—ira—
I am. I transferred to this Court for a position as a body guard. I originally hail from Solterra. I am Voodoo. Ira finds this information somewhat surprising, in that the other man is not a native. He supposes, now that Voodoo has spoken, Ira recognizes it in the subtle shifts of their different, regional accents.
“Ira,” he returns, politely. Their dispositions are not clashing, insomuch that Ira speaks cooly, nearly curtly, to most. The vast majority of his thoughts and feelings he keeps beneath a mild expression.
He listens to the other stallion describe the markets; he finds himself making a noncommittal noise of agreement. “Well put. Perhaps you’re more of a native than you say,” Ira says, with an air of severity that makes it difficult to tell if he’s joking. He is, but his humor has always been the dryer sort.
So… what does a resident of Denocte do for fun? he asks.
Would he be a son of Denocte if his eyes did not flash, as a fox’s do, before striking the mouse hidden in the grass? Ira’s smile is brief and flitting and feral. “That question requires an example ,” Ira says, stepping forward and down the the pathway, toward the city. He casts a glance over his shoulder. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Ira,” he returns, politely. Their dispositions are not clashing, insomuch that Ira speaks cooly, nearly curtly, to most. The vast majority of his thoughts and feelings he keeps beneath a mild expression.
He listens to the other stallion describe the markets; he finds himself making a noncommittal noise of agreement. “Well put. Perhaps you’re more of a native than you say,” Ira says, with an air of severity that makes it difficult to tell if he’s joking. He is, but his humor has always been the dryer sort.
So… what does a resident of Denocte do for fun? he asks.
Would he be a son of Denocte if his eyes did not flash, as a fox’s do, before striking the mouse hidden in the grass? Ira’s smile is brief and flitting and feral. “That question requires an example ,” Ira says, stepping forward and down the the pathway, toward the city. He casts a glance over his shoulder. “Would you like me to show you?”
How we live is so different from how we ought to live that he who studies what ought to be done rather than what is done will learn the way to his downfall rather than to his preservation.
@Voodoo
