08-30-2009, 06:34 PM
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Word Count: 345 Hanna kept calling him by formal titles, but she would likely learn that there was no need for it one-on-one, in time. Most of the members of the tribe right now knew that already, but some of the newer ones still were formal. It pleased him to see that they could be polite, but he liked to think of them as his friends and in every way his equal. His position merely appointed him leader of formal things, which in his mind didn't entitle him to such politeness in every situation - only the formal ones. So as long as he did not put himself in an authoritative position, there was no need for titling. Smiling very friendly, he gestured with his hand, dismissing the "Sir" granted to him by the dark femme. "That's true, we have many to choose from. And you don't have to call my by titles, Hanna. Just call me Dawali - that's what everyone else do." The shine in his eyes and mien on his face was purely friendly; there was not an ounce of accusation in them. Puzzled, Dawali observed her impact on the foal he held, and while the small one had at first been skittish and nervous, it now calmed down as soon as her voice reached its ears. She spoke with signs and sounds he had seen before, but he had never bothered to learn it. Still, it was very fascinating to watch, and he was also glad at knowing that the foal would not cause trouble. They could be rather jumpy if they wanted, and one should not underestimate their strength just because they were young. When Hanna inquired about one of the other horses, Dawali's shoulders shrugged as he replied. "That one has no particular owner - she is one of the more neutral working horses we keep, for anyone who needs it to make use of or train to their needs." Pausing, he let his yellow gaze wander to the horse's face, and then back to Hanna's. "Indeed, she's something. They're beautiful creatures." |