09.Apr.13, 03:35 PM
When Oahvakeen found himself the victim of verbal abuse, his eyes widened both in horror and indignation. Shouldn't he be upset he was being called mean names? Since when was he a 'scrawny runt'? He tried to summon up some courage. Nope. Nothing happened, so the indignation part fled his expression and he was just left with horror. This was the part where he should start running from the man who would surely be forever punching him in the face, throwing him in the trash, dropping him from 10,000 feet from a dragon. You know, the usual bully stuff.
Before he had time to react, he found the harp being shoved back into him. He made a grunt of effort as it hit his stomach lightly. Not enough to leave a bruise, but enough for Oahvakeen to identify that the harp was made with a hard metal, not cushy feathers.
"I-I-I...", he had begun to stammer. "I-I-I-....", he managed to back up a step, expecting a swing to come towards his face at any moment. His assured, calm, and collected facade was completely gone, showing the true Oahvakeen, one who was frightened, and small.
The man's speech changed, and he stared up in bewilderment, not sure what to expect now. When no fist came near his head, he figured out that the offer to find this someone who could give it to whomever the harp was meant for - he'd now forgotten - was a genuine one.
"Oahvakeen. I definitely did not piss my pants...", he returned the gesture, giving a long gulp. His pants were dry in the literal sense, but not in the figurative sense.
He waited for N'Kal to begin to lead the way to this someone who knew someone else who would get this heavy harp off of his hands.
Before he had time to react, he found the harp being shoved back into him. He made a grunt of effort as it hit his stomach lightly. Not enough to leave a bruise, but enough for Oahvakeen to identify that the harp was made with a hard metal, not cushy feathers.
"I-I-I...", he had begun to stammer. "I-I-I-....", he managed to back up a step, expecting a swing to come towards his face at any moment. His assured, calm, and collected facade was completely gone, showing the true Oahvakeen, one who was frightened, and small.
The man's speech changed, and he stared up in bewilderment, not sure what to expect now. When no fist came near his head, he figured out that the offer to find this someone who could give it to whomever the harp was meant for - he'd now forgotten - was a genuine one.
"Oahvakeen. I definitely did not piss my pants...", he returned the gesture, giving a long gulp. His pants were dry in the literal sense, but not in the figurative sense.
He waited for N'Kal to begin to lead the way to this someone who knew someone else who would get this heavy harp off of his hands.
-- fade out / exit --