10-26-2019, 11:46 AM
She was still watching the screens when the inquisitor rescinded his invitation, his anger molten. Tenzin did not enjoy the fractious atmosphere, like adolescent cubs taking swipes while the adults were busy, and made some disgruntled sound in her throat. Hunting a channeler alone was foolish, particularly if this inquisitor didn’t even know for sure whether Durante had a pack around him. Rākṣasa hatyārā did not always have cause to work together, and like any normal grouping of men and women, when the quarry demanded cooperation amongst disparate souls there were grievances. But they were rarely do disrespectful in public.
Tenzin stood smoothly, frowning, dismayed with the pair of them. She had seen the slip of a girl sneaking out of the house the inquisitor watched so avidly, and noted his reaction. That didn’t much please her either, but in the presence of a brother’s anger she only formally inclined her head, acknowledging the rough dismissal. The Athari’s hierarchy was not her own, and she witnessed much she considered wrong this side of the world, but nonetheless she erred towards formality.
The scent of another warned her only a moment before the voice. She caught Jacinda’s arm, too late to save the stranger’s face, but enough to pin her partner’s arm from a second strike. Or to take it, if Jacinda was not finished punching civilians. They could argue that one later. Tenzin understood the instinct; her expression made that plain. And the woman had touched first. “Trouble,” she grumbled a reminder. Jacinda had shrugged off her words earlier, all charm and bluff, and it had been somewhat of a joke. She wasn’t surprised either, though.
Her dark eyes glanced behind at the stranger, cautious of retaliation, poised to intervene further if she found it necessary. Her nostrils flared, unsure of the heat within, and ignoring it for now. Control was a pillar of her life, though this was not usually one of the more base instincts she struggled with.
Tenzin stood smoothly, frowning, dismayed with the pair of them. She had seen the slip of a girl sneaking out of the house the inquisitor watched so avidly, and noted his reaction. That didn’t much please her either, but in the presence of a brother’s anger she only formally inclined her head, acknowledging the rough dismissal. The Athari’s hierarchy was not her own, and she witnessed much she considered wrong this side of the world, but nonetheless she erred towards formality.
The scent of another warned her only a moment before the voice. She caught Jacinda’s arm, too late to save the stranger’s face, but enough to pin her partner’s arm from a second strike. Or to take it, if Jacinda was not finished punching civilians. They could argue that one later. Tenzin understood the instinct; her expression made that plain. And the woman had touched first. “Trouble,” she grumbled a reminder. Jacinda had shrugged off her words earlier, all charm and bluff, and it had been somewhat of a joke. She wasn’t surprised either, though.
Her dark eyes glanced behind at the stranger, cautious of retaliation, poised to intervene further if she found it necessary. Her nostrils flared, unsure of the heat within, and ignoring it for now. Control was a pillar of her life, though this was not usually one of the more base instincts she struggled with.