'Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict,' - William Ellery Channing.
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MY PREVARICATED MANNER is probably not the best way to go about the matter, and I forcefully go about removing the weed from our little garden patch of herbs. The different alluring scents do not reach far enough to soothe our tempers as our dispute only seems to intensify the further the sun travels across the sky.
"Talk to me, Davina." Xavier follows me on my tail, refusing to give me the space I need to keep myself from bursting.
"No," I repudiate and force my attention to the greenery, making sure I got every piece of unwanted shrub that shadows the useable herbs. I continue to feel his thickheaded aura behind me as he refuses to yield. Through gritted teeth, I let out an involuntary huff as I by accident squeeze a young defenseless sage sprout.
"Da—"
"A gun, Xavier?" I hotly hiss and turn to him, "A gun," I reiterate through clenched teeth and he takes a reflexive step back. I let out a light growl, running a hand over my face in annoyance, trying to tame the stray strands that have escaped their confinement behind my ears by grooming our garden.
"What were you thinking?" I continue, and I see a stubborn spark materialize in his eyes that only fuels my frustration. "I told you it has no effect!" I almost yell at him by him being so reckless and not think of the consequences his foolish move might have had.
"I-." He tries to defend himself, but is stopped by me jabbing my finger into his chest.
"They don't need any further incitement for coming after us, which is surely what that thing..." I growl in disdain, "...Is gonna bring. Whatever damage they will do to you is nothing compared to the measly flesh wound you'll inflict on them, and that is saying you actually hit one!"
Xavier dithers before his gaze turns flinty, however I don't flinch as his usual startling eyes darken. Instead I feel an impulsive urge to take the gun and shoot myself for emphasis of his heedless action and its possible outcome.
Like he senses my erratic thought, he grabs my wrist to make sure I don't walk away from him, "Don't. Just don't," he warns flatly and I rip my arm out from his grip, challenging him. His expression is stoic, however his flaring nostrils tell me he is infuriated.
Aggravated, I turn around again and sit on my knees to turn over the soil with fractious stabs, adamant on ignoring his hovering shadow.
"Don't you think I've taken my precautions?" He speaks above me, trying hard to withhold his anger from seeping into his words and I soundly exhale through my nose, while persistently trying to prim the aliments. "I know lead has no effect, but silver—"
