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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 30, 2013 3:33:25 GMT
Her steepled fingers were definitely not a good sign.
“It is not my business to wonder. I am of action, not wonder. I have learned about the nations of old, and that is enough for me.”
The lack of whimsy was starting to drive him up a wall. Something itched, itched deep inside his head, and he scratched at his neck and the back of his head. So many humans had such great capacity for imagination, for internal adventures and wanderlust. Was she really so indifferent? So… incapable of awestruck wonder?
She had to be lying. Or perhaps defective. Broken, broken, broken, brooookeeeeen—
“Kerberos.” Muninn. “Relax and listen. She speaks again.”
Her expression was slightly more agitated, her words the same as before. She opened the book, appearing to actually have intent to read it this time, and said, “Now, you're free to take the day off, but I'd like to you to leave your name and rank with me before you go.”
Kerberos would like you to answer Kerberos’ questions, he thought, but the thought passed out of words and into mere thought relatively quickly. She was done playing his games, that was evident enough. “Not enough whimsy in you,” Kerberos muttered, a frown sinking on his face. “No, no, far not enough. Is it a lack of creativity? No, no, strategy requires creativity.” He rubbed at his chin, still mulling it over.
“Kerberos.”
He narrowed his eyes, looking down at the book. He had to respond, that he knew, but there was something gnawing, clawing, at him. A brow slowly raised as the thoughts began the manifest into language. “Have I disturbed you?” he asked, genuine confusion lacing his voice. He stepped back, suddenly unsure of the conversation.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 30, 2013 4:08:11 GMT
She watched him closely, her patience beginning to wear thin. She could nearly see the gears turning in his head. If, indeed, there is anything in his head. Something was beginning to bother him. Perhaps he's looking for an explosive reaction? I'm not the one to give it to him, if he's looking. Fateseeker looked at her, looking bored.
“Not enough whimsy in you. No, no, far not enough. Is it a lack of creativity? No, no, strategy requires creativity.”
Huh. A bit of... respect, there? Larael thought as she opened the book. A flood of information on the Norman Conquest appeared, and she went through the first few lines. After a moment, she looked up. "I am pleased you know enough about strategy to consider it 'creative.' I do not live rooted in dreams and fantasies, preferring realities and the past, rather than tenuous and uncertain futures."
The stranger spoke again, this time with a certain honesty in his tone. “Have I disturbed you?”
Larael thought for a moment at that. An interesting visitor. Disturbed? No. Bothered? Perhaps. She mulled that over. She wasn't particularly upset, just a bit confused as to why he was bothering her. She took a sip from a wooden cup of water on the desk, then shook her head.
"No. You haven't, really. If that was your goal, you failed. You've... agitated me. Do you not have something better to do? I can find you an assignment, if that's the case."
Still a bit cold. She didn't want to threaten him with a task, she just wanted to make sure that anyone who saw her knew not to disrupt her when she was working. She turned the page to a tactical map of Hastings, waiting for a response.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 30, 2013 4:39:36 GMT
“I am pleased you know enough about strategy to consider it 'creative.' I do not live rooted in dreams and fantasies, preferring realities and the past, rather than tenuous and uncertain futures.”
Kerberos nodded slowly. What was it? The design, the design. Yes, left brained. That was it. Based in logic and numbers and facts. It was something Kerberos could appreciate, something Kerberos could do, but frankly it got dull after a while. It could serve a purpose, but it wasn’t fun.
Numbers were also rather lonely things. And Kerberos was tired of being alone.
“No. You haven't, really,” she said. It took Kerberos a moment to realize she meant about being disturbed. “If that was your goal, you failed. You've... agitated me. Do you not have something better to do? I can find you an assignment, if that's the case.”
He shook his head, shifting his weight and looking around the room. “No, no. K— I just saw you reading, and reading usually means intelligence, and I wanted a decent conversation.” He worked his jaw a bit, thinking. “I guess I forgot there are multiple types of intelligence, yes.”
