I do what I want[/html]
If she had been more focused on her surroundings she might have noticed that a fresher scent lingered with that of horse and horse trappings. The gray-blue head that shot around the corner startled her, making both of her ears go up high from their place amongst thick, wavy chestnut colored hair. One hand flew up to her chest and her eyes widened. It was not so much his appearance as the fact that he had inserted himself into her space before she realized he was there.
Yet her face broke into a beaming smile, small teeth flashing as a rolling laugh escaped her feathery throat. “Oh monsuier, you startle me.” Her hand fell, brushing against his arm in a friendly manner. She was a true Parisian girl; unabashed, Rosie was the example of femininity…if not for her sharp hips and skinny waist. “Eet is not a very good song,” she went on, tilting her head slightly. “For leetle ones. Eet is…how you say, sillee?” The French woman did not know this native tongue well yet, and Vasiliy was a foreigner as well. She hoped desperately he could understand her. A bolt of sharp worry caused a faint line to crease between her brows, and her tail wagged behind her—not out of joy, but in the terrible squirrel-cage of self.
| Messages In This Thread |