Chivalry isn't dead, it's just sleeping

Alister Callow · 07-18-2012, 01:42 PM

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Word Count :: 571 Awkward. Alister is awkward. No need to match length

The scent of a fresh kill was tantalizing in his flaring nostrils. His breathing had evened out in his sleep and he was able to inhale deeply the scent of the approaching woman and her kill. His mouth began to water and drew him into a bleary consciousness at the thought of fresh blood. He sat up slowly, blinking away the haze of his dreamy state, as he turned to the woman and her horse. They became decidedly clearer as the moment passed, and his red/brown ears twitched to the sound of her kindly greeting. So much for defenceable…He thought to himself absently pertaining to his choice in camping spots. She’d nearly snuck up on him, if it weren’t for the scent of the blood and the tromping of her horse Alister would have found himself taken unawares by the remarkably tall woman.

As he scrambled to reach his feet he found himself still looking up to her even straight-backed and upon two legs. Well, that’s not emasculating in the least bit. He mused, but didn’t hold it against the woman. “Greetings, my lady.” He called amiably with one of his famous crooked grins. “I’d uh…no idea anyone was here.” His hazel eyes, seeming blue now as he turned his back on the dying fire, fell to her enlarged belly and widened considerably. He stepped entirely away from the blankets. “Forgive my manners, my lady, I had no idea you were walking for two.” There was a beat after which he added with a sporting chuckle, “...or three...or four…Please, have a seat.” He motioned towards his patched blanket and bedroll pressed up against a fallen tree. His eyes roamed the campsite, his expression bordering on panic at its rather dismal state. Definitely not fit for a lady. “My apologies for the mess.” He said, collecting his belongings, half spilling out of his upturned satchel. He scooped them up, and strapped the bag closed, before his eyes flicked to the shield laying idly beside the bedroll with the half-eaten hare atop it. He shrugged at it, and instead worked on stirring the fire into life again, prodding it with a twig.

Finally satisfied the wolf dog ran cream-hued digits through his short-cropped brunette mane, and turned to give the woman, and her deliciously fresh kill, his undivided attention. He tried to pay it as little heed as possible, ‘lest his stomach betray him, but that was proving utterly impossible and soon his belly gave a traitorous rumble. It could only be satisfied by rabbit for so long it seemed and longed for a proper meal. He dismissed it, and took the moment to look the woman over. His eyes took the sight of her bow and arrow, as she, no doubt, was probably taking in the presence of his own longsword in the sheath at his belt. He was wearing his leather trousers as always, with his mother’s sun amulet resting just above his chest. His traveling cloak was rested on the pile of blankets, for now.

It occurred to him that the woman may not enjoy his visual display and he dropped his gaze and bent in a low bow, placing a hand at his middle. "A thousand pardons my good woman, allow me to introduce myself. I am Alister Callow. I was sleeping, you see, so I fear you er...have me at a disadvantage." Then his gaze shifted to the horse with some skepticism. It’s not that he didn’t like horses, but more the fact that they didn’t usually like him. That’s what he’d gathered at least owing to the fact that they always seemed inclined to buck him off. He could still recall quite clearly the taste of dirt, and true to its name it tasted quite filthy.

Photo courtesy of Temari 09

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