A grin slipped onto his lips and a slight chuckle escaped him. “I also. Am not that good at social interactions. Thought patterns. Questions. Dramatics. That I am good at.” His eyes flicked around, working on his thoughts. “I had. I had duties today, yes. What were…”
“Eydís requires grooming, basic attention, and affection,” Muninn said. “You also have to practice sword-fighting.”
“But. But. Arrows! Whoosh! Vroom!”
“But but no.”
He frowned, pouting. “Sword-practice. That’s it. Sword-practice.” He toed the floor, looking suddenly unamused. “It’s a bore. I don’t know how others stand it.” His feet beckoned him, and he started walking around in a circle to get them to shut up. Stupid feet, always wanting to go places.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 30, 2013 5:31:28 GMT
“No, no. K— I just saw you reading, and reading usually means intelligence, and I wanted a decent conversation.”
She nodded. "I'm flattered you think me decent conversation. I hope I have played my part?"
Something she had said had also made him uncomfortable. She wasn't quite sure whether to be uncomfortable herself, or to be satisfied.
“I also. Am not that good at social interactions."
I noticed.
"Thought patterns. Questions. Dramatics. That I am good at. I had. I had duties today, yes. What were…”
She wasn't quite angry with him, mostly irritated because he came up to her like she wasn't doing something. She turned the page, eyes flicking over a passage about William the Conqueror and the year 1066. She looked up at him, "Questions appear to be quite the talent of yours." She chuckled, and Fateseeker looked up at her suddenly, apparently having fallen asleep during the previous boring conversation.
“Sword-practice. That’s it. Sword-practice. It’s a bore. I don’t know how others stand it.”
She blinked, slowly. Bored, of sword practice? Most of the people onboard are usually thrilled to be doing sword practice and not mopping a floor. She stood up. "A bore, you say?" She walked around the table, Fateseeker standing up to stand beside her. At the same time that she wanted to see how he did with a sword, some vindictive part of her really just wanted to smack him one.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Jan 3, 2014 3:31:26 GMT
Her chuckling warmed something inside him, and the sensation was strange and unearthly. “Questions appear to be quite the talent of yours.” A grin spread across his face and it wouldn’t quite go away.
“A bore, you say?”
Ah, there it went.
He stopped pacing, his face blank as he looked up at her. She had walked around the table, her snow drake at her side. He licked his lips, eyes flicking between the two. “A bore, I say,” he said, making invisible shapes with the toe of his shoe. “Play fighting, like kittens patting and kicking at each other.” He scowled, retracing one of the shapes, its form only known to him. “Hardly any fun, when the kittens have paws too soft and claws too dull.”
“She has most likely considered your boredom a challenge,” Huginn said.
Muninn tuted. “If this is true, please restrain yourself. We do not need any more suspicion cast upon us than you already have accrued.”
A smile cracked his face. “Oh, no,” he thought to his OAIs. “I would never dream of it.” Aloud, he said, “I take it the master tactician has a strategy for this situation?” He was fairly certain he knew the response to that. “Would she like to choose the field of confrontation?”
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 12:54:08 GMT
Sannidar, clothed in garments fit for a general, marched in front of his column of soldiers, all of whom were battle-hardened and prepared for their next skirmish. He lead them bravely, off to rescue a fair maiden.
Or, well. Maybe not exactly.
He was clothed fairly regularly for an Iduneus. And his column of soldiers wasn't a column of soldiers so much as a... disorganized, raggedy tangle of Tiros tagging along behind him like terrified, freezing cold llamas. Not so much battle-hardened as tired from all of their other training and maybe not exactly prepared for their next skirmish. The fair maiden part stayed exactly the same, however.
Either way, what difference did it make? He was still Sannidar--no, SANNIDAR--and he was still doing incredibly important things. Probably, anyway. Ensuring humanity's next generation of protectors and crap like that.
Yeah, he was doing important things.
The Tiros behind him were mostly quiet, their energy already having been removed. A few, however, took advantage of their time before going under the tutelage of a Pryfektus who was supposedly extra strict. Well, Sannidar would have to see for himself!
A smirk curved his lips, and he strained his hearing to listen in on what occurred within.
"A bore, you say?"
