Somewhere in the back streets of Draega. Hayll, Terreille.

[harpy_daughter]

Surreal was rather sure she was going to want to kill someone when this was all over, and it was most likely going to be herself.

Her opponent couldn't match her mastery of Titian's knifework, for which Surreal felt a fierce surge of pride, but she was getting her ass handed to her in hand-to-hand. Repeatedly. Her bruises had bruises.

"I hate you," she said, conversationally, for about the thousandth time as she hauled herself off the cobblestones and brushed dirt off her face before settling back into a ready stance. "I could be bonding with my fellow students right now over yet another cultural experience that I have no context to understand, but no. You got lonely and missed my smile and company."

Oh, she was so going to get thwapped for that.

[OOC: NFB, for the teacher.]

Comments

[harpy-daughter.livejournal.com]

He was trying to teach her, not beat her to death. Surreal wasn't worried about a kick to the ribs while she was down.

"I wonder where she would have gotten the idea that you misbehave," she replied dryly. "I can't imagine you being anything less than a Courtly gentleman."

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. No.

[sadist-son.livejournal.com]

"Looking back on the stream of foul language that was pouring from your mouth that day, I find it difficult to believe that you don't possess the capacity to imagine anything you please," Sadi commented, idly lifting his hand to brush a spot of dust from his sleeve. "Lucivar and I are of course, always at our best behaviour."

Which was, naturally, why they were so rarely seen in the same building at the same time.