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Not surprisingly, it isn’t long before the dirty creature pivots about angrily. What is surprising, however, is the nonsense that falls out of her mouth. Pinning my ears at her instinctively, and defensively (perhaps a bit aggressively, after all), angling my horn between myself and her rather unique face.
Honestly, they come to our country, and they can’t learn our language?
As if the fact that I have an almost rabid, dirt covered wench to deal with isn’t enough, a familiar, cajoling voice reaches my ears; my mind puts a face to him without looking, and Duir’s mental bond sends a duplicate image, when he does turn to see who it is shouting.
"Well cut-em-uppa me-and-you-a to you too," I waspishly retort with as much dominance as I can muster, lion’s tail swaying irritably behind me. I don’t really want to kick her ass (or even touch her at all, really), but I’m also not the sort to back down just because she’s, I don’t know, hormonal or something. Maybe she’s this horrible all the time, and a good kick or two might do her some good; I’ll happily deliver the dosage, if she so desires.
I take the time that she’s looking at the bag of dust and laughing at his juvenile comments to lay molten gold eyes on the jester myself. Another fellow who could use a nice round measure of hoof to face, I find his rudeness no less irritating than I had the last time we’d met. Thankfully for him, I’m in a better mood today, and this scrappy badger woman is far more pressing a matter than even his best taunts.
"You, sir, are the worst loser in the history of Helovia," is said with a roll of my eyes, returning them to the ugly unusual female in wariness of her obviously foul temper.
Mavuto, she’s called. She is looking for a General. More nonsense that I can’t comprehend spews from her mouth, and my eyebrow rises no sooner than it starts. Still, she seems embarrassed enough by her lack of social etiquette, and what she says next is interesting.
Both brows rise this time, my gaze flitting towards the elderly asshole to see if he knows who she’s asking about as well as I do. I don’t really have time to assess much about his expression, however, before my nearest ear to the dirty she-demon is filled with an angry demand and a false title.
Charming? I think, eyes wide with surprise at being bellowed at, and a smile lingering on my lips as I look back at her that she’d called me such a thing, and I thought you didn’t like me!
"King Tembovu, you mean?" I taunt, one brow teasingly rising on my handsome face; my golden eyes seemingly wander off into the tree line, a boyishly shit-headed smirk cast towards the old man (who seemed the sort to understand this sort of behavior, from what little I’d garnered of him, anyway), "Maybe I do know of your General. What do you want him for, hm?"
Suddenly, I let my golden eyes snap back on her, their luminous color shuttered by narrowed lids.
"Someone like you, can’t be anything very nice."
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status: creature with which one does not fuck
