12-18-2007, 12:25 AM
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This is shorter than I would have liked, and blech quality. Forgiiive. Perhaps there was an insult in that statement, though none of the words bore barbs intended for her. Luz loved to be recalled, with or without a sour aftertaste, and pressed sharply to memory – yet she found too often that she was branded bad company. “So be it,” said her slack shoulders, said the slightest curve of her mouth when she met with distaste, said the hard amethyst eyes when others looked on. She elected not to digest that statement too deeply; she let the sentence slip by. “To be fair, I don’t know your name, either,” said the she-wolf, who a silver-shoal in the stead of a more pleasing palette, although she was mindful that there was likely little comfort in those words. Although expectation demanded it, she didn’t follow her sentence with an immediate introduction. She simply took small strides up the bridge (making noises of wood-anguish as she did) and clasped her hands behind her. One hand, the left sibling, cupped her chin and lent its elbow against the railing. The effect was a travesty of thought, so thinly coated on the astronomer, though she displayed the symptoms correctly enough – the faraway eyes, the odd inaction of eye and brow, the slack mouth. “You have a bad memory?” she asked, too aware that there were several different implications in the question. |