I AM THE KING OF LIES
Perhaps it was her skill as a warrior that had first drew his attention. Perhaps it was her hair, ribbon of moonlight in the night(he was still a man, after all), or perhaps it was the wit which with she danced with him. Words with words behind them, sounds with meanings unspoken, the lifeblood and air the raven lived and breathed. She was, admittedly, clumsier than he, but she showed a cleverness that held promise, that held more than his brief conversation with Reichenbach had bore and what was more... she showed him interest. She had pursued him with tenacity, persisted in attempts to weedle him from Denocte, had shown him glimpses of something he hungered for even if she knew not that she had shown him. He knew not what had possessed him to offer a dance in turn for his ear, perhaps it was his neglect or perhaps it was his own insatiable curiosity, but he was as surprising as it was, a man of his word. "I would'st be a fool to nary question thine determination, just as thou doth not question mine evasion." If she knew why he skirted her, it would both give her hope and despair in equal measure, for he held no love nor loyalty now to Denocte... but neither did he wish to see himself under the yoke of another ruler who would claim to use him well.
The raven had seen his wings torn asunder by a sovereign, had seen another hoist them on a shelf and leave them to dust, and had become wary of this mare who would see him oath-bound to another sovereign who he knew naught of. Experience warred with desire, memory with hunger, mind with heart as she stepped closer to him, her side brushing his in such a faint caress that, in combination with her words, almost wholly disarmed the black stag as he barked out what was, to him, a loud laugh(in truth it was more a soft breath of laughter). "Fool be he who doth not hold nary a question and whom think the world holds naught for intrigue." He quoted softly, straightening fluidly from his bow even as the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement he earnestly felt. "Art thou certain thine leg can withstand such vigor?" He hummed low, just loud enough for her ears to catch even as his own picked up the faint trails of music wafting through the trees.
The tune was unfamiliar, words sung of a land foreign to him in a tongue nearly estranged from his own, but the sway of the drums and ringing of the guitar was timeless, and sharp was his mine. Slowly he moved on light feet, his gaze leaving hers to regard her body as a whole, to match his movements to her and allow her to lead their dance, a silent test and quirked brow of question all she received from him as guidance.
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