sforzando

Caspa Al-Fateh · 11-22-2011, 06:23 AM

[html]

Word Count :: 400=

Although his words were all of flattery and concern, she could only assume that he was flattering for the sake of himself rather than Caspa herself. She would not rise to the bait and add to his self-estimation, returning compliment like for like. She suspected him of floral insincerity, with his talk of beautiful women and their unaccompanied wanderings. "Perhaps not, so it is good that there are none such nearby."

She had never been called beautiful. Her face was so different to the classic wolf or even dog visage: her physique she felt she carried as if strung together like a stick model, and evidently she was more often met with curiosity or disdain. Even in her own tribe, she had been kept apart from anybody who might have found her looks more to their taste. She would admit the silky fur feathering cascading from her limbs and head had a certain elegance, but in her case, it was a wasted matter of gilding a sharp and spiky weed. Aesthetically, the towering thunder-coloured man on his lunar steed was striking, but she already trusted neither his manner or his opinion. Regardless, the Duchess was unwilling to let this show. Out here she was so far from any homeland, she felt herself reverting to her pilgrim state: an ambassador for herself, her beliefs and her journey. The protocol was obvious: share the stranger's meal. Caspa was not sure exactly what role she was playing, any more. He had disconcerted her and the fear stripped back the new identity that was still so fluid and structureless, that of a pack-wolf. It was a wandering monk who bowed her head with hands clasping before her and answered "I would be honoured to accept your charity." Whether he had meant such spiritual intentions, she had no idea but deep within in a place where fear could not touch, the Jester part of Caspa was amused to see her turn the ingratiating proposition into something more pure and sanctified than he had probably intended. Although it was only her own pride she was currently sacrificing, she suspected that the great-caped man might have a more sensitive character, and there were still more glib remarks threatening to trip off her tongue. At least that metal thing was still within reach, and might make a serviceable weapon. She was glad, indeed, that the Salsolan stranger was not a mind-reader at that moment.

Image courtesy of ®DS @ flickr; Table by the Mentors!

Login




Remember me Lost Password?