Jane had made her assertion of the gentleman. He may not be a demon, but she was pretty sure he had no honourable intentions for the summation of their interaction. Despite herself, however, Jane felt a bit of her younger self springing back into her words as she felt his gaze sliding along her body. In spite of her pitiful mood, she rose beneath his gaze to match his imposing stature. She was no wilting daisy, regardless of what had befallen her.
Isaar, Jane’s husband, was completely blind. In a war he had lost his vision entirely, and the left eyeball had been removed. In its place stood a gaping hole, with a pale scar that darted like a ghost from his bottom eyelid, over the bridge of his nose and down into the remaining eye. He could see faint shadows but nothing more.
Still, he had requested a beautiful wife. He needn’t look at her, he just needed the knowledge that she was beautiful.
As such, Isaar very rarely deigned to even look at Jane. No menace or cruelty existed in this neglect, but it still rankled inside the mare. Especially when assisted by the fact that Jane was clearly aware of her beauty, and that said beauty was wasted upon her husband. She thought with fondness of the golden vines that raced up over her mahogany coat, the gold that rimmed her amber eyes and made her gaze just that bit more piercing.
The stallion grinned at Jane’s accusation, and Jane shifted subtly to face him. “Is it that odd for a married woman to be by herself?” Irony dripped along her voice, not with cruelty but with a sweet curiosity. “Where I come from, it’s the unmarried who get accompanied. Perhaps it is different here?” Of course, Jane had lived for that time in Solterra, but it had not necessarily been the… usual experience of a maiden in the Day Court.
But then the stallion accused her former mood. Described her smile as brittle and her heart as crying. Was I that obvious?
“If that is truly your attention, then you are deserving of thanks.” She tilted her chin slightly, analysing him even as she spoke.
But then the conversation continued and Jane pushed past the sudden feeling of exposure. He teased her, seeming to want to make her laugh. And perhaps a part of her was inclined to do so, but Jane did not give in yet. It was not out of a lack of amusement, however, but an undercurrent of competition that made laughter feel like a submission. He would not win her so easily. “I know your name, knight. I am asking for its meaning, since you so deftly knew mine.”
Tagged; @
i've never felt more alone
it feels so scary getting old
[/b]
