Monday, March 12, 2012

Amythra 37

Amythra planted her hands on her hips and yelled again. "You put her down, Mister." Dreth was having some trouble registering how this little mume girl had such a loud voice, or if she was a mume. His losened the grip over Anna's face and she fell to the ground with a gasp. "What do you think yer do'n, grab'n people as if they were hunks of ham. S'no way to treat a smaller and you know it!"

Didn't make sense, Dreth thought. Well as close to thought as he could handle. Mumes don't usually yell at him.

"Is this how you were raised? Ta' drink and drink and pick on the smallers? Don' sound like a propper borc mother would'a taught you that!" Amythra walked up and poke the drunkard in the belly. "Not. At. T'all, Mister."

Hey, she can't bring his mum into..."Hey," He said, "you can't bring me mum into this. Ssss...She's not even in the city."

"And if she was? What then? This is what ya'de like her ta' see, is it? All thick-headed with beer an' sulk'n in the back ally of Annalow city covered in shame an' mume blood?"

Dreth dropped his arms. " ma'am."

"Clean yer'self up. You're a borc. The pride of the north. S'time ya' acted like it."

"Yss...yes ma'am." Dreth couldn't believe it. This mume was making a idiot of him. He didn't have to put up with this. He was a Borc, Pride of the North. He mouth flew open, his finger went up and...

"Nuh." It was a sharp sound. The sound of his mother warning him not to do what he was thinking about doing. "None'a that nonsense, now. Stand up straight. Now brush yer hair back. A little polish an' you could turn a few heads, ya' can be sure of that. Ya can't fight 'em, tho, Mr. Borc." Amythra dug in her pouch. "I got two bits, 'an that's all for the likes of you, but you're not to spend it on the drink, you hear me?"

"Y...Yes Ma'am."

"Yer' to take these down the street and get a pitcher of leaf juice from the diner. Sober yer'self up. You got a whole bundle of tomorrows to make it better. Now go."

Dreth weakly excepted the money and ducked out of the ally, frankly more sober than when he went in. Amythra sighed as he left. Borcs. They were the same no matter what town they were in. She pulled the map out from under her belt and looked at it again. "Shall we go?"

As for Anna, Roose, and Boose, the term "Slack-jawed" accurately applied.