Thread Closed
Daytime was never a favorite of the Keepers, and so it was for Vijako. Though perhaps she'd gone to sleep earlier than normal the past night -- and in a rather unusual and uncomfortable location -- she was too battered to wake easily. Indeed, the street brats who had gone through her pockets at the cusp of dawn had found her unusually easy prey, even for someone who'd been kicked a few too many times.
She murmured something incomprehensible as the guard carefully prodded her. It was in everyone's best interests that she get up after all; it was hardly good for the city's economy if the well-to-do started seeing bodies in the alleys everywhere. It wasn't exactly an image that pleased the bureaucrats, and it fairly horrified the merchants.
"Wazzat suns 'en. . .'urts. . .go 'way. . ." But the guard was persistent despite her reluctance to be conscious, and with a good nature that may or may not have been manufactured he reassured the miqo'te in the alley's mouth. It was about then that Vijako peeled her eyelids up enough to see her presumed rescuer, and her face immediately tightened in unhappiness.
She forced herself up, scowling and wincing, and stared at the ground as she spoke to the guard. "'Mfine. I'll move. Leave off."
She tried to wipe the stickiness of her hands off on her breeches and found that the action lit fire all over her palms. She made an involuntary sound, ears flattened, but managed to swallow a growl. She started to stagger to her feet, but was too dizzy to make it far before she teetered sideways and ran into the alley wall with her shoulder, smearing herself with the moldy growth that clung to it. Gods above, she reeked.
She murmured something incomprehensible as the guard carefully prodded her. It was in everyone's best interests that she get up after all; it was hardly good for the city's economy if the well-to-do started seeing bodies in the alleys everywhere. It wasn't exactly an image that pleased the bureaucrats, and it fairly horrified the merchants.
"Wazzat suns 'en. . .'urts. . .go 'way. . ." But the guard was persistent despite her reluctance to be conscious, and with a good nature that may or may not have been manufactured he reassured the miqo'te in the alley's mouth. It was about then that Vijako peeled her eyelids up enough to see her presumed rescuer, and her face immediately tightened in unhappiness.
She forced herself up, scowling and wincing, and stared at the ground as she spoke to the guard. "'Mfine. I'll move. Leave off."
She tried to wipe the stickiness of her hands off on her breeches and found that the action lit fire all over her palms. She made an involuntary sound, ears flattened, but managed to swallow a growl. She started to stagger to her feet, but was too dizzy to make it far before she teetered sideways and ran into the alley wall with her shoulder, smearing herself with the moldy growth that clung to it. Gods above, she reeked.