Theres something telling me

Kansas Sadira · 10-23-2010, 02:46 PM

[html]

The male introduced himself in a thick, unfamiliar accent. The dialect was pretty and romantic, reminding Kansas of Savina's beautiful Italian tongue. He wondered where Heath had originated, whether the accent implied that he had come from miles across the sea or not. Kansas was still amazed by the variety of dialects he came across; the Marinos', Rurik's, Heath's. He spent his childhood around wolves who spoke in the same way that he did.

Kansas Sadira, he returned. ...Crimson Dreams. He spoke quietly, but genially, wanting to exaggerated neither niceness nor aggression. He was caught between the two, knowing not to venture too far in either direction. Anxiety was returning, and it brought the struggle for words that may as well have been rare jewels. The situation still held a tinge of awkwardness that he wished would disappear from his head, for that was truly the only place it existed. Kansas looked around, as if a tangible sight would help him — and it did. He saw the horses still touching noses, getting used to one another. ... And, eh, what's your horse's name? Then he gestured toward the larger stallion with a slight, shy sweep of his pale fingers. That's Lexington. He came from your home.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?