.” And then that would be a whole other problem. Though if she wanted to kill the girl, she wouldn’t do it out in public. And she would make sure she suffered because she was mean.
Finders keepers. They both had said. That didn’t make sense either. “I didn’t misplace my knife, mister.” Kesi’s eyebrows furrowed together. These two were frustrating. She was really starting to get angry. “And you can’t find something if it wasn’t lost.” She pointed out. “If you take it then it’s stealing. And stealing isn’t very nice.”
There was many mean things that Kesi did. She stabbed. She poisoned. She hit and kicked and hurt. But she didn’t steal. The people who Kesi killed deserved it. Either they got in her brother’s way, or they got Kesi really angry. But stealing was deceitful and cowardly. Only bullies stole. Kesi was many things but she was not a bully!
At least Kesi could admit that she did a mistake. She hadn’t meant to throw the knife, but the rest of the reactions was over the top and unreasonable! Was this the first time the girl was stabbed? The first time Kesi was stabbed she thought it was funny and cool and laughed it off. She got poisoned too! It was a great time! Was she upset because it wasn’t a poisoned knife? If Kesi did this on purpose maybe she would have poisoned it. But at this point, she’d rather just kill the girl. It would be much less of a headache.
The man was a bigger problem though. He had a sword and he seemed oddly protective of her. What business was it of his anyway? It’s not like he got hurt. He should have just walked off and let the women take care of it. He sounded like a foreigner though. Foreigners could sometimes be nosy, so maybe that was why.
Kesi would give the girl one more chance. She crossed her arms, “I’d like my knife back, Miss.”
The whore lowered herself to the ground at his feet, looking admirably calm. He could smell the stink of the blood though and didn’t need to look down to know it was pooling beneath her. The initial wound itself didn’t cause him over much concern. It’d hurt, of course, but it was the infection that would actually kill her, if anything was going to. Barring, of course, this nutty homeless woman throwing...pillows?
Lukos rolled his eyes and lowered his sword, sighing a bit as the vagabond explained she’d been throwing pillows. Well if she slept on knives as pillows, that explained a lot. First of all, that was terribly impractical. One might get an unintentional haircut or some sort of wound. Secondly, it was uncomfortable. First you had to deal with the blade itself but supposing you were like most people and changed positions through the night? Ramming your head against the knife’s hilt didn’t sound like the best way to continue sleeping peacefully. Obviously she was insane. That was the only way Lukos could figure out this woman’s problem.
“I didn’t misplace my knife, mister.” She was not a child but the way she spoke reminded him of one. Lukos frowned but in a quirked way, his features a mask of irritated confusion.
“And you can’t find something if it wasn’t lost.” she persisted, to which Lukos muttered, “The fuck is she talking about?” under his breath.
“If you take it then it’s stealing. And stealing isn’t very nice.” she finished.
He stared at her. One slow blink followed another and then he made a sort of ‘unfh’ in the back of his throat that was a little more than a sigh and less than a sound. Then he extended both arms in a helpless ‘so the hell what?’ gesture and said, “You were expecting nice at midnight on the streets, Crazy Girl?” Honestly, it was just this sort of naivety that got people killed. Not nice indeed. He’d show her not nice. Right up her-
“I’d like my knife back, Miss.”
Wow this girl was rude. Not even listening. Lukos looked down at the whore. “Look, your leg’s not great. Do you have some sort of great affinity for that knife? Because if you don’t, I suggest giving it back to her via through her stomach.” See this rude girl talk her way out of a ghastly stomach wound.
"Also," and here he bent down to pick up Deshra, though he was careful to hold her in such a way as to keep the blood away from his own clothes (no sense in having him being forced to do unnecessary laundry). "Let's get you back to the madam."
Without waiting for the homeless woman's input, or the whore's, Lukos walked towards the tavern where he and Deshra had originally come from.
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The whore lowered herself to the ground at his feet, looking admirably calm. He could smell the stink of the blood though and didn’t need to look down to know it was pooling beneath her. The initial wound itself didn’t cause him over much concern. It’d hurt, of course, but it was the infection that would actually kill her, if anything was going to. Barring, of course, this nutty homeless woman throwing...pillows?
