Hanna froze at the Halve's outburst of anger.
Natasha's entire body started glowing brighter than the suns, and her eyes turned completely golden. She raised a hand and balled it into a fist.
Bonte and Pokora vanished from their spots immediately.
The Tigea had the foresight of taking the alcohol with him, however.
The Ork didn't know what to do.
Running wouldn't help. It's an angry Halve, after all! A Warrior Halve at that!!
Hanna closed her eyes, resigning herself to fate.
The instant stretched to a few seconds, then to a full minute.
Fate didn't come. Instead, a very deep breath and a very long sigh reached the Scout's ears.
“Okay... fine...” Natasha muttered, running her hands through her hair. “I'm cool. I'm fine,” she sighed. “I breathe in the calm and exhale the toxic,” she chanted and took deep breaths. “Nobody makes me angry but myself.”
Hanna cracked an eye open and saw the woman in front of her had a face that wouldn't forgive any slight. Not even from a newborn.
She was baring her teeth, her eyes were glaring at the table, her eyebrows were knitted so tightly they looked like lightning bolts, her nose was scrunched up, and her neck had a thick vein visibly pumping at a fast pace.
That was definitely not the face of someone who's cool and fine about the situation.
The Ork took it all in. The gold, the light, the anger, the attempt at control, the taught muscles struggling to release in the form of violence.
Still, Hanna was quite confused.
The Halve had shown no signs of anger when discussing those that attempted to kill her. Disdain, apathy, and derision would be the words Hanna would use to describe the reaction.
That was understandable. A Halve is a Higher Being, after all. Born and living at the top of the world, and looking down at it from their elevated positions. It would be natural, too, if they were arrogant.
Some were, most weren't.
Yulianna was, or so Hanna had heard. And with reason. Someone with such a high mastery over E'er and carrying such authority by virtue of existence would have all the rights to be arrogant in the Ork's eyes.
And yet the Halve in front of her was not quite like that. She had invited Hanna to sit at her table without much trouble. She hadn't demanded anything, but requested it. Every question was posed in a way such that the Scout had the option to refuse to answer.
Yet the mention of a nobody leaving her family had inflamed her in such a way that she was burning with anger almost in a literal sense.
Was Her Excellency an empathetic woman?
Hanna looked at Natasha's face for a few seconds.
That was not the case.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Those wrathful eyes were not those of a person feeling for another, but of someone remembering an old pain. A similar injustice, in a way.
That confused Hanna even more.
Natasha Novak was two months and fifteen days old if Hanna's source of information was to be believed in full.
Not a week had passed and the Halve had already found two partners.
There was no point in time that would indicate she was on the receiving end of a similar situation. Of having someone leave her without prior notice, not allowing closure in the slightest.
Parents? Halves do not have those. Galeia, the all-mother, does not abandon. It is both physically and spiritually impossible.
Gods? As far as Hanna knew, Natasha had not met any as of right now.
Lovers? Who would be the fool? What line would Natasha have to cross that would justify abandoning her? And who would agree to be with a Halve and still be put off by what their duty would entail?
Hanna was missing something. Things didn't quite make sense to her.
What would make a Halve this angry? No... What could?
A world-ending threat? Surely.
An abusing tyrant? Naturally.
War? Obviously.
A Giant invasion? Perhaps.
A random woman who was led astray and ended up abandoning her family? Made no sense.
Was Hanna looking at it the wrong way? Probably.
There was the option that the Halve had one too many houses built in her floating island, as the saying goes.
Perhaps the fact Hanna had taken her kill had affected her more than she let on. That and learning that there were three people aiming for her life instead of one. Maybe the news of the people planning to deny her service touched a nerve.
All that combined could have resulted in the last piece of information managing to boil her pot.
But Hanna didn't think the Halve would have such a low boiling point. They were a bunch of mortals, after all.
Unless Natasha had a short fuse to begin with...
Hanna smiled at the realization that maybe the Halve wasn't particularly weak-willed, but that she had low tolerance to the masses misbehaving.
The desire to know more took root in Hanna's heart. She wanted to unravel the mystery that was the woman in front of her.
To discover the many faces she could make.
Because an angry Halve was, to Hanna's opinion, the hottest thing there is.
A hand touching her shoulder brought Hanna back to reality.
She turned to the person only to find Bonte.
“Get over here!” He whispered with a panicked face.
Pokora was in the kitchen, hiding behind the fridge and gesturing at them to hurry and hide.
Once again, Hanna was confused. She raised an eyebrow. “What?” She uttered.
“Pokora,” Natasha called in a dead-serious voice.
The Elf cringed and sighed. She walked out of her hiding spot and placed a hand on her hip. “Yeah?”
“I need a calm mind,” the Halve continued. “How bad would it be if I torture Ines to death?”
“Pretty fucking yikes,” the Archer deadpanned.
The Warrior nodded. “Right,” she agreed and rubbed her chin.
Pokora walked over to the table while observing Natasha. “You cool?” She asked a few meters away.
Bonte made his way to Natasha and massaged her shoulders. “Breath in, buddy. Let's calm down.”
The halve took a deep breath and let it out.
The Tigea brought his hands to her ears and rubbed her earlobes. “Woosa... Think about positive things,” he whispered.
Natasha closed her eyes. “Not helping,” she muttered.
The man nodded, let her ears go, and slowly walked away.