It was a woman's voice, cool and calm like a dove's song. And oh so slightly offended. Sannidar scowled. Was this undoubtedly gorgeous lady being offended by some scandalous ruffian?
“Play fighting, like kittens patting and kicking at each other. Hardly any fun, when the kittens have paws too soft and claws too dull.”
A crazy, scandalous ruffian?
“I take it the master tactician has a strategy for this situation? Would she like to choose the field of confrontation?”
Sannidar's grin grew. Looks like I'll be interrupting something. He almost had a bad habit with interrupting things and arriving in the nick of time. His reliance on luck and timing was probably a little unsafe at this point, but he wasn't about to change it.
Glancing back behind him to check on the frightened mass of Tiros, he nodded at them and then kicked open the door with a loud thud.
"Good afternoon!" he greeted the two people with a shout. One was, indeed, the lady he'd anticipated. The other must be the ruffian, then. He strode over to the two like the breath of fresh air he was, grinning all the while as the Tiros behind him trickled inside.
He stopped in front of the two, giving them a bow. "Next round of pupils for you, Pryfektus." He wasn't entirely sure which was the Pryfektus--he could see why the students would hate such a ruffian (although, he honestly couldn't be sure if the man was in actuality worthy of being accused of such). Turning to face the man more, his eyes narrowed in a semi-comical fashion. "Not abusing this elegant lady, are we?" he asked, sounding suspicious. "Of course, respect should be given to such a graceful, beautiful woman."
Sannidar had no shame.
((HEY have a sucky post i'm sorry i fail ;.; ))
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Jan 3, 2014 17:20:02 GMT
((Ho-jee-bus let's hope I don't break this.))
She was about to draw her sword (albeit to challenge the interloper) anyways when the door slammed open.
In an instant, her sword was in her hand, ready to strike. She was already switching into her battle frame of mind, and... it was just an Iduneus.
It's going to be a very, very long day.
Sheathing her sword she sat back down in the chair, she looked up at the leader of that next batch of Tiros she had been expecting and indeed, had come to rely on as her escape from the strange conversation with the stranger man.
"Good afternoon!"))
Part of her wanted to ask what's was so good about it, but she suppressed that in favor of a nod.
"Next round of pupils for you, Pryfektus."))
She looked at him as his eyes flicked back and forth between them. I don't think he knows who the Pryfektus is here. Larael smiled slightly, and spoke."Thank you, Iduneus. See to it that they begin standard weapons exercises."
She rubbed an eye and returned her attention to the book, reading something about the implications of Hastings in the tactical environment of 1066.
The newcomer spoke again.
"Of course, respect should be given to such a graceful, beautiful woman."))
She looked up, the faintest of faint pinks having crept into her cheeks. "Flattery will not cause me to forget the disturbance you made when you kicked the door open, Iduneus."
As much as she admittedly liked the flattery, she also couldn't be seen with a weakness like that: it would weaken her position as both an officer, and leader.
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Inspiration: If shoveling snow can inspire one, then that's what inspired me.
Notes: I DON'T THINK I BROKE THE TABLE.
table made by Opal.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Jan 3, 2014 20:31:25 GMT
The loud bang of the door sent Kerberos over the edge. Well, whatever edge was left for Kerberos to go over. Frankly, there were very few of them. His spine curled as if prepared to leap, his left hand twitching as he debated on grabbing the dagger concealed in his boot.
The twitch sent sparks through his synapses. “Iduneus! It’s just an Iduneus! Do nothing rash!”
“Kerberos will be as rash as Kerberos feels.” Though they did have a point. How droll. Besides, the woman beside him had just about the same reaction. Perhaps she wasn’t as different as he had thought.
“Good afternoon!” the Iduneus said, his voice as loud as the door he had assaulted. He moved towards them, his gait strong yet lofty with pride and arrogance. He stopped with a bow, continuing with, “Next round of pupils for you, Pryfektus.” His eyes flickered oddly.
… Did he not know who was who? Interesting. A courier who didn’t know their recipient.
The woman who was Pryfektus made her position clear. “Thank you, Iduneus. See to it that they begin standard weapons exercises.”
