(--) /snortchokedie
Machidael is by me!
The smile was unexpected, and Machidael regarded her with the slitted snake's eyes of deep suspicion. In his experience, many found sex to be a special thing shared between those who cared about each other, and many more grew ornery at the suggestion of unacquainted relations, even if unattached. And still, a memory resonated within Machidael of his second stint within al-Iskandariyya. He remembered the canines from the first time he'd lived there, too, but at such a young age, he had not known their purpose. There were both women and men, according to taste, and though Machidael had never been prosperous enough to have indulged himself, he'd longed from afar.
He would not, however, have expected to encounter the same thing on this continent. From all Sebante had said, it was less civilized by far, and such esteemed trades -- for what else was something allowed to pleasure him, but an esteemed trade? -- were not found here. His suspicion prickled again, and the rust-streaked jackal wondered if he had said anything Machidael might rely upon. Her removing the cloak bolstered his hope, and the jackal was preparing to stand when she tucked it before herself and spoke of the crows. His head snapped toward them and he hissed frustration at the closeness of them. Crows were of no concern to him with more tantalizing games to play. They scattered at his scrutiny, however, and Machi was quick to return his attention to the pale supposed-coyote.
You run, he said, and extending a finger to point at the spear and then the horse. I chase, I take, he promised. There would be killing, later, but first there would be taking -- or perhaps both, simultaneously? Machidael would have time to decide. Though his steed was a tottering old thing, he did not need to ride her down -- he could throw the spear from horseback just as well as he could with both feet planted on the ground. The rust-hued jackal took a step away from the midsection of the corpse and shrugged, gesturing at it. His knife was sunken into the exposed flesh around the ribs. He didn't particularly care if she ruined the pelt, for by occupying himself with her, he'd surely waste the brief time in which it was easiest to skin the thing. It was therefore likely he would give up his pelt-prize anyway.
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