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Her soft giggle and her purred ”Is that a promise, lekker?” did little to ease the uncomfortable sensation radiating from his groin. It was too hot and tight to handle such suggestions from the House of Law’s colorful jewel. He snorted against her teasing tail flick, his own jaws parting to nip her haunches as he began to pursue her into the water. The liquid was much cooler with the turn of the season, and felt good against his dried-sweat hide; the feathers of his feet floated, weightless, in the clear water. “Dit is nie ek wat moet belowe,” he muttered slightly under his breath as he pursued her, remembering full well that it was always she that ended their romantic endeavors before he was ever fully satisfied.
But before their playful flirtations could grow any less playful, a deep voice rumbled from behind them. It was a signature voice, easily recognized and rarely missed whenever spoken. A sigh gusted out of his dark muzzle—foiled again. Though the vulture had the wherewithal to look contrite (if still mildly irritated) by his King’s rebuke. “Apologies, my King,” he offhandedly muttered— though it was covered by Saar’s glare and accusatory words.
The vulture shifted uneasily once, raptor stare darting from Elephant to Korofi woman, “Hy is nie Banderi, hy is Koning,” his words were slightly pleading, until they grew bitter as he spoke his next, “En hy het niks gedoen om my.” His implication was clear: the vulture was no longer of his Korofi family. He had renounced his family and no longer lumped himself with the Kahare House.
And at her next words to the Elephant King, a slight and uncharactirsic tension began to gather around his black-marked eyes. “Asseblief, soet kleur,” his murmur was quiet, pleading, as his muzzle reached out to gently nuzzle and lip her mane and shoulder, “Jy tot dusver het gereis, gee hom 'n kans.”
Then, turning his attention to his king, he spoke in the common tongue, “This is Saartjie, of the Senzaok House. I know her from Korofi.” He thought to add that she wished to find a home in the Edge—but he knew better than to speak on behalf of fierce Korofi women.
Dit is nie ek wat moet below = It is not I who must promise.
Hy is nie Banderi, hy is Koning = He is not Banderi, he is King
En hy het niks gedoen om my = And he has done nothing to me.
Asseblief, soet kleur, gee hom 'n kans= Please, sweet color.
Jy tot dusver het gereis, gee hom 'n rans = You've traveled so far, give him a chance
But before their playful flirtations could grow any less playful, a deep voice rumbled from behind them. It was a signature voice, easily recognized and rarely missed whenever spoken. A sigh gusted out of his dark muzzle—foiled again. Though the vulture had the wherewithal to look contrite (if still mildly irritated) by his King’s rebuke. “Apologies, my King,” he offhandedly muttered— though it was covered by Saar’s glare and accusatory words.
The vulture shifted uneasily once, raptor stare darting from Elephant to Korofi woman, “Hy is nie Banderi, hy is Koning,” his words were slightly pleading, until they grew bitter as he spoke his next, “En hy het niks gedoen om my.” His implication was clear: the vulture was no longer of his Korofi family. He had renounced his family and no longer lumped himself with the Kahare House.
And at her next words to the Elephant King, a slight and uncharactirsic tension began to gather around his black-marked eyes. “Asseblief, soet kleur,” his murmur was quiet, pleading, as his muzzle reached out to gently nuzzle and lip her mane and shoulder, “Jy tot dusver het gereis, gee hom 'n kans.”
Then, turning his attention to his king, he spoke in the common tongue, “This is Saartjie, of the Senzaok House. I know her from Korofi.” He thought to add that she wished to find a home in the Edge—but he knew better than to speak on behalf of fierce Korofi women.
Dit is nie ek wat moet below = It is not I who must promise.
Hy is nie Banderi, hy is Koning = He is not Banderi, he is King
En hy het niks gedoen om my = And he has done nothing to me.
Asseblief, soet kleur, gee hom 'n kans= Please, sweet color.
Jy tot dusver het gereis, gee hom 'n rans = You've traveled so far, give him a chance
graasvoel
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