Lips twitching with amusement, Kerberos thought this situation horrifically standard, despite its rather dramatic beginning. Only it didn’t take long for Kerberos to see that he was not the only one for continuing dramatics.
The Iduneus faced him. “Not abusing this elegant lady, are we?” He sounded suspicious, though his tone didn’t reveal if he actually cared about the ‘elegant lady’ or if he simply enjoyed hearing his own voice. Kerberos would guess a bit of both. “Of course, respect should be given to such a graceful, beautiful woman.”
Definitely both.
A soft breath escaped Kerberos’ lips like a hiss. His dull eyes followed her, the Pryfektus. Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she looked up at him. Was she falling for this man’s silvertongued adulation? “Flattery will not cause me to forget the disturbance you made when you kicked the door open, Iduneus.” Perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps few complimented her.
It did not much matter to Kerberos. He turned back to the man, a toothless smile stretching across his face. “Placing her upon a pedestal is hardly respect, wouldn’t he agree?” he said, his voice taking on the smooth tone again. There was a tilt of the head. “Wouldn’t he also agree that her worth is not solely dependent on her aesthetics, but her ability to perform her tasks, which in her case take extreme measures of intelligence and aptitude? Therefore, her ability to earn respect would depend on her skill. So far, I am willing to give her respect, even though she does not return the favour.”
“Someone’s awful wordy.”
“Who, me?”
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 23:20:18 GMT
"Thank you, Iduneus. See to it that they begin standard weapons exercises."
Sannidar grinned, turning to the Tiros and gesturing at the practice weapons. "You heard the woman! On your feet!"
The woman who was, evidently, the Pryfektus around here. He'd make sure to remember that. After all, she didn't seem the type who was fun to piss off--she'd undoubtedly dole out consequences as quickly as she could dole out death on a battlefield.
Ahh, she was his type of woman. All women were his type of women.
"Flattery will not cause me to forget the disturbance you made when you kicked the door open, Iduneus."
And yet, a tiny hint of pink had crept into her cheeks, fueling the spark of humor in his eyes. "Oh, come. Any such alarm here would be much louder than silly me banging on your door." And banging on other things, if he had his way, but more on that later. "Besides, I'm certain that a battle-maiden of your status and expertise would have no issue dealing with whatever was sent your way."
“Placing her upon a pedestal is hardly respect, wouldn’t he agree? Wouldn’t he also agree that her worth is not solely dependent on her aesthetics, but her ability to perform her tasks, which in her case take extreme measures of intelligence and aptitude? Therefore, her ability to earn respect would depend on her skill. So far, I am willing to give her respect, even though she does not return the favour.”
Something was off about this man. The way he tilted his head, the odd way in which he spoke... something was definitely off.
Perhaps he's possessed by spirits, or is a spirit himself. An aether-shifter. Sannidar filed away the theory for later.
Either way, the creep posed some interesting questions.
"Ahh, but you mistake me, sir. I am not placing her upon a pedestal, I am simply giving her the respect that one of her station requires. And aesthetics? You've got to be daft if you've never valued something for its shininess or something or other. Her ability to perform tasks requiring such a gratuitous amount of intellect and technical expertise will only increase my respect for her. Some people need not earn respect, in my humble opinion. Perhaps, for you, that differs. But for I? I am ready to give people respect, and whether or not they keep it is their decision and theirs alone."
Yes, indeed, the Iduneus rather enjoyed hearing his own voice. But whose voice better to hear? Perhaps a woman's, yes. But unfortunately, the woman present seemed rather curt.
"Besides," he added with a smile, "from what I hear, this particular lady is exceptionally good at her work." This was no lie, and his words held the ring of truth. He'd heard the mutterings among the Tiros, and even other Iduneus. Although he knew nothing about this particular figure until know, he knew how efficient they were. "Managing to get a sixteen-year-old bullheaded Tiro to both curse your name and state that he practically worships you in the same breath is no easy feat." He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms and glancing sideways at Larael with eyebrows raised.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Jan 4, 2014 2:50:32 GMT
Larael smiled slightly as the new Iduneus ordered the pack of Tiros to begin exercises. They formed some orderly rows a ways away from her desk and began to spar in pairs, though some chose not to spar and instead practiced their form. She nodded, satisfied.
