There's a universal sensation that accompanies the moment someone new enters a scene - a visceral Metal Gear alert, if you will. Raymond got the full effect as a collared stranger spoke up midway through a long stroke of his blade.
You might refrain from being seen sharpening that.
The red stallion paused abruptly and tilted his head quizzically, meeting her smoldering eye before slowly following through with the interrupted arc. "I'm sorry," he replied with blithe puzzlement. "Should I hide in the bushes so people really start asking questions?" Certainly if he had been worried about disturbing the peace, he'd have chosen to center his contribution to the festival around something other than his skill with the blade. Perhaps some light stand-up.
Certainly Raymond teased, but there was neither malice nor impatience in his jovial tone. He'd always loved a good party; the stormy-eyed mare would not dampen his spirits over what likely amounted to a misunderstanding. She carried herself like a levee under pressure, holding back a roiling, tumultuous sea (which is to say she reminded him of Calliope in her intensity, though he imagined the similarity ended there).
"Unfortunately I cannot disarm myself. But this is an art festival, and I would hope the hosts would understand if an artist needed to look after the tools of his trade." As he spoke his tail had fallen easily into its usual loose curl, the blade turned in a soft upward arc. Leopards telegraphed their intentions similarly when not hunting, letting their white-tipped tail inform one and all of their presence as a peace offering. When you are the weapon, you have to speak plainly.
After a beat of silence, Raymond launched once more into the sort of charismatic positivity he had worn on stage. "I haven't disrupted your peace, I hope. I'm Raymond." He tipped his head slightly, causing the crown of sword-lilies to slip slightly. "Would you like a crown? The splendidly talented gentleman over there made this one for me, but I doubt he'd mind if I paid it forward."
You might refrain from being seen sharpening that.
The red stallion paused abruptly and tilted his head quizzically, meeting her smoldering eye before slowly following through with the interrupted arc. "I'm sorry," he replied with blithe puzzlement. "Should I hide in the bushes so people really start asking questions?" Certainly if he had been worried about disturbing the peace, he'd have chosen to center his contribution to the festival around something other than his skill with the blade. Perhaps some light stand-up.
Certainly Raymond teased, but there was neither malice nor impatience in his jovial tone. He'd always loved a good party; the stormy-eyed mare would not dampen his spirits over what likely amounted to a misunderstanding. She carried herself like a levee under pressure, holding back a roiling, tumultuous sea (which is to say she reminded him of Calliope in her intensity, though he imagined the similarity ended there).
"Unfortunately I cannot disarm myself. But this is an art festival, and I would hope the hosts would understand if an artist needed to look after the tools of his trade." As he spoke his tail had fallen easily into its usual loose curl, the blade turned in a soft upward arc. Leopards telegraphed their intentions similarly when not hunting, letting their white-tipped tail inform one and all of their presence as a peace offering. When you are the weapon, you have to speak plainly.
After a beat of silence, Raymond launched once more into the sort of charismatic positivity he had worn on stage. "I haven't disrupted your peace, I hope. I'm Raymond." He tipped his head slightly, causing the crown of sword-lilies to slip slightly. "Would you like a crown? The splendidly talented gentleman over there made this one for me, but I doubt he'd mind if I paid it forward."
Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
@Teiran