01-18-2018, 07:53 AM
Tenzin shrugged; she wasn't spoiling for a fight over ideology, she was just being open with her own values. "Not bad thing. But might is big word. We learn from past, sure. But not live in it."
Jacinda had stopped herself short; not mid sentence or anything, but there was lots roiling beneath her surface; Tenzin could scent the subtle changes in her emotions, but didn't know how to interpret it. Her head tilted, considering as she watched Jacinda down the rest of her drink. She didn't think it was as a result of something she'd said; the reaction was too visceral for that.
Then their conversation took a serious turn. Passion emblazoned every word. Tenzin thought about it, remembering to temper her own furious opinions and the defence burning on the tip of her tongue. In fact she didn't disagree with the danger, and nothing Jacinda said was untrue. She wore the same mark on her wrist, had sworn the same oaths, and walked the same balance. But she saw things through a different lens; one difficult to share, all things considered, and so she was wary to pursue it too far. Instead she choose to diffuse the situation. "Huge colossal dick."
She laughed, about to say something else to lighten the serious cast to the mood, when Jacinda's hand slipped and the mug shattered across the floor. Tenzin unfurled from her chair to help, just as the woman pitched forward and smacked her head. She didn't move after.
"Ah, silly pup."
Tenzin shifted the table out the way to crouch down, china crunching beneath her boots. She brushed the blonde strands from her face, grimed by dust and blood. The woman seemed out cold. And her shoulder wound was still leaking sluggish black, a poor combination with the alcohol and smacking her head. Nothing broke the skin across her forehead, though she'd probably have a bad bruise to add to the collection. Tenzin gently shook her good shoulder to encourage her back, hoping she hadn't hurt herself badly. Still talking, though she assumed Jacinda would be oblivious to that. "Frustrated because new task is impossible. Can't kill all. And since when did genocide cause good? Nowhere, never. We protect good. Man is both. Spirit-touched is both. And others. Make task difficult? Sure. But not impossible. Sometimes protect is not death. Just easy option. Everything different bad, yes? Pft. So we tell ourself."
She understood the sense of loss, though; Jacinda might couch it in different terms, but she pined for the remains of her pack. That Tenzin understood, very well. "But, don't need to agree. Need to wake up. Come on. Not time for sleeping now. Let me help you clean up."
Her ears perked for signs of consciousness. Her breathing was okay, but sometimes head injuries could be worse than they appeared.
Jacinda had stopped herself short; not mid sentence or anything, but there was lots roiling beneath her surface; Tenzin could scent the subtle changes in her emotions, but didn't know how to interpret it. Her head tilted, considering as she watched Jacinda down the rest of her drink. She didn't think it was as a result of something she'd said; the reaction was too visceral for that.
Then their conversation took a serious turn. Passion emblazoned every word. Tenzin thought about it, remembering to temper her own furious opinions and the defence burning on the tip of her tongue. In fact she didn't disagree with the danger, and nothing Jacinda said was untrue. She wore the same mark on her wrist, had sworn the same oaths, and walked the same balance. But she saw things through a different lens; one difficult to share, all things considered, and so she was wary to pursue it too far. Instead she choose to diffuse the situation. "Huge colossal dick."
She laughed, about to say something else to lighten the serious cast to the mood, when Jacinda's hand slipped and the mug shattered across the floor. Tenzin unfurled from her chair to help, just as the woman pitched forward and smacked her head. She didn't move after.
"Ah, silly pup."
Tenzin shifted the table out the way to crouch down, china crunching beneath her boots. She brushed the blonde strands from her face, grimed by dust and blood. The woman seemed out cold. And her shoulder wound was still leaking sluggish black, a poor combination with the alcohol and smacking her head. Nothing broke the skin across her forehead, though she'd probably have a bad bruise to add to the collection. Tenzin gently shook her good shoulder to encourage her back, hoping she hadn't hurt herself badly. Still talking, though she assumed Jacinda would be oblivious to that. "Frustrated because new task is impossible. Can't kill all. And since when did genocide cause good? Nowhere, never. We protect good. Man is both. Spirit-touched is both. And others. Make task difficult? Sure. But not impossible. Sometimes protect is not death. Just easy option. Everything different bad, yes? Pft. So we tell ourself."
She understood the sense of loss, though; Jacinda might couch it in different terms, but she pined for the remains of her pack. That Tenzin understood, very well. "But, don't need to agree. Need to wake up. Come on. Not time for sleeping now. Let me help you clean up."
Her ears perked for signs of consciousness. Her breathing was okay, but sometimes head injuries could be worse than they appeared.
![[Image: twolf.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/twolf.jpg)
|Tenzin|
If they stand behind you, protect them; if they stand beside you, respect them; if they stand against you, destroy them.