"Oh, come. Any such alarm here would be much louder than silly me banging on your door. Besides, I'm certain that a battle-maiden of your status and expertise would have no issue dealing with whatever was sent your way."
Battle-maiden. I like it. She nodded very slowly. "Though I am sure I would have most situations well under control, I would rather you did not make noises reminiscent of a situation I would need to react to. Larael pushed some hair out of her face, looking over the Tiros. She crossed over to one of them and stood behind them, then spoke to him briefly. He nodded, looking pale, then repeated the exercises with a tighter form and renewed vigor. She crossed back to her desk in time to hear the Iduneus speaking further.
"Besides, from what I hear, this particular lady is exceptionally good at her work."
Her mind slowed down a fraction as the unwanted pink made its way back to her face. She took an instant to regain any composure she had visibly lost, and spoke. "I do what I must for all of us."
"Managing to get a sixteen-year-old bullheaded Tiro to both curse your name and state that he practically worships you in the same breath is no easy feat."
She thought for a moment. To be an ideal that Tiros strive for? She didn't want to ask, but she had to know. "Did someone say that?"
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Tags: @sannidar
Inspiration:
Notes: While writing this, I got distracted like 46 times.
table made by Opal.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Jan 5, 2014 0:11:45 GMT
“Ahh, but you mistake me, sir. I am not placing her upon a pedestal, I am simply giving her the respect that one of her station requires. And aesthetics? You've got to be daft if you've never valued something for its shininess or something or other. Her ability to perform tasks requiring such a gratuitous amount of intellect and technical expertise will only increase my respect for her. Some people need not earn respect, in my humble opinion. Perhaps, for you, that differs. But for I? I am ready to give people respect, and whether or not they keep it is their decision and theirs alone.”
A chuckle rose up in his throat. He spun around on the ball of one foot, closing his mouth to try to stifle the laughter. It was a relatively fruitless effort, as the sound still managed to escape his lips, albeit muffled.
“Contain yourself.”
Ignoring Huginn, Kerberos twirled back to face the Iduneus. “How quaint,” he said quietly. “I wonder, does he not think appearances deceive? It would be a great irony if he didn’t.” He didn’t particularly care if the Iduneus heard him or not.
“Besides,” the man said, his voice and face alight with a smile, “from what I hear, this particular lady is exceptionally good at her work.”
Interesting indeed. This time he seemed sincere and honest, not the hollow flattery from before.
Kerberos looked over at the Pryfektus as she made her way over from the Tiros. She must have heard the last of the man’s words, as pink crept up her cheeks again. It was gone in a microsecond, but remnants still remained where Kerberos could see them. He huffed.
“I do what I must for all of us,” she said.
The man was going on again. “Managing to get a sixteen-year-old bullheaded Tiro to both curse your name and state that he practically worships you in the same breath is no easy feat.”
There was a pause, as if she was considering that. “Did someone say that?”
“Considering ninety-seven percent of his words have been made specifically to mentally disarm you against him, he probably doesn’t care if those words are true or not,” Kerberos said, his voice still low. “Although if your reputation precedes you as well as it seems to, it most likely is true.”
“Speaking in circles,” Muninn mused. “That’s not confusing.”
“Did I ask you?”
“No. But I’m going to keep talking anyway.”
He ground his teeth together. It was a stunning boring, yet interesting situation. One whose hubris practically accelerated the molecules around him and one whose demeanor was as cold as ice. And yet, this Iduneus seemed to be melting her exterior, little by little.
He would have to conduct more experiments. Watch more, then smooth talk into someone. That could work. But before that could begin, the social constructs he had tried to learn told him that he couldn’t simply leave. Did the Pryfektus still want to challenge him? He would wait, watch, and see.
It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.
“If anyone challenges you, remember your persona is not skilled at sword combat. Not as well as others.”
“Kerberos was supposed to be in character this whole time? Well, damn.”
