And just like that, the moment of solitary contemplation was ruined.
She had been downwind, so he hadn't caught her scent, and the soft shushing of his mane and tail dragging along the grassy earth had masked the lightness of her steps. That, and he had been paying attention to nothing but the questions clanking around in his skull and the tugging of the relic's magic in his muscled chest. Ears pressed against his skull for a moment at the sound of her bubbly, bright, girlish voice, before perking back up and swiveling toward her.
Silvery eyes were still trained upon the ground before him, but he slowed his heavy steps to match her own.
Camdis Lohir was a dick, a jerk, a crass and bitter fool, but he was not entirely without manners; especially when those manners had been literally and figuratively beaten into him by years of tutors and their heavy-handed methods. So he gave her his attention, whether or not he deserved hers.
At her statements, he felt his lip begin to curl, and was shocked to find that her flippant remarks could stab at his heart with such casual ease. Did she know? Could she somehow see the sin etched into his soul with every step that he took? He shook his head at himself, no no no, there was no way. Sins weren't visible, were they? They couldn't be, for how else could murderers and depraved souls walk about amongst the masses with no one the wiser?
Taking a deep breath, Camdis Lohir finally tore his eyes from the earth at his hooves and straightened, fixing the slightly shorter mare in his sights. Quickly, he gave an assessment - bubbly had been an apt description, though beautiful could be added to the list of descriptors for the lass. Despite her beauty, though, there's something slithering beneath it; a cruelty, perhaps, though that word did not feel quite right when placed alongside the mare. Manipulative, serpentine, tactful - now those were words that he would pin to the maiden's hide without remorse. Cocking his head, the Exile King raised a brow and allowed his baritone to fill the short silence that had sprouted between them, though his voice was scratchy with disuse, "Your use of sarcasm is spot on, Pretty Bexley, I have near nothing to live for. I'd have thrown myself onto a blade by now if I wasn't so worried that I'd fail at that, too."
His voice held no trace of self pity, no inflection that could imply that he wanted any sort of sympathy or for anyone to attempt to relate to him. No, his eyes were shuttered and his expression blank. He spoke as if he were just remarking on the weather, having accepted his position as a blemish upon the earth's surface long ago.
"My name is Camdis Lohir. Do you get off on bothering strangers?"
She had been downwind, so he hadn't caught her scent, and the soft shushing of his mane and tail dragging along the grassy earth had masked the lightness of her steps. That, and he had been paying attention to nothing but the questions clanking around in his skull and the tugging of the relic's magic in his muscled chest. Ears pressed against his skull for a moment at the sound of her bubbly, bright, girlish voice, before perking back up and swiveling toward her.
Silvery eyes were still trained upon the ground before him, but he slowed his heavy steps to match her own.
Camdis Lohir was a dick, a jerk, a crass and bitter fool, but he was not entirely without manners; especially when those manners had been literally and figuratively beaten into him by years of tutors and their heavy-handed methods. So he gave her his attention, whether or not he deserved hers.
At her statements, he felt his lip begin to curl, and was shocked to find that her flippant remarks could stab at his heart with such casual ease. Did she know? Could she somehow see the sin etched into his soul with every step that he took? He shook his head at himself, no no no, there was no way. Sins weren't visible, were they? They couldn't be, for how else could murderers and depraved souls walk about amongst the masses with no one the wiser?
Taking a deep breath, Camdis Lohir finally tore his eyes from the earth at his hooves and straightened, fixing the slightly shorter mare in his sights. Quickly, he gave an assessment - bubbly had been an apt description, though beautiful could be added to the list of descriptors for the lass. Despite her beauty, though, there's something slithering beneath it; a cruelty, perhaps, though that word did not feel quite right when placed alongside the mare. Manipulative, serpentine, tactful - now those were words that he would pin to the maiden's hide without remorse. Cocking his head, the Exile King raised a brow and allowed his baritone to fill the short silence that had sprouted between them, though his voice was scratchy with disuse, "Your use of sarcasm is spot on, Pretty Bexley, I have near nothing to live for. I'd have thrown myself onto a blade by now if I wasn't so worried that I'd fail at that, too."
His voice held no trace of self pity, no inflection that could imply that he wanted any sort of sympathy or for anyone to attempt to relate to him. No, his eyes were shuttered and his expression blank. He spoke as if he were just remarking on the weather, having accepted his position as a blemish upon the earth's surface long ago.
"My name is Camdis Lohir. Do you get off on bothering strangers?"
AAAAHHH I LOVE HER SO MUCH YAAS @
