muiem
#4
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Festivity's upbringing had been racially blind. Canines from all walks of life lived in the caravan: some permanently and some only for the passing of a moon. And of course, if a species was intelligent and coherent enough and had goods to bargain with, he might do business with the traders of the Keystone Clan. For the first two years of her life, the storyteller had been another oddity among exotics; a stranger among freaks. If she looked odd, it was nothing compared to some of the folk she'd once met.



After fleeing the caravan and heading to Europe, gawking stares became more frequent the deeper she traveled into the north. Ah well. Sometimes, the stares affronted but they'd never offended her. (Well once, the looks had turned lewd - THEN she got angry). Usually, her use of language was disarming, although a couple of times folk had refused to listen and stuck to their prejudices.



Festivity approached easily, her mannerisms friendly and open. "Unusual?" She offered, smiling at his discomfort to show that no offense had been taken.
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