There was something like agitated nonsense in his head, like the sound of someone bashing their face again the keys of a pipe organ. Amusement slid onto his face, though he said nothing.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 6, 2014 5:26:33 GMT
“How quaint. I wonder, does he not think appearances deceive? It would be a great irony if he didn’t.”
Sannidar raised an eyebrow, declining to comment on that particular statement. He wasn't here to discuss his ideals and beliefs with some odd little Iduneus who was probably possessed anyway.
He surreptitiously eyed her form as she made her circuit about the room. Shapely, toned. Not bad. Not bad at all. His eyes traced the curve of her hip down to her butt, rather impressed by the hourglass shape she maintained. Probably had little to no fat--she was a Pryfektus, after all. She probably spent an unreasonable amount of time staying in shape. Of course, at this rate, he would have absolutely no issue with that. He was a master at ogling women, and could do so without actually appearing as if he was. Anyone who knew him, however, would understand his intent completely. His eyes had wandering issues, but he was at least good enough at hiding it to seem proprietous most of the time.
However, by the time that Larael had turned back to them, his gaze was on the Tiros, watching their fighting to ensure that they weren't goofing off and were doing as they were supposed to.
"I do what I must for all of us," the Pryfektus replied.
Humble, he mused to himself. An odd challenge, indeed, but a challenge nonetheless.
In response to his statement about the Tiro, she seemed slightly surprised. "Did someone say that?"
“Considering ninety-seven percent of his words have been made specifically to mentally disarm you against him, he probably doesn’t care if those words are true or not. Although if your reputation precedes you as well as it seems to, it most likely is true.”
Sannidar chuckled. "Well aren't you a jumbled mass of words and kitten tails. Ninety-seven percent? You wound me, my dear sir. You wound me." A grin flickered across his face, showing that as per usual, he was joking. "Say, have you ever attempted courting someone? It's truly a challenge, although of what magnitude depends on the object of your affection. If you haven't already, you should try it."
Turning back to Larael, he spoke again. "Whether you choose to believe my words or not, the truth remains the same: you are, obviously, a remarkable woman with a remarkable skill set. You should not be surprised by the fact that one might comment upon it. Not to mention beautiful. I still don't think I've stated that nearly enough."
He wasn't the most truthful person sometimes, no. But in this case, she certainly did seem worthy of his compliments. She'd take a considerable amount of whittling away at, but he figured he might be able to woo her nonetheless. She was, after all, responding to his words, whether or not she was willing to admit it.
And he was patient enough.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Jan 7, 2014 3:27:15 GMT
Larael listened as the Iduneus and the strange man continued their conversation.
She could have sworn she suddenly felt eyes on her, though, looking around the room, she couldn't tell whose. Probably just a Tiro. The Tiros were usually glaring at her as she pushed them to their limits.
Not that there was anything wrong with pushing them to their limits. The Tiros needed to be tested, after all.
She looked over to the two men at her desk. They seemed to be having some manner of friendly conversation, from what she could gather from the Iduneus' grin.
Some strange grin slid onto the strange man's face, though he did not speak. She raised an eyebrow and dismissed the theory that he was an escapee from the infirmary, albeit who had suffered a severe concussion.
As she crossed back to her desk, she heard the leader of the Tiros speak once again, this time to her.
"Whether you choose to believe my words or not, the truth remains the same: you are, obviously, a remarkable woman with a remarkable skill set. You should not be surprised by the fact that one might comment upon it. Not to mention beautiful. I still don't think I've stated that nearly enough."
Remarkable. Beautiful.
She turned the words over in her head, and could feel her face heating up. She picked up her books and stuffed them into a satchel. Fateseeker looked up at her, as if to ask "Are you feeling well?"
She smiled at the snow drake and stroked its head, looking to the Iduenus. "I am capable, yes. That is why I am Pryfektus. Everything else, beauty included, is secondary to my obligations as an officer of the Drakonrhedi."
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Tags: @sannidar Kerberos the Subversive
Inspiration:
Notes: 1/3 DONE LET'S KEEP THE BALL ROLLING
table made by Opal.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Jan 7, 2014 5:28:53 GMT
The Iduneus chuckled, bringing Kerberos back to conversation at hand. The amusement melted away, though his lips twitched up slightly.
