( spontaneity is a work unfamiliar to his family, as is temerity and effrontery. caution marks his family. they are the pebble that generates insignificant ripples in a river. as a matter of fact, their family crest bares a small crab (symbol of patience and cunningness) hiding behind the much larger and obvious griffin's foreleg. burrowing is their nature, inherent and learned, just as birds fly south at the first frost. indeed, his decision to quit proper society and enlist in the royal marines, though seen by his father as an act of impulse and foolhardiness, was the product of careful and excruciating reflection.
a strict sense of self-perseverance and discretion establishes their temperaments but also their reactions to discord. at the first hint of peril, they melt away and inform the authorities only during their departure. doing so has endowed the bottreaux family to endure five hundred years of civil strife and regime changes. yet for him, he cannot. inaction is approval of cruelty. it's not a matter of propriety, safety, or strategy; it's a matter of responsibility. for, though the crown no longer rests on his head, the weight still burdens.
the shoulder belonging to the soldier on which atticus places his hand turns to him and immediately lunges to attack, hurling punches through the air. atticus steps back. to the left. then to the right, as if they are partners dancing a quadrille. with bravura, he's easily able to dodge the soldier's wild fists. as unwise as acquiring an injury would be, retaliation would be just as so. the idea of spending a fortnight, sealed in a cell away from celestial light and a fresh breeze is unappealing, especially for a foolish thing as this. his arms stay at his sides, disinterested in a counterattack. meanwhile, the two harassed harvesters take the distraction as an opportunity to flee. although, not noticing it at present moment, later, atticus cannot find it in himself to blame them for abandoning him.
the crowd that had once been a rabble has now shifted into an audience. many are eager to become witness to the beating of mr. atticus cartwright. though lackadaisical and easygoing in his manners, some townspeople interpret him as arrogant and condescending. then a soldier with dark eyes and a hare-lip steps forward — surely the leader as an arrogant superiority rolls off him — and, like a striking snake, throws his fists forward. before he can react, he's pummeled in the ribs by the soldier. once then twice. atticus wheezes. his legs almost buckle from the pain, but he's able to catch himself on the sticky wooden planks of the stall behind him. from beneath his raven black hair, atticus's green eyes harden and he glares at the man. contempt poisons his blood and, for an instant, he forgets his own warning against retaliation, thoughts now only on demonstrating to him and to everyone that he is just a bug beneath his boot.
the constable arrives, red with anger, and shouts for the crowd to disperse. mr. bennet then arrives, followed closely by his daughter and wailing wife. rather than the cooling, liberating sensation of relief at the sight of assistance, atticus feels only the bitterness of irritation. his friend pushes through the scattering throng to him and offers out a helping hand. atticus refuses. a grimace twists at his features as atticus stands back up fully and freely on his two feet, returning to his bent position, though this time it's due to his injuries. he doubts the soldier had the strength and precision to severely injury his ribs, but he believes he won't be able to go on his walks or even easily breathe for at least a week. this fact only adds to his ire and disdain.
after the crowd disperses, the constable turns his attention to the disrupters. he marches straight to atticus and begins yelling although, with the height difference of the two, his vitriol is directed to atticus's chest rather than his face. he allows this for a few moments before stopping the constable, recounting the incident in a calm voice that doesn't hint at the pain shooting from his sides. he reports names of witnesses that could vouch for him and mentions the injuries sustained in the attack from the soldiers. lastly, he states his intentions to press charges against the soldiers in both civil and military court. )However, ( he hisses and casts a scornful look upon the soldiers, ) I am willing to overlook this incident so long as everyone here agrees to the same.
( his desire for conciliation outweighs his desire for retribution. vengeance will be neither master nor compatriot. )
no subject
a strict sense of self-perseverance and discretion establishes their temperaments but also their reactions to discord. at the first hint of peril, they melt away and inform the authorities only during their departure. doing so has endowed the bottreaux family to endure five hundred years of civil strife and regime changes. yet for him, he cannot. inaction is approval of cruelty. it's not a matter of propriety, safety, or strategy; it's a matter of responsibility. for, though the crown no longer rests on his head, the weight still burdens.
the shoulder belonging to the soldier on which atticus places his hand turns to him and immediately lunges to attack, hurling punches through the air. atticus steps back. to the left. then to the right, as if they are partners dancing a quadrille. with bravura, he's easily able to dodge the soldier's wild fists. as unwise as acquiring an injury would be, retaliation would be just as so. the idea of spending a fortnight, sealed in a cell away from celestial light and a fresh breeze is unappealing, especially for a foolish thing as this. his arms stay at his sides, disinterested in a counterattack. meanwhile, the two harassed harvesters take the distraction as an opportunity to flee. although, not noticing it at present moment, later, atticus cannot find it in himself to blame them for abandoning him.
the crowd that had once been a rabble has now shifted into an audience. many are eager to become witness to the beating of mr. atticus cartwright. though lackadaisical and easygoing in his manners, some townspeople interpret him as arrogant and condescending. then a soldier with dark eyes and a hare-lip steps forward — surely the leader as an arrogant superiority rolls off him — and, like a striking snake, throws his fists forward. before he can react, he's pummeled in the ribs by the soldier. once then twice. atticus wheezes. his legs almost buckle from the pain, but he's able to catch himself on the sticky wooden planks of the stall behind him. from beneath his raven black hair, atticus's green eyes harden and he glares at the man. contempt poisons his blood and, for an instant, he forgets his own warning against retaliation, thoughts now only on demonstrating to him and to everyone that he is just a bug beneath his boot.
the constable arrives, red with anger, and shouts for the crowd to disperse. mr. bennet then arrives, followed closely by his daughter and wailing wife. rather than the cooling, liberating sensation of relief at the sight of assistance, atticus feels only the bitterness of irritation. his friend pushes through the scattering throng to him and offers out a helping hand. atticus refuses. a grimace twists at his features as atticus stands back up fully and freely on his two feet, returning to his bent position, though this time it's due to his injuries. he doubts the soldier had the strength and precision to severely injury his ribs, but he believes he won't be able to go on his walks or even easily breathe for at least a week. this fact only adds to his ire and disdain.
after the crowd disperses, the constable turns his attention to the disrupters. he marches straight to atticus and begins yelling although, with the height difference of the two, his vitriol is directed to atticus's chest rather than his face. he allows this for a few moments before stopping the constable, recounting the incident in a calm voice that doesn't hint at the pain shooting from his sides. he reports names of witnesses that could vouch for him and mentions the injuries sustained in the attack from the soldiers. lastly, he states his intentions to press charges against the soldiers in both civil and military court. ) However, ( he hisses and casts a scornful look upon the soldiers, ) I am willing to overlook this incident so long as everyone here agrees to the same.
( his desire for conciliation outweighs his desire for retribution. vengeance will be neither master nor compatriot. )