24th of Saun, Arc 720
Continued from here.
Continued from here.
Soundtrack
Unfortunately for her, as soon as she had turned to begin another cocktail, a voice rang out amongst the rest.
“Don’t you touch her, asshole!”
How Cierne was able to hear that voice amongst the rest was beyond her. Perhaps it was because it had been the first vulgar word used in the last several minutes (and she was fine tuned to curse words as she often used them a lot and found they portrayed a sense of emotion that normal words could not). Maybe it was also because the shout had been so loud it rumbled through the ground and made her feet practically vibrate. Either way, she predicted what was about to happen. It was a frequent occurrence at bars. Especially ones without security. And tonight the head of security was late for their shift. Curse them.
Cierne’s bravery had helped her out of difficult situations in the past, but sometimes it wavered into the realm of recklessness. This time, it was definitely in such a realm because she found herself striding out from behind the bar, through several hot bodies, and toward the source of the commotion.
Two men were standing in the middle of an open area, both bestowing looks of disgust and anger on their faces. The space around them was no doubt created by the other bar-goers for fear of getting mixed up in a potential kerfuffle.
It kind of resembled the beginning of a mosh pit- those who didn’t want to have their bodies slammed against other bodies had opened up a pit to let those that did have their fun. Smart of them, Cierne thought in regards to the fearful denizens as she stepped closer to one of the men.
He was unnaturally tall, like, several feet taller than Cierne and she was of average height, if not a bit taller than the standard woman. His eyes were the color of soot and they blazed with malcontent as he stared at the other man. He wasn’t nearly as tall, but appeared just as intimidating to Cierne if not more so. Tattoos covered every inch of his body save for his face, which was littered with scars of various sizes. His eyes were green slits, but not literally (Cierne didn’t know if there even was a race where someone could have cat-like eyes). He was pushing up his sleeves to reveal more tattoos which embellished his incredibly large biceps. Thick veins had flexed to the surface of his arm; they looked like tree vines rippling in the wind.
Hooooly shit, she thought. If she didn’t intervene soon, shit was going to hit the fan. And she definitely didn’t need that on a night like tonight.
“Hey!” She interjected, throwing herself arrogantly between the two men. “What’s the deal here?”
The man with the tattoos was the first to speak, his slit-like eyes dilating slightly. “This boy here was hitting on my woman,” he declared.
Upon his declaration, Cierne noticed a short, slightly chubby woman with platinum blond hair standing behind him. Her blue eyes looked frightened, indicating her fear towards the impending brawl. However, her lips didn’t reflect that fear. They were slightly upturned into a small smirk like she was enjoying being fought over.
“Your ‘woman’ hit on me first,” said the tall man with a voice so low it practically shook the ground the Naer stood on.
“Are you insinuating she’s unfaithful?”
“No,” the man replied. Cierne let out a sigh, the assumption that this fight would resolve itself quickly dissipating as he continued. “I’m insinuating that she’s a whore.”
Cierne felt the already pertinent tension increase exponentially. This was not going to end well, but if they became physical (and soon they would if she didn’t stop it), what would she be able to do?
The tattooed man took a step towards the other, his fist raising slightly. She could see the power in his arm. She could envision his fist being thrown towards the other man’s face and hear the crack of the bones of his nose reverberate through the crowd.
“Oh, I just love your art!” Cierne exclaimed randomly, bringing herself to tentatively touch the man’s arm. She had stepped in just before the shit hit the fan… yet again.
He paused, losing focus on the other man as his attention drifted towards her. “What the hell are you-“ he started, but Cierne had started to dissociate from his voice. She couldn’t hear him anymore for she had begun to meddle in his mind.
The man had layers upon layers of emotions, all tangled, seemingly without ends. Rage was a prominent thread, coupled with insecurity, she noticed, but it was so hard to concentrate with so many people surrounding her. Her brain was overloaded, her own thoughts quickly becoming a nuisance.
So she sucked in a humid gasp of air and counted to five before exhaling. And she did it again. And again before she continued. Alas, since she had not much experience in meditating, its effects only did so much for her.
With her ability to focus dwindling as time progressed, she began to quicken her pace. Since the man’s rage was so obvious, she held onto that thread with a vice grip. Locating a soft spot in his psyche, she ineptly began to bring forth the equally as abundant threads of insecurity. Entwining his insecurity into his rage, she created a makeshift balance of emotion within him. He would have to battle with what he felt more and even still would doubt as he continued his current action (or so she hoped).
“Does it mean anything?” She asked absentmindedly, referring to his arm tattoo.
She continued to touch him, pretending she was admiring his ink (although she genuinely did like the work!) while she continued to bring forth his emotional thread of rage. His thoughts were everywhere and the longer she worked, the more unstable she became. Her distracting him was also only doing so much in her favor.
While she could not hem on his threads so that the already existing rage would no longer bring more rage into his emotional consciousness, she continued to entwine the rage with an emotion of insecurity instead. Though, she had never tried this before. It was a new ability she had come to discover on her own so it took a lot out of her and did not guarantee success. She hoped it would though.
“Do you regret your tattoos?” She inquired, hoping to speak to his insecurities. She didn’t know if he was insecure about his appearance or just the prospect of losing his girl, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“No,” he said through bared teeth. His eyes were narrowed, but they were no longer looking at his adversary. Instead, they were looking at her.
Shit, was she just changing the direction of his rage onto herself? Was she digging her own grave by trying to cease the excavation of others?
Her head was throbbing so much at this point, she had to release her hold on the threads that engulfed his mind. She had done what she could. If her magic hadn’t distracted him enough, she hoped her words had.
“I’ve got some tattoos of my own!” she announced, throwing her arm awkwardly into the air.
Cierne slanted a glance to the tall man, who was standing a few feet away with a smirk etched onto his face. His eyes were less on the man with the tattoos and more on the woman behind him. They held something nasty, and as a woman who worked at a bar, Cierne could easily hypothesize what his intentions were.
“I’ll give you a free drink if you can tell me what your tattoos mean!” She exclaimed, stifling a stutter. She let go of the tattooed man’s arms and walked briskly over to the other. She narrowed her eyes at him slightly. She hated slimy guys like this creep who looked at women like they were nothing but sex objects. But she tried to hide her distaste and gave him a half smile.
“Do you have any tattoos?” She asked, quickly reaching for his arm. Before he wrenched his arm from her, hatred burning like fuel in his eyes, Cierne had instilled an interesting idea into his mind.
Since the Naer loved alcohol, it was no stretch to loving it a little too much. Gluttony was a vice she was all too familiar with. And she always liked to share her vices with others. The otherworldly suggestion she had given him had been a gluttonous one and since they were all standing in a bar, it wasn’t too difficult for that suggestion to take hold… and conquer.
“Whatever,” the unnaturally tall man muttered. “I’m grabbing a drink. You stay away from me, you hear?” He stabbed a long finger to the tattooed man before stomping off to the bar.
By now the space around them had started to shrink and everyone had gone back to minding their own business. Loud laughter, nonsensical chatters and clinking glasses were all that could be heard.
Cierne looked back to the man with the tattoos and his girlfriend only to find them kissing passionately. She rolled her eyes, but only gave herself more of a headache by doing so. And all this noise was not helping.
She hobbled her way back over to her station at the bar with a sigh.
Time to get back to work.
x