Lukos rolled his eyes and lowered his sword, sighing a bit as the vagabond explained she’d been throwing pillows. Well if she slept on knives as pillows, that explained a lot. First of all, that was terribly impractical. One might get an unintentional haircut or some sort of wound. Secondly, it was uncomfortable. First you had to deal with the blade itself but supposing you were like most people and changed positions through the night? Ramming your head against the knife’s hilt didn’t sound like the best way to continue sleeping peacefully. Obviously she was insane. That was the only way Lukos could figure out this woman’s problem.
“I didn’t misplace my knife, mister.” She was not a child but the way she spoke reminded him of one. Lukos frowned but in a quirked way, his features a mask of irritated confusion.
“And you can’t find something if it wasn’t lost.” she persisted, to which Lukos muttered, “The fuck is she talking about?” under his breath.
“If you take it then it’s stealing. And stealing isn’t very nice.” she finished.
He stared at her. One slow blink followed another and then he made a sort of ‘unfh’ in the back of his throat that was a little more than a sigh and less than a sound. Then he extended both arms in a helpless ‘so the hell what?’ gesture and said, “You were expecting nice at midnight on the streets, Crazy Girl?” Honestly, it was just this sort of naivety that got people killed. Not nice indeed. He’d show her not nice. Right up her-
“I’d like my knife back, Miss.”
Wow this girl was rude. Not even listening. Lukos looked down at the whore. “Look, your leg’s not great. Do you have some sort of great affinity for that knife? Because if you don’t, I suggest giving it back to her via through her stomach.” See this rude girl talk her way out of a ghastly stomach wound.
"Also," and here he bent down to pick up Deshra, though he was careful to hold her in such a way as to keep the blood away from his own clothes (no sense in having him being forced to do unnecessary laundry). "Let's get you back to the madam."
Without waiting for the homeless woman's input, or the whore's, Lukos walked towards the tavern where he and Deshra had originally come from.
The whore lowered herself to the ground at his feet, looking admirably calm. He could smell the stink of the blood though and didn’t need to look down to know it was pooling beneath her. The initial wound itself didn’t cause him over much concern. It’d hurt, of course, but it was the infection that would actually kill her, if anything was going to. Barring, of course, this nutty homeless woman throwing...pillows?
Lukos rolled his eyes and lowered his sword, sighing a bit as the vagabond explained she’d been throwing pillows. Well if she slept on knives as pillows, that explained a lot. First of all, that was terribly impractical. One might get an unintentional haircut or some sort of wound. Secondly, it was uncomfortable. First you had to deal with the blade itself but supposing you were like most people and changed positions through the night? Ramming your head against the knife’s hilt didn’t sound like the best way to continue sleeping peacefully. Obviously she was insane. That was the only way Lukos could figure out this woman’s problem.
“I didn’t misplace my knife, mister.” She was not a child but the way she spoke reminded him of one. Lukos frowned but in a quirked way, his features a mask of irritated confusion.
“And you can’t find something if it wasn’t lost.” she persisted, to which Lukos muttered, “The fuck is she talking about?” under his breath.
“If you take it then it’s stealing. And stealing isn’t very nice.” she finished.
He stared at her. One slow blink followed another and then he made a sort of ‘unfh’ in the back of his throat that was a little more than a sigh and less than a sound. Then he extended both arms in a helpless ‘so the hell what?’ gesture and said, “You were expecting nice at midnight on the streets, Crazy Girl?” Honestly, it was just this sort of naivety that got people killed. Not nice indeed. He’d show her not nice. Right up her-
“I’d like my knife back, Miss.”
Wow this girl was rude. Not even listening. Lukos looked down at the whore. “Look, your leg’s not great. Do you have some sort of great affinity for that knife? Because if you don’t, I suggest giving it back to her via through her stomach.” See this rude girl talk her way out of a ghastly stomach wound.
"Also," and here he bent down to pick up Deshra, though he was careful to hold her in such a way as to keep the blood away from his own clothes (no sense in having him being forced to do unnecessary laundry). "Let's get you back to the madam."
Without waiting for the homeless woman's input, or the whore's, Lukos walked towards the tavern where he and Deshra had originally come from.