Good Intentions (Attn:Fiona)

[Jiggity]

Avram

Avram reclined comfortably against a tree near a stream that he suspected started just out of sight around the bend and ended just out of sight the other way. The One Power seemed to make it commonplace. He had finished morning lessons and borrowed a book on the history of the White Tower, a subject that he was definitely lacking in education on, begged food from the kitchens to take with him, and settled in for a peaceful lunch in the gardens here. Good, solid food and an interesting book in the wake of an exhausting morning, with a beautiful day next to a gurgling stream. A wonderful noontime. Unfortunately, it was not to last.

The two guards rounding the corner were, unfortunately, familiar to him. They weren't bad people, exactly, but they were very much prone to drink. And by the volume of their voices they were deep, deep in their cups. He had seen them a few times while getting to know a few of the guards, trying to make sure he was familiar with at least one or two people in every shift. If he needed to leave quietly, best if he could talk his way out easily. And by the Light did they gossip. Not that Avram minded, gossip being just one more form of information to him. Though the gossip about these two was less than flattering, it did mean he was forewarned.

He blinked, returning to the moment as they stood over him. Blood and Ashes. I'm more tired than I thought. His thoughts didn't usually run away on him that much. He had wanted to hide the book before they got there, but now it was far too late.

"Little drin, what are you reading?" The bigger one, Jem, slurred out. He stood nearly six feet tall, towering over Avram when he was standing, let alone on the ground as he was now. As slurred as his voice was, he was steady on his feet, bending over to loom over the smaller man. Sober he was reasonable, but a mean drunk, prone to hassling anyone he thought he could get away with. Avram definitely fell into that category.

"Why are you reading?" The other said, not as slurred but slower. "Not getting enough exercise?" Amon, his name was, standing about... four inches shorter than his companion, Avram estimated. Amon wasn't as mean as Jem, but he was willing to follow wherever Jem led.

Avram sighed internally, keeping his outer expression smooth as he carefully tucked the book behind him to keep it safe and held his hands up in front of him. "Look, I don't want any trouble."

"Well ain't that sweet." Jem sneered, bending down to put a hand on Avram's shoulder.

[Sunny]

Fiona

Free time. Fiona had precious little of that, between lessons on fighting, tactics, history, and what it meant to be a Gaidin –Gaidar, she reminded herself- of the Grey Tower. On this particular day she sat in the gardens near the stream, her feet pulled beneath her and a new gray coat spread inside out over her lap. Her fingers moved quickly, threading a small needle through the rough wool. The rule stated she had to wear the gray uniform; they said nothing at all about adjusting the sack-like garment to better fit her tiny frame.

The pleasant silence was broken by a slurred voice. The Andoran woman lifted her head, twisting to look. She could just see two men standing near a tree, looking down at an invisible third. She had not realized she had company, but then- she had been rather busy.

“I don’t want trouble,” the one she could not see said, his voice obviously resigned to its inevitable presence.

“Well ain’t that sweet,” the taller man said, his words slurred together with too much drink. Fiona’s chin went up, and she carefully pushed the altered jacket to the side. She knew that tone; she had heard it her whole life. Mocking, belittling, intent on causing pain. Whoever they had cornered against that tree, he did not deserve to be treated that way.

She pushed herself to her feet and walked toward them, wrapping all the authority and force she had ever possessed as a noble around her tiny form. “What’s sweet is two big men ganging up on someone half their size,” she commented in a lazy drawl, as if she herself stood eye to eye with the man who had spoken last, and wore the full regalia of an Andoran noblewoman. “What exactly do you think you are doing, soldier?”

They turned to face her, and the shorter one cocked his head to the side. “Well aren’t you just exactly what my eyes were hoping for this morning,” he commented, his tone shifting from mocking to lewd. “You have mighty fine legs for being-“

Fiona could not get a good angle with their difference in height, but she leapt at him anyway, surprise and the force of her entire body weight allowing her to drag him to the ground. “Leave him alone!” she snapped, gesturing at the man who sat against the tree. “And if you ever mention my legs again I swear by the Light I’ll-“

She cut off, feeling hands clamp around her shoulders, and twisted to look up at the other guard.

Oops.

[Jiggity]

Avram

"What's sweet is two big men ganging up on someone half their size." Avram swore internally. Not that he didn't appreciate someone coming to help, but he had known how this was going to go. They would talk for a while and when he didn't respond too much they would either move on to minor blows that he could easily fend off without seeming to from his unarmed training or go away. But now... He slowly reached down to draw a dagger from a boot top as they began to change the course of commentary. There was only so much he could accept from them directed towards one of his own, recent as that was.

