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A Twisted Sense of Duty
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A Twisted Sense of Duty
Jial breathed a heavy breath as she stepped into her hometown. The smell of blood was still fresh in her memory from the people she had swept through. She played with her balisong knives as she walked. Her eyes following the blades as she rather enjoyed this game of hers. Spinning and tricking faster, and faster until she started to loose track of the blades.
She moved toward where her old house once stood, but it was gone. No doubt torn down because of the horrid memories she left in it. She looked no too far off to see the old Inn. She trudged over to it and pushed open the door. The smell of liquor and sweat mingled in the air. Jial traced her eyes over the Inn and noted everyone's position, visible weapons, and threat level.
She moved inside and sat at the first table, near a man not much, if at all, older than herself. She shifted her rifle to one side, so she could sit comfortably. She flipped her blades upside down and rammed them both into the solid wood table. She sat down and crossed one leg over the other as she ordered a drink from the bar.
The waitress returned with her drink and Jial took it politely. The waitress paused as she looked at Jial, as if she was trying to remember something. Jial took a sip of her whiskey and then looked at the waitress.
"You seem to be fumbling with a question," Jial said. "May I inquire as to what the question may be?"
The waitress looked uncomfortable. She gripped her checkbook harder than needed, which signified her uneasiness. A small bead of sweat appeared above her left eyebrow, and her eyes dulled in contrast to how she looked before walking up to Jial.
"May I ask your name Miss?" The waitress asked.
Jial smiled and downed the entire glass of whiskey. She winced from the heat that traveled down her throat and then looked at the waitress. "Jialsianna Ashlynne Rosaline," Jial replied. The color drained from the Waitress' face. She turned and went back to her duties. Jial flipped her glass upside down.
She moved toward where her old house once stood, but it was gone. No doubt torn down because of the horrid memories she left in it. She looked no too far off to see the old Inn. She trudged over to it and pushed open the door. The smell of liquor and sweat mingled in the air. Jial traced her eyes over the Inn and noted everyone's position, visible weapons, and threat level.
She moved inside and sat at the first table, near a man not much, if at all, older than herself. She shifted her rifle to one side, so she could sit comfortably. She flipped her blades upside down and rammed them both into the solid wood table. She sat down and crossed one leg over the other as she ordered a drink from the bar.
The waitress returned with her drink and Jial took it politely. The waitress paused as she looked at Jial, as if she was trying to remember something. Jial took a sip of her whiskey and then looked at the waitress.
"You seem to be fumbling with a question," Jial said. "May I inquire as to what the question may be?"
The waitress looked uncomfortable. She gripped her checkbook harder than needed, which signified her uneasiness. A small bead of sweat appeared above her left eyebrow, and her eyes dulled in contrast to how she looked before walking up to Jial.
"May I ask your name Miss?" The waitress asked.
Jial smiled and downed the entire glass of whiskey. She winced from the heat that traveled down her throat and then looked at the waitress. "Jialsianna Ashlynne Rosaline," Jial replied. The color drained from the Waitress' face. She turned and went back to her duties. Jial flipped her glass upside down.
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