The dark fists were lowered as the cool smile and harsh words were given. The question was not one that she was meant to answer, but the Korean did not understand such discrete social conventions yet. A black aud flickered backward as the stranger’s tongue was stuck out. It seemed almost disrespectful and mocking, and the dark fae didn’t know how to respond to it. Her head cocked slightly. “No—I not see him,” the alto tones responded, the cool tones almost perplexed. But she understood the meaning of the gesticulation—the cutting of the tongue. The white orbs shifted from the tongue to the stranger’s face. She would not allow her tongue to be taken. A quiet growl rumbled in her throat, her strong maw distorting ever so slightly with her will to fight. The woman continued, explaining that her tongue would not be cut if she listened. This confused the simple fae. “I listening.” A curt nod was given twice, as if to emphasize her point. The Korean fae thought that the teacher was speaking with the present time in mind, not the long run. But the black fae remained silent.
The next few sentences were also received by silence. The dark fae was motionless, almost lithic save for the soft, rhythmic movement of her chest and belly as she breathed. It was heavier than her normal resting heart rate, as if this degrading talk greatly offended her and she would attack—bound or not—at any moment. Indeed, those dark jaws twitched and itched to sate the sanguine hunger that was growing so belligerently. Yes, she was a slave—the golden ring at her septum, the ring she had been forced to accept, spoke of it. But the pugnacious female was not so willing to accept her slavery yet. It was all very frustrating. The ropes that bound her frustrated her. The language that was not her native one frustrated her. And this predicament she found herself in, having left her homeland to be free of the stigma of her mixed birth was frustrating. The lack of control that now existed within that shattered mind was swiftly losing hold. The tail flickered dangerously behind her like a vehement snake. She may have been starving and greatly weakened still, but the martial artist, whose soul was not calm but tormented—would choose violence.
But the stranger spoke her last words just in time. The rage was quieted for a moment if only to better hear the words. The black, horn-like auricles pressed forward. There was a small promise of hope. A paled, pink tongue licked her parched lips and tested her strong, white fangs before disappearing into those hungering jaws. “I fight.” The words were a sentence, almost a demand—or a promise perhaps. Indeed, she would either fight with Salvia’s permission, or she would fight and die. “태권도,” she repeated. That was all that mattered to the shattered mind. “I listen. I behave.” The last word was repeated with minor struggle—a knew word in her mouth but not within her ears. There was a slight pause. “I listen, I am eating?” Salvia had been smart to give only enough for basic sustenance, but it would be taxing upon the martial artist’s body in the long run.
.ykt-simplestuff {margin:0px auto;width:425px;border:1px solid white;-moz-border-radius:10px;-webkit-border-radius:10px;border-radius:10px;background-color:#000000;font-family:Verdana;font-size:9px;color:#f1f1f1;padding:5px;text-align:justify;padding-left:10px;padding-right:10px;}
.ykt-simplestuff b {color:#777777;}
.ykt-simplestuff p {text-indent:25px;}
</style>[/html]