Ezequiel no te gutsa :O/+238
The world seemed to go silent for a moment, as though Ezequiel's ears refused to hear what had just been said to him, then like a rubber band snapping under strain Ezequiel's mind flooded with pure anger and he darted forward, right arm rising to his staff and teeth bared in anger.
Ezequiel was stopped unexpectedly when an arm shot out to grasp his shoulder tightly, soft voice wafting over his ears, " Ezekiel, calma síos." Anita's unexpected boldness couples with the surprise of her actually speaking Irish, something she didn’t tend to do, was enough to shock Ezequiel into stopping in his tracks, his rage slowly trickling away somewhat as Anita gripped his shoulder, her eyes firm.
Ezequiel's voice was still tight with anger when he spoke next, angry mismatched eyes drilling into Amy's own, "Anita. Is. Not. A. Slave. She is my sister, an anyone who decides that she'd make a good slave's gonna take a nap in the dirt." Ezequiel broke eye contact, glancing back at Anita who gave a small, comforting smile and nosed his ear. When he turned back to Amy he was somewhat calmer, "I'll give ya benefit o' tha' doubt this time aye Amy? Honest mistake that ya ain' gonna make again right?" There was an edge to his voice at the end of that statement, making it clear that it was more a demand that a question.
.ezekour b {font-weight:bold; color:#415747; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#000 1px 1px 1px; }
.ezekour p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.ezekour {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#000000; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/TZfk3.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000; padding:370px 0px 7px 0px; font-family:georgia; font-size:12px; color:#b9b9b9; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:15px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]