hesitation is defeat
Ishida’s glare never wavered and the sharp point of her brows never loosened.
The only twitch of emotion that managed at the corner of her lips was a flash of a grin — her gamble had succeeded. She’d been playing a dangerous game from the first crab sandwich, dabbling in restraint. It seemed to be paying off. The lines of the secondary problematic nucleus quivered and trembled, but they did not grow. They did not become more violent.
Sharp and gleaming, bright and white, there was something unruly and barbaric about that conniving smile.
On cue, Ishida braced. Her muscles tensed and she prepared for an attack. Her wrist was the first to feel it, the sheer strength behind the yank was enough to pull her rigid self in. She expected to feel the bones on her forearm crushed, or her fingers to break, and with her free arm, she began her reach over her back to get —
Sheer alarm flashed half a heartbeat before the insane happened. Not even enough time for a surprised noise to hop out, but with wide eyes, Ishida felt her shock against the atrociously non consensual action to her FACE — to her MOUTH! Aside from the physical assault, the woman’s intensity was rife with the taste of seafood. All the emotion seemed to amplify the horrible experience.
Ishida’s fist in Mercy’s grip tightened, yanking and shaking her protest. Her face went red with shame, and redder with anger. Her stomach and throat knotted, violently responding to the blight on a precious intimacy not meant to be shared with the red-headed neanderthal. She’d always been so protective and intentional of her space and self, that this was an insult she’d never even considered. It boiled her blood to such a degree that she felt the fire surge on her tongue and she gnashed back.
Then, as soon as it had happened, it was over.
Extreme imbalance on multiple planes made Ishida uneasy, and she was shoved backward. Stumbling and furious, the little Knight was purely undone in a sputtering mess of brightened nerves and a tenuously contained temper.
Instantly, she spat out all that heat the affront had culminated. Indignant rage hardened behind her ribs, and harshened against the teeth she flashed. Her mouth curled back into a sharp snarl, and her aching wrist smeared against her lips to destroy any lingering effects of the slight.
“How dare you.” Ishida snarled after the broad back of the assailant, clenching her fingers angrily against the tablecloth and curling it into her knuckles. A few plates shifted. Ishida considered hurling the platter at the head of her pride's assassin.
If only she hadn’t finished her tea! She needed something, anything, i m m e d i a t e l y, to wash out the disgrace on her lips.
Escalation had been brewing among the crowds, and whatever level of calm Ishida had managed to achieve was completely awash now. All she wanted was revenge for the insult to her dignity. She was positively beside herself.
She would have much rather been stabbed!
Her fists shook with rage that burned from her fingertips, through to her shoulders and down her spine. Warmth from the anger and embarrassment coloured her countenance, and all she could see was the hateful silhouette of the mountain walking away. She watched to make sure she didn’t turn around.
Deep breaths.
Deep breaths. Trembling through her breathing exercises, Ishida slowly, slowly, slowly, felt her wrath quell.
If she gave in now, the entire delicate dance would have been for nought. Hatred's beckon, and pride's allure would overcome the day and the crowds would be the victims of chaos on a day meant to remember and honour.
What a horrible dilemma.
