That insult sparked the first tendrils of the fire of anger in Viktor. He ceased rummaging around the remains of the man and stood up to his full height, standing significantly taller than Lilyia. His eyes took on a dangerous light as he rounded to face like her, bearing down on her like a hawk on a rabbit. That colourful and extensive insult was one that Viktor could not and would not ignore, she had insulted both him and his people. Now she would bear the full fury of Chechen anger, Viktor pulled his hunting knife from his pocket and making little noise despite his large form he strode up behind the Russian girl and put one large, tree-trunk like arm around her throat in a python-like grip. He did not throttle her then and there but pressed the cold metal of the blade into her neck to the point that it drew blood. There was anger burning in his eyes and his expression made it clear that he would slit her throat for that insult without the slightest qualm. He dug the blade in deeper until a trickle of blood began to wind its way down her front and he applied pressure so as to make it difficult for her to breath and speak.
"Say what you will about me," he said in a voice straining to hold back anger "but do not ever insult my people or our struggle! I should kill you for these insults you pathetic little spoiled Russian slut! You know nothing about Chechnya or its people! You are Russian, all you know is what your leaders tell you. Your people are too blind and arrogant to see your own wrongdoing, or do you simply ignore it? We fight because your filthy kind continues to treat us as subhumans and denies us our rightful freedom! But how could I expect a Russian to understand self-determination and struggling for the freedom of your people. Your Russians are too stupid to do it of your own free will, you stand around brainlessly milling about until your masters give you instructions."
Pinned to Viktor's side in a ruthless, iron grip Lilyia would be entirely unable to move. He continued to apply pressure and the knife blade to her neck, he wouldn't kill her but he would teach her a lesson. For what she had done she needed to be punished and Viktor had risen to the defence of his people. He released one hand to reach into a pocket and pulled out the slightly tattered photograph depicting the young woman and boy. He shoved it in her face and a trace of pain flickered through his voice for a moment before being replaced by anger.
"Look at them!" He growled "Taken by the hands of your people! That boy, he was my son. He had just turned five when the Russian soldiers came to my village. Do you know what they did? Do you! The bastards dragged him from his bed and beat him half to death before lighting him on fire and watching him run about in pain! That woman, she was my wife Anya. They dragged her out into the street and...violated her. I heard the screams of my son, the screams of my wife as they tormented her before slitting her throat and I could do nothing! They had tied me to a pole, beaten me savagely and left me to watch! Get out of my sight!"
Viktor shoved her bodily away from him and looked at the photograph fondly before tucking it back into his pocket for safe keeping.
Last edited by Kaine223; 02-20-2013 at 01:30 PM.
Originally Posted by RacoonJones
Originally Posted by ONL