“Well aren't you a jumbled mass of words and kitten tails,” the man said. “Ninety-seven percent? You wound me, my dear sir. You wound me."
“That was my intent, yes. Congratulations.”
The man started to grin, and for lack of anything to do, Kerberos slowly grinned back. The man continued to speak. "Say, have you ever attempted courting someone? It's truly a challenge, although of what magnitude depends on the object of your affection. If you haven't already, you should try it."
A brow raised of its own accord. “Courting. As in mating rituals?” His voice went up slightly. A thought had occurred to him, like a light shining in the dark. “I don’t believe so. I haven’t found anyone worth vying for.” Glee shot through his head in a rush. He had to bounce it off of his thoughts. “Of course! The perfect way to study their behaviour. To take a mate!”
“That seems reckless,” Muninn said. “Besides, what if you get bored of them?”
“Good enough toys never bore.”
“I say do it,” Huginn said. “Maybe you’ll learn you don’t like breaking them.”
His eyes slowly turned to the Pryfektus, then back to the Iduneus. The Iduneus went back to praising her, his sentences long, his words flowery. There was a slight hint of honesty in his tone, but otherwise he was pouring it on a little thick.
But wait. Did that mean—?
“The boy’s pheromone levels suggest he wants to mate with the female.”
He bit at his lower lip. “I don’t get that reference, and the information given was in plain sight.”
“What happened to being a bundle of joy?”
He elected to ignore that one.
The Pryfektus had made her way over while Kerberos hadn’t been looking, and a cursory glance showed her face was again flush from the Ideneus’ words. “I am capable, yes. That is why I am Pryfektus. Everything else, beauty included, is secondary to my obligations as an officer of the Drakonrhedi.” Though her words, like every other strand since the other man’s arrival, meant nothing but a coverup for her embarrassment. He could see that now.
Kerberos huffed again. “Suddenly your nature since your arrival makes so much more sense, Ideneus.” He stepped closer to him, perhaps a little too close, and said in a breathy voice, “Perhaps you can show me how you do that, Silvertongue. I would kill to know your secrets.”
The male was spontaneous. The female he could read in a book and know who she was. She had to have creativity, yes, and perhaps he could glean that from her, but most of her knowledge was stuck in a book, a manual on a shelf. But him? He had something that one cannot really write down. Or maybe one could. Kerberos never did much writing.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 7, 2014 6:25:16 GMT
“That was my intent, yes. Congratulations.”
Sannidar grinned, giving a flamboyant bow in return.
“Courting. As in mating rituals?”
He nodded to the Iduneus. "Yes. Boyfriend-girlfriend, proposing, engagement, marriage, the whole shebang." And the bang part. Lots of that. Especially combined with the 'she' part. It was kind of the entire point, after all.
“I don’t believe so. I haven’t found anyone worth vying for.”
"Well maybe you should start looking, eh?"
His attention was torn away, however, by Larael's commentary. "I am capable, yes. That is why I am Pryfektus. Everything else, beauty included, is secondary to my obligations as an officer of the Drakonrhedi."
Wow, she was good at waving away compliments. But he was getting past her, he knew it. He could tell, as even as she denied it, her cheeks flushed.
"So businesslike, too. A true professional."
Before he could say much more, the other Iduneus spoke up.
“Suddenly your nature since your arrival makes so much more sense, Iduneus. Perhaps you can show me how you do that, Silvertongue. I would kill to know your secrets.”
Sannidar chuckled. "Well, luckily, no homicide will be necessary this time around. You've already got the first step down, after all. Flattery. It'll getcha anywhere."
His laughter ceased, but his grin did not. Silvertongue. I like it. Today seems like a pretty good day, all in all.
He'd probably just have to teach this rather awkward Iduneus how to play to his attractive points (Probably mystery, exotic air--that's worked for me in the past) and probably give him the talk. Ahhh, that'd be not very enjoyable. Poor lad, having no education in these matters at all.
He sure was missing out.
Notes: I'M SORRY HERE
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