Really, Kyrn wipes his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. His eyes are still caught on the anger-stricken face of the dazed Dunmer, and he wants to smile. But he doesn’t, because that would be rude. Isn’t like what he’s just done wasn’t rude, but let him think what he wants.
It isn’t the first time he’s been called a cheater, and definitely won’t be the last. Many people weren’t happy with an Altmer being the Dragonborn, and weren’t afraid to be vocal. Others, he heard in rumours, whispered in the dark of night, as if to not inflict his wrath. But Kyrn wasn’t, isn’t, dissatisfied with the information. He assumes, in their place, if a Nord had once again claimed the title, he would feel the same. Or similar, in a fashion. At least like this, he can prove them all wrong.
—”Seems to appear that I’ve won.”
He watches him, still, for a few moments longer. But then, he decides, the conversation’s over. His attribution is unrequired, now. He can return to his food, and continue on his journey. Like he was before, and like he will after.
Deeming that it, the Dragonborn turns away from Niro, unconcerned on whether he will attempt another attack. It’s not unusual, but he was swaying a fair amount. The fire pit’s already awaiting, and all it takes is a little Flame before it lights under his fingertips.
The nearest city is a quarter of a day’s walk, assuming you’re hasty.”
Ah, yes. Kyrn; Altmer, Dragonborn, and Professional Ass.
The world is still vaulting before his eyes, feet fumbling for a steady patch of ground and utterly failing. But Niro is a damned brawler with a record on the line and he is not going to be deterred by something as little as a potential concussion. (When you fight in the seediest taverns a living person can find, you don't tend to care much about “health” or “safety”, Nirova’s found.)
“No,” he grits out behind clenched teeth, but any effect it may have had is ruined by the fact the Dunmer can barely stand without swaying, “no you haven't fucking won. Because you cheated!”
Niro has long since stepped over ‘irritated’, politely scooted past ‘angry’, and landed firmly in ‘fucking pissed’. So, seeing the asshole responsible for all this shit turning his back on him? Then lighting a goddamn fire like he wasn’t even there anymore?
Really, he can't be held legally responsible if he attempts to murder him right here and then. Nirova’s already developing a twitch just below his eye.
“Listen here, dickweed, because I’m gonna be repeatin’ myself here.” Niro takes another unsteady step towards him, straightens himself to his full height (which is still fucking shorter gods damn it). “I want a brawl. A proper, no cheating assholes, brawl.”
He hesitates, just once, before his gaze flits back over to the goat waiting to be cooked and a snarl forms with new vigor. Fuckin’ goat eater he swears to all the gods he can name.
“And,” he inhales roughly, hands clenching into fists at his side, “I’m not leaving until I get it.” If getting a rematch entails trailing the entire forsaken earth, Niro’s going to take that fucking risk. Fight him. Right now, actually.
