#I MEAN HE STARTED IT AND SOLVEIG JUST ENDED IT she did nothing wrong officer xDD

[viitlumi]

❝ you took those bastards down like it was nothing. it…was amazing. ❞ @ solveig

Her face pulsated, blood streaming from her right nostril, but Solveig grinned as she looped her arm around Jean and the two of them departed from the scene. She erupted in raucous laughter, like a blissful child who had been blessed with a pet of its own for the first time.

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The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the cobblestone streets of the city. Lanterns flickered to life, their soft light illuminating the bustling market square where vendors were packing up their stalls for the night. The air was filled with a mix of savory scents from nearby food stalls, the distant laughter of children playing, and the rhythmic clatter of hooves on the stone as a horse-drawn carriage made its way down the narrow lane. Solveig and Jean strolled in a leisurely fashion through the square, their conversation punctuated by the occasional greeting from passersby who recognized the young woman as part of the alliance. As they continued walking, Solveig pondered the unlikely rapport she had forged with Jean. Despite her characteristically aloof and frigid manner, she had grown to appreciate Jean's straightforward demeanor and capacity for emotive resilience. Both had witnessed and endured more than their share of hardships, and in each other they strangely found a kindred spirit who understood the weight of their burden without having to say much. She wouldn't call it a blossoming friendship of any kind, but it strengthened their camaraderie — after all, both of them were on the ground on the same side, and engaging in conflict with allied combatants was a foolish stance to take. As they moved away from the busy square, the streets grew quieter, lined with quaint shops and taverns that were beginning to fill with the evening crowd. The brick buildings, with their ivy-covered facades and flower boxes under the windows, exuded a charming, old-world feel. The cool evening breeze carried the faint sound of a violin playing in a distant tavern, adding a touch of serenity to the scene. It was at this moment of tranquility that their path was blocked by three shadowy figures, their intentions clear from the menacing grins and the glint of steel in their hands. The lead thug, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, his voice a low growl. "Hand over everything you've got, and no one gets hurt." Solveig's initial reaction to the sudden threat was a combination of irritation and amusement. Irritation at the audacity of the thugs who dared to interrupt her rare moment of peace, and amusement at their apparent ignorance of who they were dealing with. She had faced far greater dangers than these petty criminals, and the thought of them attempting to rob her and Jean was almost laughable. With a raised eyebrow and a smirk playing on her lips, Solveig addressed the lead thug. "You must be joking," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Not willing to waste any more good time with these cretins, Solveig pushed past the leader, motioning Jean to follow her and disregard them while her eyes were fixed on the path ahead. She was determined to move on, dismissing them as nothing more than a nuisance. But before she could take another step, she felt a sharp, stinging blow as the thug's hand struck her in the face. The force of the blow sent her reeling, and her nose immediately began to bleed. There was silence for a moment as Solveig put her fingers to her nose and felt the warm blood running down. Slowly, she looked back up at the bat, her eyes blazing with fury. “Big mistake,” she muttered in a low, throaty voice, and prepared to teach the thugs a lesson they would not soon forget.

Solveig inhaled deeply and channeled her anger into a calm, focused energy. She would not draw her axe; this was personal now. Her underlying muscles, hidden beneath the layers of her clothing, tensed like a spring. The thug, emboldened by his first success, struck at her again. This time Solveig was ready. She dodged his clumsy blow with ease and countered with a quick, powerful blow to his solar plexus that took his breath away. The thug doubled over and gasped for air. As the second thug lunged at her, she grabbed his arm, twisted it painfully behind his back and delivered a sharp kick to the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground. Her movements were precise and efficient, each strike and grip executed with the skill of an experienced fighter. The third thug hesitated, wondering if he should attack. Solveig didn't give him a chance to react. She closed the distance between them at lightning speed and gave him a powerful uppercut that flung him to the ground. “You took those bastards down like it was nothing. it…was amazing”, she heard Jean in awe as Solveig took out the thugs with remarkable ease. Her suave countenance and svelte exterior belied her tremendous strength and prowess. She turned to Jean and wiped the blood from her nose with the back of her hand, her expression a mixture of irritation and satisfaction. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she could feel herself starting to feel a tad nauseated, but assured the male that everything was alright. After all, she had suffered far harder knocks than a slap in the face from a delinquent. “Let's get out of here,” she said calmly, as if nothing unusual had just happened, when she urged him to leave the scene with laughter released from her throat and an arm wrapped around him, before the men would decide to get up and chase them down. “But… don't tell Vito, please.”