Fury had propelled Kacey back to the workshop. She had all but flung down her toolbox, much to Davarin's surprise, and then she had begun to rant as she stormed around the shop. Not much of it was coherent, but there was enough for him to get the gist of it. To understand what had happened to the Bevers, and what she intended to do about it.
Of course, some of those intentions went far beyond impractical. Kacey had no way to track down the person or people responsible for those padlocks, not personally. Nor did she have the ability to actually rip a person limb from limb. What she did have was knowledge of the Scathachian Sanctuary. Until now it had been little more in her mind than the source of the Scathachian patrols that haunted the West End.
Kacey launched herself from the workshop not into a run, but a stride brisk enough to cover ground rapidly. She didn't know whether Davarin followed or remained in the shop. She was almost blinded by the depths of her rage. Hair was pulling loose from her braid, lashing across her face unnoticed. Soot smeared her strong callused hands, and she balled them into fists and loosened them repeatedly as she walked. Combined with the set expression on her face, she probably looked a madwoman.
It was a fairly long walk, but it seemed only moments later to Kacey that she lifted her hand to pound on the door of the Sanctuary. She might never be able to get vengeance or even justice for the Bevers, but this looked to be the best hope.
((Prompted by the events in the posts "Tension' and "Redemption' of this thread. Edited to correctly direct to the posts.))
Of course, some of those intentions went far beyond impractical. Kacey had no way to track down the person or people responsible for those padlocks, not personally. Nor did she have the ability to actually rip a person limb from limb. What she did have was knowledge of the Scathachian Sanctuary. Until now it had been little more in her mind than the source of the Scathachian patrols that haunted the West End.
Kacey launched herself from the workshop not into a run, but a stride brisk enough to cover ground rapidly. She didn't know whether Davarin followed or remained in the shop. She was almost blinded by the depths of her rage. Hair was pulling loose from her braid, lashing across her face unnoticed. Soot smeared her strong callused hands, and she balled them into fists and loosened them repeatedly as she walked. Combined with the set expression on her face, she probably looked a madwoman.
It was a fairly long walk, but it seemed only moments later to Kacey that she lifted her hand to pound on the door of the Sanctuary. She might never be able to get vengeance or even justice for the Bevers, but this looked to be the best hope.
((Prompted by the events in the posts "Tension' and "Redemption' of this thread. Edited to correctly direct to the posts.))