by Karston » Mon May 28, 2007 5:17 am
He was, for the most part, unaware of Lavender's movements. Karston was not, by any means, a man of extreme reflex or hearing. He may have been a man of far more interesting things, but this was a circumstance that failed to put into play a key part of his usual routine. As she crept ever so quietly upon his form, his attentions were focused on the Constables' men and their words of polite extrication. Karston, who was a man of far finer taste in gentry, merely smiled in a thin-lipped way. "It's obvious we're not wanted, which is a typical reply from all well-to-do establishment owners. So, instead of kissing ass .. we're kicking it."
This was the point that made Karston feel a little uneasy. Something was ... turning a bit, Karston caught a glimpse of fabric. But it was too late, "GAH!" The sound of pain and surprise flew up from the air as the knife found its home in the meat of his back, near his shoulderblade. A place, one should know, not easily reached by self-help alone. He staggered forward, pain lacerating him to the very depth of his being. His hair flopping forward as she doubled over a minute. Using the momentum, he reeled around to backhand Lavender viciously across the face. This was more a reflex than an actual attack on her with malice and ill-intent, something that Karston rarely allowed to show even when treated in the manner that the Madame had with their entire posse.
"DAMN YOU, WOMAN!" Cried Karston, pain was the least of his worries when he realized that the Constables men had begun to move in for restraint. Moving swiftly, Karston made to shove Lavender aside - moving away form the Constables men. "What right?! WHAT right does this waif have in ATTACKING me?! I have done nothing more than the rest of the men and yet she singles ME out and ATTACKS?! I am no criminal in her shadow, she was to kill me!" This wasn't all rock-solid, though.. blood was oozing from his wound - causing him to wince and shiver as the vitae cooled and the fabric of his neat and once clean frock stuck to his flesh. To reduce the level of pain, he let that arm hang at his side as he pointed at Lavender. "You, ma'am, have just made yourself an enemy for life." It was not so much as a threat than a promise. With that, using his manipulatory magicks, he would fling several pieces of overturned, ruined furniture toward the Constables' men as well as Lavender.
A reputation this man did make.
Does everything exist to be forgotten?
A man in black on a snow white horse...
Pointless life has run its course...