She was sure the Jemangs [the familys name] had been terrified of her when they had encountered her -after all, she had looked less than human, or even Teleporter. Ziarre had spent roughly a year in the wilds and she reverted to the most primitive state possible for a human with a mass of tangled, matted, and dirty hair and a second skin of filth. Her clothes had been mutilated -she had long stopped caring about what she looked like, as long as she lived. There was little that set her apart from the thoughtless barbarian to a creature who did, indeed, think. Even if she didn't think well, she did think.
In all honesty, she had been amused by their shock and horror. Their appearance whet her odd desire for human interaction -not because she was lonely, but she missed the amusement and the entertainment they provided her. So, with a mouth that took nearly a minute to remember how to speak proper Common, she told them she wasn't a threat. Ziarre than asked that once she had a bath a such if she could travel with them to where ever they were headed, and when they stupidly revealed they were being chased, Ziarre immediately thought that the people would serve as much better entertainment than originally thought. After some negotiations, a very thorough bath and new clothes she was back to looking more like a human.
Ziarre lolled in the back of the wagon, her feet dangling outside it. The wagon itself was making slow progress through the narrow trail and it managed to hit every rock and rut in existence. Ziarre almost considered walking, her spear resting in its compact form beside her. She tossed back her head and let out a throaty groan of boredom and frustration.
"This is it? You said there were people after you. They better come fucking quick. I'm tired of waiting!" Her brows raised sharply over her fierce eyes, her lips pulling back in a gesture that resembled a smile, but the meaning was completely different. It was a predatory baring of teeth, a display of anticipation, anxiety and frustration. She desired bloodshed, not the rough movement of a wagon ride.
"How can you say such a thing?" Lady Jemang gasped, looking alarmed by Ziarre's bellicose nature.
"Because I can speak?" Ziarre answered what she thought was a stupid question with another. Jemang gave her a disdainful, scornful look before turning back to her... knitting? Whatever it was it was the most mundane task Ziarre had ever laid her eyes on. She'd be damned if she'd ever do it.
Ziarre knew there was another guard who was recently hired. She didn't know him. She had no real want to know him. All she needed to know was what he looked like so she didn't accidentally kill him in a fight. That was and since she'd already memorized his appearance, his smell [what she could smell of him, anyway. her nose didn't work as good as used too] and the sounds he made, how he walked and a lot more observational crap that was pretty much second nature to her after all these centuries of living.
And then it came. Her head tilted, holding her breath as she heard the sounds. They had balls all right. It was during the day. Or maybe that was it, to throw them off guard. But Ziarre knew of a thousand better ways than to destroy some people than this way. Hell, they had this family terrified -that was already a plus. They could drive them nuts, keeping them awake all night so they'd be tired, exhausted, driving them into paranoia and into paralyzing fear. Why come during the day? It made it less fun. She wondered if they were testing the new bodyguards when they could see everything better, get a look at their faces and see clearly what weapons they used. Just to check them out.
They neared and Ziarre's blood was boiling. She could hear them faintly. She could almost taste them. They were good, moving fast and light but there were too many steps, too many people to be merely animals. They were all following them, too. Or maybe they were just bandits. But the contract did say, 'keep us safe' not kill any specific persons. Which was good. The more bloodshed the merrier she could be.
Ziarre crawled to the front of the wagon. She couldn't very well let the horses be killed -they were useful both dead and alive. But to them, they were best needed alive. She waited. She listened. And when that first arrow flew for the horses side, she was disappointed. She merely lengthened her spear, knocked it away and jerked the beast to a stop. It screamed and rolled its eyes in panic. She wanted to snarl at it, but that'd simply make things worse. Horses only knew they should run from predators. Only predators knew how to respond to other predators.
The skirmish itself was quick as she burst out of the wagon in a frenzy of energy and boredom and the bright glare of silver. She brought down the blade with centuries of skill and experience, of long decades and hard, lean years on the street. She remembered those days with each swing, slash and every moment of bloodletting. It barely sated her, however. They had no skill. They were mere bandits, too desperate to care it was day, too stupid too realize who they were and Ziarre was too frustrated and bored to leave them alive.
When that fight was finished she set to work cleaning her spear, the faithful instrument that dictated whether she lived or died. With a rare softness, some possible distant cousin to tenderness she eased off the blood with a rag, wiping it away and cleaning its intricate metal body. When she was finished she set aside her spear, contracting it to its short, club-like form where it was less of an inconvenience to carry around. She licked the blood from her hands and idly wiped away the blood from her face. She tilted back her head and nearly roared.
"That was a waste of energy," she drawled, her eyes flashing. The first day she's back into commission she gets bandits. Bandits, for heavens' sake! How ridiculous.
She glanced at the other guard. Her eyes and face were flat, just as her voice became. "What the hell is your name again?" She asked. That was one detail she missed. Then again, after awhile she stopped caring about details because it always made the fight more of a challenge when there were surprises.
[there ya go, Twitchy]