His thoughts were interrupted as the tiny, delicate looking woman in drin'far'ji univorm threw herself at Amon, managing to drag him to the ground. Avram leapt up and, as Jem grabbed the woman's shoulders, reversed the dagger and smashed the pommel into the back of Jem's head. The larger man wilted, eyes rolling up and falling. Avram pulled him to the side slightly so he wouldn't fall on his... helper. Speaking of.

He tried to keep his annoyance from his face but some slipped through. "I suppose thanks are in order..." he noticed the well done hair, make up on her face and remembered how she had carried herself when she came over. "My lady." He bowed slightly. "At this point we'll probably need to knock Amon down there out too. Hopefully the trauma and the liquor will make them forget what exactly happened." He grimaced and gestured at her captive. This was all terribly sloppy, but it should keep him under the radar if neither of them could actually remember quite what had happened. "Do you want to take care of him or should I?"

It was rather strange having someone rescue him. Usually no one bothered.

[Sunny]

Fiona

Fiona looked at the man she had so precipitously stepped in to save. He was only a few fingers taller, she thought, though it was difficult to tell. Average face, average body…the man could have walked through any gathering without undo notice. She thought him Cairhienin by his coloring, and the formality in his tone when he addressed her confirmed it. She openly grimaced at the title, but abrupt realization of what she had done drowned her discomfort.

What was she going to do with the man she had knocked over? Lady Fiona Trakand should have scrambled back, holding her skirts up away from the mess and expressed shock and horror at her untoward behavior. Perhaps, if the situation had called for it, she might have feigned light-headedness, or burst into tears. There were many things Lady Trakand should have done…but Fiona the Drin'far'ji felt no urge to follow any of those paths.

Instead, she pulled her arm back, and with all the strength built up from five years of shooting a long bow, she punched the side of her captive's head. Pain exploded in her hand, arching up her arm and c curling into her brain. She cursed, shaking her hand to relieve the shock and discomfort produced by the impact of bone against bone. "Burn me to bloody ash," she muttered, sucking on her knuckles. She looked down, and to her relief the man she had attacked –Amon?- lay still.

She looked back at the other Drin'far'j curiously. "You must be new," she said as she rose, "or else I have spent more time at my books than I thought. I'm Fiona." She hesitated a moment, glancing at the two guards. "You know, if you report them they won't bother you anymore. Then again, maybe they won't bother you anymore anyway." She grinned mischievously.

[Jiggity]

Avram

While the Andoran noblewoman decided what to do with Amon, Avram sheathed his dagger, bent and put two fingers to the side of Jem's neck, waiting until he felt the pulse beating strongly against his fingers. He'd likely wake up with two throbbing headaches, but not much more than that. He brought one of those on himself by getting this far into his cups, and deserves more than another for assaulting a Drin trying to help Avram thought, not thinking overmuch on the man deserving a penalty for tormenting someone in the first place.

He heard knuckles impacting on skull, as expected, and a muttered oath, also as expected, and turned back to see Fiona, as she identified herself shortly after, caring for her hurt hand. He bent to check Amon's pulse as well, finding it to be just as strong. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that it had gone as according to plan as he had a plan at this point. Which was rather the problem, as he slipped out of plan execution mode long enough to realize that he was dealing with a new person. He covered the spike of anxiety by looking at her knuckles, still in her mouth. "I'm Avram. Wish we had met under better circumstances. It's more likely that I spent more time at my books. I tend to avoid the periods where many people are out working and such. If you want to avoid hurting your fist next time, the heel of your palm tends to work just as well without risking your wrist or hurting nearly as much." Speaking of books. Avram went back to the tree he had been sitting at and gathered up his things, tucking the book securely into the front of his uniform, his notes nestling next to it.

"Yes, I could report them and they wouldn't bother me again. But then they'd talk about me. I would be a snitch and unable to stand up for myself. Or I could fight back and I'd be an upstart who beat on some guards just doing their jobs, the way they'd say it." He stood up and looked over at her, or at least her feet, sighing slightly. "Or I could just be the short guy in grey who they pick on every once in a while when they're bored. And nothing comes of it." He shrugged. His mouth had dried out a bit after this many spontaneous words. I could have just said "That would draw attention." But no, I had to go in depth on it. Burn me.