[Open] Throwing Hands, A Way of Life

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Safiya Machado
Posts: 8
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2020 3:11 pm
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Race: Writer
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Writer: Mythic
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Tue Feb 18, 2020 11:13 pm

2nd of Dentis, 2719
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There was always that local shithead cannabis dealer.

Safiya hadn't been buying for long without the escort of her Yellow Eye compatriots, but she knew them by the look of them. They walked with an inflated sense of purpose, as if the plant by which they made their coin somehow made them better than their customers. Maybe, there were some customers, particularly the less level-headed and more stressed out of the bunch, that swore by their wares and made them feel important. Or, maybe they got some pussy on the side because of it and somehow, that gave them an entitled disposition. But, regardless of the reason, Safiya knew to hate them by the look of them. Of course she'd look for another, but in the here and now as she looked over the sack he was offering and the price, there was nothing in her mind but anger.

"Is'dat all, then? Way overpriced, ye know?" she commented, crossing her arms after she pushed the sack over to his side of the table. Safiya was seated at a center table in the Black Dove, where this shithead made it clear he was dealing some herb and cutting the owner in on some of the profits. She could see the twitch in the man's jaw and Safiya might've felt it in her own if she wasn't so amused by the turn in emotion. She felt it in her glamour, the man in front of her was a wick and trying much too hard to make a high profit on his wares. Was he like her? A tsat that diverged from their tribe? Or was he a tribal minion, looking out for his fellows? Either way, Safiya didn't like it, neither the wick himself or the prices he sold his wares at. She pushed forward with her glamour, a chuckle parting her lips as resolve poured within both the monic presence and her expression itself.

"Take it or leave it. I ain't fixin' prices for some bitch."

Oh?

There, Safiya at last felt a modicum of rage settle within her. The disrespect was unearned, in her objective assessment, and certainly, she'd stopped letting herself be disrespected when she left her tribe for the sake of it. She'd felt over-utilized and under-compensated there, and that in it of itself was disrespect. Now? Blatantly attacked by the push back on her glamour and words? Safiya saw little more than red. Always, she felt the aggression push on her friendly disposition. She'd felt attacked before, an unruly touch, efforts to steal from her, but it was being disrespected in civilized conversation that really grinds the witch's gears.

"Some bitch, ayy? Show ye a clockin' bitch I will," she affirmed before she threw up her feet. The witch kicked forward with all of her strength, both throwing herself back and the table forward and towards the shithead in front of her. Maybe, if she intended to get violent, it wasn't in her best interest to telegraph it, but nonetheless she did before she could help herself. The table swung forward and crashed into the ground, the other wick successfully dodging it with but a glancing effort on his part. Then, Safiya felt a shiver in her glamour accompanied by the wick movement of lips in front of her. The witch felt it in her bones as a smirk formed on the dealer's lips. She'd risen out of her chair and as the mona hoisted her towards him, she had every intention of dragging herself into the motion.

Safiya lunged forward, an unpractised hand flinging a fist forward, all of her weight thrown into the movement as she struck the man square in the jaw. She felt the impact reverberate throughout her fist and along her knuckles. She gritted her teeth, watching as the taller wick staggered backwards and she took her chance again. The witch brought up her leg, next, pushing her weight fully into the motion in an effort to throw the wick to the ground. A crowd formed around both the dealer and the witch, closing off retreat for the both of them. She found her foot make contact with his right rib, throwing him backwards, but with the motion, he'd instinctively brought down his arm. She fell forward with him, gliding into an awkward split just as he shifted his weight and brought a backhanded fist directly into her jawline.

Both wicks were strewn across the floor, Safiya struggling to hoist herself up as the other wick clutched at his side. The woman grabbed hold of the sack that'd fallen to the floor within her reach, laughter bubbling from her lips, but no further efforts for her to move were successful. Curiously, her gaze flitted about the Black Dove to assess the damage she'd caused, and she saw splatters of blood on the floor. From her, at least some of it came, her teeth cutting open her lip. Blood dribbled along her chin, but more critically, she felt an ache in her ribs. The witch made no immediate effort to move, collecting her breath as she watched the male slowly shift to a position on his back.

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