I'm the hero of this story
I don't need to be saved
I don't need to be saved
To his relief she does not pull a dagger on him, though her eyes are no less sharp and silver, and they have yet to stray from his own.
There is a part of him still chasing after the man in the marketplace, wondering what alleys he’s winding down, what shadowed places he’s using to hide. August knows he couldn’t have been alone in his attempt to assassinate Aghavni; that somewhere like a nest of vipers are evil men planning evil deeds. But with each heartbeat and each rainbow pattern of diamond that washes like moonlight or jaguar-spots over the pegasus’s neck, his anger recedes. He was never much for hunting, anyway. Such violent revenge was never his particular talent, no matter his skill with weaponry. (Still he thinks he would have no problem putting teeth to throat. He will search again.)
In the brightness of the day and the dark shadows of her skin it takes him a moment to see the garnet at her throat, a sickle moon. He would like to admire it further, but her wide-eyed gaze draws him back like a lodestone. August is not sure he has ever been looked at in such a way, though he can’t quite say what that way is. Something terribly young and new, or ancient as the world; something both wild and wondering.
“A red stallion with golden eyes like a cat,” he says, in the unlikely circumstance she knows him. “A bit gangly and ragged. Not nearly so handsome as me.” He reaches for his usual smile; it feels duller here under the winter sun. He has been called vain before (by Minya at least, and he’s sure there are more) for the care he takes with his braids and his coat and even polishing the ring in his nose; she’d always rolled her eyes at his explanation that his success depended as much on his looks as hers did. But since the ship, since leaving the Scarab, he has abandoned such habits. So intent is this stranger’s stare that he has to make an effort not to feel self-conscious.
At last she looks away, and now it is his turn to watch as she settles her glossy feathers against her sides. There has been no cessation in the chaos of the market; others are starting to give them dirty looks for blocking the pathway, and August looks up and narrows his eyes at a seller who has been edging nearer, no doubt hoping for a captive audience.
“Because a thousand years of sun and heat have addled their brains, leaving arrogance and brutishness as their defining characteristics.” Now he can really feel the stares from those surrounding them; he flashes his best it’s a joke grin and flicks his tail, at the same time ignoring the niggling feeling of guilt. He knows Anghavni would not appreciate his remarks, and he should know better than to make them. He doesn’t even truly believe them. Much.
August looks back at her, that diamond-flake shine just a hint in the daylight like the glimmer of stars through a veil. “What brings you here today? With a necklace like yours, I’m surprised you’re not swarmed with merchants right now.”
@Warset
