Copperhead.
Caine’s pupils slitted when he stared into the brilliant orange disc of the setting sun. Reflected upon the waves was a second sun, a ghostly twin, its presence summoned by the joining of the sky and sea. Lower and lower the ghost sank, meeting its death in the waves.
At times, he could be more poetic than a bard. I should ask Fia if it would be a fitting occupation for me, he thought, until he remembered that Fia currently dreamed of his head on a pike. He winced — it was always something of a shock seeing himself in another one’s dreams, and in such a manner... well, he supposed he deserved it.
He blinked when the newcomer stepped closer, draping him in her shadow. Her gaze sought his so he gave it to her, though he still saw orange where there should have been crimson. The sun had burned itself into his eyes, and it would be a few moments more until it returned to him his sight.
No matter. Caine had seen her before the light had reached him, and her coloring had been striking enough for a name to attach itself easily to her features. Raum's newest spy would not be doing his job well (“for King and Country,” he’d sworn — though he wondered if Raum had believed him) if he'd failed to familiarize himself with the faces and habits of his new mistress, Denocte.
Boudika was her name. Or, as some had called her, Copperhead. Like the snake, though she didn't look very menacing.
“So do I,” she said, in answer to his warning. Her words carried an accent, and it was not Denoctian.
“Oh? In that case, I think you’ll earn their respect easily.” Intrigued, Caine followed her uneasy stare down towards the nesting birds, and was relieved to find them unchanged. By how they had acted before, he wouldn't be surprised if he’d found a pair of pterodactyls leering up at him.
“How much of the island have you looked at?”
He turned to address the girl properly. “Only that,” he said, nodding amiably at the unbirdlike birds. “Though I’m sure things will only get stranger the further in one goes.”
He ran his gaze lightly over her spiralling horns and closely cut mane. Besides her name and her reputation as a dancer (he'd seen her performing at a tavern he'd stopped in just a few days ago), Caine knew little else about her.
He was still for a moment, thinking. He’d headed for the island intending to explore it alone — to take his mind off of the den of vipers he’d pitched himself headlong into — but perhaps a companion would not be a terrible idea.
“Supposedly, there’s a statue of a unicorn with an inscription carved upon it a little ways ahead. I was heading there myself, before —” before I was hissed at by a bird. The corner of his mouth twitched before he drew it into a carefree smile.
“Perhaps our meeting is the island’s way of telling us that two is safer than one.”
Caine’s pupils slitted when he stared into the brilliant orange disc of the setting sun. Reflected upon the waves was a second sun, a ghostly twin, its presence summoned by the joining of the sky and sea. Lower and lower the ghost sank, meeting its death in the waves.
At times, he could be more poetic than a bard. I should ask Fia if it would be a fitting occupation for me, he thought, until he remembered that Fia currently dreamed of his head on a pike. He winced — it was always something of a shock seeing himself in another one’s dreams, and in such a manner... well, he supposed he deserved it.
He blinked when the newcomer stepped closer, draping him in her shadow. Her gaze sought his so he gave it to her, though he still saw orange where there should have been crimson. The sun had burned itself into his eyes, and it would be a few moments more until it returned to him his sight.
No matter. Caine had seen her before the light had reached him, and her coloring had been striking enough for a name to attach itself easily to her features. Raum's newest spy would not be doing his job well (“for King and Country,” he’d sworn — though he wondered if Raum had believed him) if he'd failed to familiarize himself with the faces and habits of his new mistress, Denocte.
Boudika was her name. Or, as some had called her, Copperhead. Like the snake, though she didn't look very menacing.
“So do I,” she said, in answer to his warning. Her words carried an accent, and it was not Denoctian.
“Oh? In that case, I think you’ll earn their respect easily.” Intrigued, Caine followed her uneasy stare down towards the nesting birds, and was relieved to find them unchanged. By how they had acted before, he wouldn't be surprised if he’d found a pair of pterodactyls leering up at him.
“How much of the island have you looked at?”
He turned to address the girl properly. “Only that,” he said, nodding amiably at the unbirdlike birds. “Though I’m sure things will only get stranger the further in one goes.”
He ran his gaze lightly over her spiralling horns and closely cut mane. Besides her name and her reputation as a dancer (he'd seen her performing at a tavern he'd stopped in just a few days ago), Caine knew little else about her.
He was still for a moment, thinking. He’d headed for the island intending to explore it alone — to take his mind off of the den of vipers he’d pitched himself headlong into — but perhaps a companion would not be a terrible idea.
“Supposedly, there’s a statue of a unicorn with an inscription carved upon it a little ways ahead. I was heading there myself, before —” before I was hissed at by a bird. The corner of his mouth twitched before he drew it into a carefree smile.
“Perhaps our meeting is the island’s way of telling us that two is safer than one.”
@Boudika | "speaks" | notes: hope it's ok that he knows a little of her already!
