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01-16-2014, 08:11 PM
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The angel's halt is anticipated, a gift brought from a long history of waiting on others. The little slave girl has grown used to the subtle, tell-tale signs that her superiors give off, and so as her Mistress halts before the stream, the buckskin stops fluidly behind her. Her gaze ought to remain planted firmly to the ground, she knows, but she cannot resist a bashful glance towards her Mistress's face, which has lowered to meet the water. The moment does not last, for the fae rapidly returns to staring avidly at the seraphim's heels, but it calms her all the same. She likes to think that she sees kindness in her Mistress. But perhaps she is only imagining things. She is thirsty, but she will not drink. Her throat is parched, dry both from the journey and from lack of use, but she will not ask for reprieve. It is her duty to stand tall (or at least as tall as her 13.3-hand bodice can muster) and proud and silent, waiting for the next order, the next request, the next demand. It is her job - no, it is her life - to give and sacrifice for her superiors, and so she stubbornly waits, not even daring to hope that the angel will show mercy and invite her to drink. Besides, even if her Mistress asks her to take a drink, it will probably be a test of her resolve, of her character. Most slave owners would as soon kick a slave as offer them a drink, after all. The beautiful voice wafts lazily on the air, slicing through the little slave girl's wandering thoughts. "Th-this..." she begins in a voice hoarse with disuse, but she cannot continue - a horrible cough erupts from her chest, and it is a moment before the girl can calm her aching throat. She is horrified, embarrassed, but she continues as though nothing has transpired. "This one's name is Kaiylia, Your Grace," the slave girl says, her vocals polite and pleasant (if a bit rough). Her words are accompanied by a deep, arching bow of the head. The title is a high one, reserved for the nobility of her homeland, but she is almost certain that it is the right one for the seraphim. She has been trained in such things, after all. She hopes that the angel won't give her a new name, but sometimes owners did such things. After all, she is only an object, and her name doesn't matter. All that matters is her service. @[Zuriel] "Talk talk talk." |
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