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p a v e t t a - - -
Pavetta didn’t recognize him at first glance but thought maybe she should. His scent was familiar, family, almost. Delumine, perhaps. She did not know nearly enough of her people and there were newcomers every day; it was easy to lose track of who she had met and who she hadn't. Certainly she would remember a man of his coloring; the bold, feral markings, the wild curl to his cream and ebony hair. Strange, beautiful jewelry of a simple, primitive style. Violet, serious eyes through the skull mask.
She was shocked, suddenly, confronted with a ghost.
She’d seen her father once, from a distance. This man was not he, but she could not help but feel drawn to him, to the familiar markings and the intensity of his eyes. She wondered where he came from and what his story was. Maybe he only smelled of the lush forests of Delumine because he had visited recently, just passing through. Either way she intended to find out. She smiled encouragingly as he joined her—his mannerisms were polite, reserved. He needn’t be so distant; she moved closer, her tail lazily, idly swishing flies from the both of them.
“I am,” she admitted with a sigh, glad of the company in the sea of strangers. All the courts gathered in peace. A truly wondrous thing in itself for the four courts to mingle and converse amiably, but Pavetta could not shake the doubt, the suspicion that lingered in her bones. A permanent chill that made her sweat feel icy on her skin instead of hot, as she should be from the climb. “I worry about what is happening and what it all might mean.” Her smile tightened, forced.
She was about to ask him if he had traveled with the entourage from Delumine but someone else joined them, a golden woman with viper eyes, beautiful swaying hips, and a scar across her face. Pavetta could tell it was recent; the fleshed was still raised and pink but the tissue had hardened. She would not have taken the delicate lady with golden chain around her throat as a warrior but for those sharp eyes and brutal scar. But then, people were often not what they seemed. Pavetta felt neither of her new acquaintances were people to be trifled with. The lady’s voice was swathed in smoke; an easy, careless, brazen tone. Hellhole is right.
“What do you make of it?” Pavetta asked both, searching their faces. “I’m Pavetta, Caretaker of Delumine,” she added as an after thought. “What courts are you both from?"
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
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@Bexley @Kauri
06-10-2018, 08:30 PM
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