closed starter for @solartiara
Of all the natural laws that govern the physical world, gravity has always treated Corvo particularly well, despite the claims of many that it was a cruel mistress—so many, in fact, that those claims had become something of an aphorism, a canny turn of phrase for canny people.
What other people failed to see that it was it took little more than a bit of unconventional thinking to make gravity work for him.
In this case, Corvo employed gravity’s inexorable pull to send his entire body weight into the back of a man who was currently threatening a strange young woman with a pocketknife.
Corvo sticks the landing with what he considers to be considerable grace—and the unpleasant crunch of the man buckling beneath his feet. It is enough to give the man’s two accomplices—thugs with more muscle than brain matter, men easily swayed by acts of naked violence—pause, as they regard him and his wooden sword. He glances back, over his shoulder, to the woman—no, girl, surely straight-backed and proud, but a girl nonetheless.
“You’re out late.” His voice is muffled somewhat by the angular mask he wears, but his dry tone is as clear as the moon shining down upon all of them.
