Unwanted, unneeded

Isabella Heiwa · 01-24-2012, 04:50 PM

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539
eeeee it's a Sie! Big Grin

I actually read all of your post cx;; I'm afraid my brain says no to rambling so enjoy the lovely excessive descriptions of the pelt.

The winter sunlight made the soft pelt a more chocolate brown than the murky mud color it had seemed in the shed. Draping it over her arm, the woman felt the strange texture of the hide rather than the lusciously soft fur. With delicate fingers, Isabella made little channels through the short threads of fur, watching them part in waves like rolling plains of growing wheat or tall wild grass. After her fingers passed, the two sides cut apart merged back together without a mark of their parting. A serene smile descended upon her features as she ran her hand over the pelt again and again, ruffling it and laying it flat with every opposing pass of her hand.

Slowly, her eyes raised up when she caught the sound and scent of another member of the Thistle Kingdom approaching. It was easy to detect in the cold smell of winter where the only thing to smell was the faint aroma of musky game, wetness, and ice. Her sunflower and sky blue eyes gazed at the golden stranger as she approached. Her coloration was coyote, of beaten gold with hair the color of a murky cup of thick tea. Isabella watched her carefully, taking note of the red eyes. Red eyes, for her family, had always been a warning sign of either evil or magic, and the gypsy woman wondered if it was ether of those options. Though, in this strange kingdom, the lines between evil and good were blurred so much that Isabella was often walking in shades of grey.

This other woman demonstrated an air of authority and confidence that the gypsy woman could not mistake for anything other than a high rank or some level of power. Wary, as always, Isabella nodded her head at the woman. Facing her fully now, the gypsy saw that the stranger held bottles in her hand. Most likely some kind of alcohol, the woman forgot the bottles. Alcohol dulled the senses and the mind lost clarity. Such a dangerous drink had no place near strong women, especially ones with much to lose. Naturally, she had plenty of bottles -- both traded for and received in payment -- to give to customers. Men loosened by drink often had open hands. Sometimes, they even fell asleep before anything could have happened, so naturally Isabella kept a few in store. Though now she had none, she chose to keep her home free of the drug for now.

"I believe so," she said simply, carefully regarding the look on the golden woman's face. There was a bare hint of an accent, come from speaking French though it was faint and more of a flavoring to her tones. It was enigmatic, to say the least. In a retort, Isabella gave the stranger one of her own. She betrayed little emotion other than calm. There was no reason to betray anything to someone with such presence. "Mon Dieu, there isn't very much, though." Isabella shot a glance toward the slightly open doorway of the shed, wondering if people preferred to hoard there things. "What do you bring, if you don't mind my query?" The woman gestured lightly toward the bottles in the other woman's hands.

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