|Title: Kent's Scar
Author: Nezumi <:3~
Notes: From Syl's POV, inspired by Tenshi
Kent is showing off to the barmaids again, as I sit in a dark corner and make sure he doesn't kill himself somehow. It's difficult work - he's talented.
"Ah yes, we are great adventurers," he tells them. Kent gives his biggest smile to his attentive (and busty) audience. It's a small town, what can I say? Besides, there is no accounting for taste.
"We?" one of the barmaids queries coquettishly, Kent is sooo oblivious, "Do you have another friend with you?"
"Of course!" he says as the women sit up in excitement, "Syl!" He points at me, and disappointment and surprise covers their faces. I smirk on the inside.
"Ohhhhh," the women mourn, "So you're with her?"
"'With her?'" Kent asks innocently, "I travel with her. Syl is my assistant."
"Not a romantic interest?" one says hopefully.
"Errr, no," Kent replies in confusion.
"Oh!" they say and crowd around him like vultures. I shudder - they creep me out. I don't think Kent is in trouble yet, though.
"So what kind of adventuring do you do?"
"We're treasure hunters!" he says, standing up a little straighter.
"Do you have any battle scars?" one purrs, running her fingers up his armů he doesn't seem to notice. He's so na´ve.
"Do I?!" he cries. Oh no, this can't be what I think it is.
He launches into his story, jumping up on the table and dislodging the leechy girls hanging on to him. I snicker quietly and receive a few glares from the displaced young women. Eh.
"There I was, a young lad just patrolling our lands, when a monster reared up out of the woods. It was going for our land's lord! I would not and could not let that happen, so I leaped at the vile creature and wrestled it to the ground. Eventually I scared it off, being a bit young to kill it, you know. But in the process I got this!" with that he throws open his shirt to reveal a set of claw marks thick with scar tissue running a short distance across his chest. One of the women faints. Wimp.
"Ohhhhh," the rest sigh, impressed.
I roll my eyes. I remember it differently.
I was seven, and Kent was eight at the time.
"Kent, don't do that," I told him as I saw him stalking our resident tomcat, "He's a mean kitty when he's scared."
"I'll get you, Monster" I heard him mutter.
Then he pounced. Kent grabbed the tom's tail and began to pull and chew on it.
The cat hissed and I looked away. Soon after I heard Kent cry out.
When I looked back, Kent was sitting on the ground, trying not to cry, and the tom was running away, triumph in his strut.
I sighed when I saw his chest. The tom had made it through his shirt and left a nasty cat scratch. I grabbed Kent's hand and took him to my mother, who had a bit of the healing skill in her. She patched him up, but was unable to prevent some scarring.
Hence his scar. Monster indeed.
The girls are fawning over him still. Don't they get sick of doing that?
"You're all so nice," he smiles at them, "Well, g'night all." And with that he walks off, still unaware of the reaction he has caused. The women look after him in shock.
I snicker - sometimes he is so entertaining to have around. The barmaids turn to glare at me all of them this time.
"So, what do you have that we don't?" they ask, as they look me up and down.
"Brains and integrity," I tell them and make my way out of the room before I'm killed. Death by stupidity - that's definitely not my cup of tea.