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Description
She had fallen face first in dew-ridden grass, her glasses pushing against the bridge of her nose, causing momentary pain (but pain nonetheless). She lay there, taking in what had just happened, ignoring the swelling pain of her nose, she breathed heavily, watching the strands of black hair flowing up and down in front of her eyes. Her trance was interrupted by a voice. More specifically, a young man's voice.

The voice asked her "Where did you come from?" his voice was teasing, as if he was joking around with her. Too bad Mary was not in the mood for jokes at all, she got up hastily, her shoulder exposed due to her sleeve being dragged down far too much (as to which she fixed quite fast) and her jeans were torn and smeared with grass stains.

What the man was wearing was far too exposing for Mary's cold eyes. All he wore was animal skin torn to fit around his hips (and it was torn rather badly to add, and it smelled rather ghastly), the "clothing" was held up by a strap of more skin with leaves and twigs sticking through it.

"WH…where did I come from!?" she said, her voice breathy and hoarse, "where in the hell did YOU come from?!And...And what are you wearing?! Dear god, have some dignity!" She rambled as she looked down frowning deeply, suddenly fascinated in the texture of the grass.

The young man sighed, his long orange-brown hair slightly covering his long elven ears. He looked crestfallen, as if he had just been brought horrible news, "I guess I am wearing a little more than I usually do, but that's only because it's my mother's yearly ceremonial feast…" he chuckled slightly as he stepped towards her, an evil glint shimmering in his smoldering brown eyes. "…Now, instead of commenting on my clothing, why don't you question yours, hmm? It seems you're wearing even more than I am." He snickered to himself, thinking he was quite the "brilliant" man.

Mary was appalled at this man; He claimed he was wearing a "little more" when he was wearing practically nothing! She was screaming inside until the question passed through her ears and clicked into her brain. Had he just made a comment about her clothing!? "Unlike you, I'd like to cover the parts I consider 'private' with something known as a sweater. It covers your chest area and it keeps you warm" her voice all the wall sarcastic, she finished by saying "why, it's quite the bargain!" she frowned deeply, her mouth contorting into a tight line. She was obviously not enjoying the young, handsome but cocky mans company.

It was now the man's turn to be appalled. Was he…was he being mocked? "Why, how dare she!" , he thought to himself quietly, his grin disappearing into a low pout. He muttered angrily in a low voice, making sure his sour female "guest" wouldn't hear "can't believe I even considered helping the atrocious little…thing". Mary had raised a questioning eyebrow, her arms crossed over in a disapproving manner, though she knew that man had done nothing, she still despised him.

She knew why for it had happened before. It was her...Problem. She hated talking about it, but Mary had a horrible case of bipolar. She hated people she met at first but liked them soon after and then (you can guess) she hated them again. She had no control, and that made her lost in anger and rage. She snapped out of her self-pitying faze when she heard the stranger babble something loud and incoherent. As she opened her mouth to yell a rude "What?!" she blacked out, the last thing she saw was a man. A much more menacing man; His scarred hands looming over to cover her mouth and face.

Description
She had fallen face first in dew-ridden grass, her glasses pushing against the bridge of her nose, causing momentary pain (but pain nonetheless). She lay there, taking in what had just happened, ignoring the swelling pain of her nose, she breathed heavily, watching the strands of black hair flowing up and down in front of her eyes. Her trance was interrupted by a voice. More specifically, a young man's voice.

The voice asked her "Where did you come from?" his voice was teasing, as if he was joking around with her. Too bad Mary was not in the mood for jokes at all, she got up hastily, her shoulder exposed due to her sleeve being dragged down far too much (as to which she fixed quite fast) and her jeans were torn and smeared with grass stains.

What the man was wearing was far too exposing for Mary's cold eyes. All he wore was animal skin torn to fit around his hips (and it was torn rather badly to add, and it smelled rather ghastly), the "clothing" was held up by a strap of more skin with leaves and twigs sticking through it.

"WH…where did I come from!?" she said, her voice breathy and hoarse, "where in the hell did YOU come from?!And...And what are you wearing?! Dear god, have some dignity!" She rambled as she looked down frowning deeply, suddenly fascinated in the texture of the grass.

The young man sighed, his long orange-brown hair slightly covering his long elven ears. He looked crestfallen, as if he had just been brought horrible news, "I guess I am wearing a little more than I usually do, but that's only because it's my mother's yearly ceremonial feast…" he chuckled slightly as he stepped towards her, an evil glint shimmering in his smoldering brown eyes. "…Now, instead of commenting on my clothing, why don't you question yours, hmm? It seems you're wearing even more than I am." He snickered to himself, thinking he was quite the "brilliant" man.

Mary was appalled at this man; He claimed he was wearing a "little more" when he was wearing practically nothing! She was screaming inside until the question passed through her ears and clicked into her brain. Had he just made a comment about her clothing!? "Unlike you, I'd like to cover the parts I consider 'private' with something known as a sweater. It covers your chest area and it keeps you warm" her voice all the wall sarcastic, she finished by saying "why, it's quite the bargain!" she frowned deeply, her mouth contorting into a tight line. She was obviously not enjoying the young, handsome but cocky mans company.

It was now the man's turn to be appalled. Was he…was he being mocked? "Why, how dare she!" , he thought to himself quietly, his grin disappearing into a low pout. He muttered angrily in a low voice, making sure his sour female "guest" wouldn't hear "can't believe I even considered helping the atrocious little…thing". Mary had raised a questioning eyebrow, her arms crossed over in a disapproving manner, though she knew that man had done nothing, she still despised him.

She knew why for it had happened before. It was her...Problem. She hated talking about it, but Mary had a horrible case of bipolar. She hated people she met at first but liked them soon after and then (you can guess) she hated them again. She had no control, and that made her lost in anger and rage. She snapped out of her self-pitying faze when she heard the stranger babble something loud and incoherent. As she opened her mouth to yell a rude "What?!" she blacked out, the last thing she saw was a man. A much more menacing man; His scarred hands looming over to cover her mouth and face.