If it's not real, you can't hold it in your hand

Levent Kartal · 05-24-2012, 07:37 PM

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the baffled king composing

285 words

He thought he could hear a voice yammering on as he approached the building, but as he heard the loud crack of wood, Levent figured it had been out of frustration. He jumped at the sound, and Wilson rocketed up onto his shoulder with his white tail puffed out like a bottlebrush, but the man had become familiar with the sound of doors breaking off during his escapades in Europe and relaxed shortly, murmuring little mews of comfort to the feline. It was harder to get the jumpy cat to calm down, but at least he felt safer on his perch on Lev’s shoulder—which was all too used to the pain of cat claws digging into his flesh.

Shadowed by the buildings around them, the wolf continued to walk forward. Smell told him that the stranger was a lone female, though that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a threat. He remained hopeful, however, keeping his distance as his blue eyes peered into the darkness. When she spoke again, he laughed, and stepped closer so that both of them could get an eyeful of the other.

“I’m whoever you want me to be,” Levent said in theatric tones, his short body bending in a low bow that had the feline scrambling for balance. He managed a grin, rising slowly, a gold hoop at the base of his dark ear jiggling—but it was then he noticed the hilt of a sword at her hip, where her dark hand rested. Altogether she looked the part of royalty from his corner of the world, decorated by human clothing, her weapons’ belt well-made. His smile grew curious and impressed, but he spoke casually. “Can you use that, tatlım?”

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