Anthem of the Lonely
11-20-2015, 10:37 PM
He didn't want to assume anything and there was no way he was going to ask, but Odysseus wasn't liking the vibe he was getting from this woman. He didn't like the way she smelled of someone else, he didn't like her wounds and he most certainly didn't like her reaction to him or the words she'd used. There was a part of him - a very strong part of him - that wished to get the story out of the woman and then leave her in Olafur's care while he went to see who he assumed was an attacker about a much deserved mauling. Rapists - and he was perhaps getting ahead of himself in assuming - but rapists were, in his mind, the lowest of the low. They were unfit to tread earth and deserved to be put down. That kind of filth wasn't to be tolerated. Nothing but the most hellish of deaths was fitting for such a disgusting creature. Finally those bright eyes peeked out at him again. Odysseus peered back, his crimson gaze filled with nothing but compassion. "Miss," he said gently. "It would be my honor." Afraid of scaring her Odysseus didn't move a muscle. He'd let her move at her own pace and come to him when she was ready. "My name is Odysseus and this is my friend Olafur." Uncharacteristically Olafur was equally patient. In preparation he laid out his bundle of things and nonchalantly began organizing it into piles based on possible need. There wasn't a lot in there, so after a few seconds of sorts he simply fiddled with the piles and nitpicked at their placement all the while avoiding eye contact with the woman. |