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11-21-2012, 10:29 AM
She spoke a little more, words offering flattery that were well-received. It wasn’t often that this lad obtained an honest pat on the back. Skull leaned toward her when breath scrapped his shoulder, tone basically saying, “You do well.” Hearing what to him seemed to be complements, an unexpected warmth fell over his soul; in that same note her trust caused stress. Midas was a person that tried to think very little on the amount of weight that had fell upon broad shoulders, and of how family relied on choices he made. Tamira proved this ideal to be true, she thought highly of a man that knew little about her and she of him. It was for this reason he was pushed to overcome something feared, not over earthly things, like pain, starvation, and war; but the terror of failure. The general was finding reason to be grateful for this; it was good that their friendship developed. The woman’s next statement rang true in his ears, "It seems that our respective talents and skills will be rather complimentary, once I gain mine," a mimicking humorous smile was her only response, but eyes seemed to beam tenderly, liquid golden softness melting bottomless pools,"But for now, I'm afraid that you are much more interesting than I." The collar around his neck pulsed when mind turned to scattered thoughts of battle. He always prayed for wellbeing, but the time would come when body couldn’t be spared from the horrors that surely would come. People like Tamira would heal his physical self. Gazing outward he answered, “I pray that your talents go unneeded, though I doubt my vain prayers put you out of work.” |
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