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07-24-2014, 10:41 AM
She touched him. Gold coat covering his shoulder flinched and flickered, like pulling from a fly’s touch. It was before he began his tale of woe and pain, and it almost broke it. The golden boy froze for a moment. Then he refocused himself to his role, and continued to feel the proud and malicious feelings of before. The damsel may think it nothing more than his outcast life leaving him unused to the situation, but that was only the illusion in her eyes. The gold wished it was the explanation itself, certainly would make the thing a whole lot simpler. Yet, she had touched him. What a curious moment. The golden had certainly felt the smooth touch of a lady friend, but they were usually hot and pulsed with electricity. He had also been falsely comforted before, twisting a lie and pulling a heart string or two. Still the first touch was an odd sensation. His heart hadn’t raced, his knees didn’t wobble. So don’t go thinking he was melting before her sweet true gaze. No bright light was breaking through his dark heart. Still, it was a curious incident even the gold with all his self-proclaiming knowledge could not fully understand.
His words distracted even himself, proof they were well crafted. The feeling of wickedness returning, watering down whatever strange drink he just tasted. So confusion returns to a smirk of satisfaction as he saw her caught up in his web of gold. Her lines grow heavy, her mood solemn. Perhaps his tale was too dark. Yet, that might be what has caught her. There was always the chance he got her mind wrong however little he considered it as a possibility. Oh but look there she’s fallen. Her eyes open to tremble and worry for him. Golden chest stifles a laugh at her gullibility and innocence. She might have fought battles and worn blood, but she knew next to nothing of his world. When she moves next to sidle next to him and brush his side the golden is already sealed shut again. He feels her warm coat against him, her hot breath leaning in to comfort him, but does nothing more than secure for him that he’s wrapped her up tight. There might have been a hint of unease. Some sign of the previous feelings rising again, perhaps, but it was the silent child in the corner of a rave of wicked satisfaction.
That damsel wanted more though. Like those writer of fanfiction, prequels, and sequels, she wanted to know more. In a way it almost put him off. Was his carefully crafted painting of traitorous heartbreak not enough? Did it not satisfy her to see the emotion, to see the heart break? She wanted him to delve more inside those feelings. If those feelings were real that is. The damsel desired more. You desire what you like. Frustration began to melt away. The child wanted more because it wasn’t enough. It was such a classic, one of a kind painting, she could not just read the description of it in a book. Her eyes, or harks in this matter, need to know it better. It’s amazing the gold’s chest didn’t swell of three sizes bigger.
The gold would need to tread carefully though. Detail was needed to keep her from asking again, but too much , like names, and times would expose the thin wires he was controlled by. Comforting was the notion that the damsel accepted vagueness, and filled in the blanks. Nares in held with pride, then in realization, let it release in a shaken, broken exhale. Eyes searched forward, remembering times they never saw. Mind was swirling pulling threads of lost tales. Weariness returning slightly. Story chosen. Voice, distant and softer. “Her. She was beautiful and light hearted.” Shaking the twined horned head free of the grip of memory the Spanish neck pulled it up. The solidity of him returning after the break in his conscience. “When a child can prove her innocence and the judge not force guilt upon her, the executioner can no longer serve.” Eyes shifted down. He needed to end the tale. Wrap it up. Prevent questions. “It did little good. Her worthy life lost, and mine turned to traitor on the run.” Such a dark tale. The clever spinning gold found it too dark. This wounded knight, this righteous traitor on the run would not be so pessimistic. That was the gold’s sarcasm getting too in the way. So picking his head up he smiles wearily at the black and white damsel. “Still, you’ll only know you live in darkness if you find the day, and things are certainly looking brighter in this peaceful time.” Nicely worded, such a clever liar aren’t you?
The damsel speaks though, reassuringly so. Little did she know, her pouring out concern and empathy were thrown to a cardboard cut-out. The gold had not yet fallen to any of his lady’s evil and honestly, he never intended too. The gold was above that, above being tainted by her petty views that demanded power. That is possibly why it was so key she know. Those gold thread could be spun all day and create all kinds of webs, but in the moment, the golden needed her to appreciate it. Her mind was looking at the bark on the trunk, not knowing what to call the thing for she saw it so close. The damsel felt it, it pulled her, but she was blinded. He cared not if she finally saw the forest, but damn it she would see that this was a tree.
Still, she’d mentioned someone. They changed her, but she neglected who or how. When a whining baby in another room finally shuts up, you best see about why. Head tilted and gold dusted eyes narrowed. Why was the damsel who could talk herself to the moon and back being vague. Payback for her former questions came to bear. “A good friend should be recognized, who was it that aided you…Or rather, what version did they know?” Pay up, he gave you details, now it’s your turn. Only, unlike you we don’t take credit, hard cash only please.
Earth eyes sparked when she spoke to his question. Yes, she’s got it. A gentle smile grows that might not be all too far from the face which lies hidden. Oh but then she proves why she’s still a student, and why she can not see that damned tree. For the first time, a hint of frustration slips out into pursed lips, but it pushes more to anxiety though his guise. “Dearest queen,…” Oh how to pull this child back, how to make her see. This is why he never bothers to begin with, where the hell to start. If she had simply left it after that first part of her answer he would find the task easier, but no, she had to let the other thoughts show. Rolling up his sleeves the gold teacher spoke gently. “Minds are amazing things. No two are alike.” That poor child would need more help than that. Tinker some more he fiddled with the mechanics. “You’re right, we do all have fears, likes, and so on, and they all have the same pieces” The gold made his trade on finding them and exploiting them, just as he was doing to her. “But they’re not the same, or even if they are they were reached in differently for the mortality and life changes how the pieces work and fit together.” She’d still need more help than that, paint her a smaller picture of a tree, then maybe she’ll step back and see. “One who is told racist beliefs may believe the same thing as the twisted racist, but they will act differently because they gained the knowledge in different ways.” See that little drawing that’s a tree, now step back. “Similarity brings comfort, so we allow ourselves to create it, but minds do not communicate directly. The similarities created are only assumptions of a desperate and lonely creature. Often times, there’s just not a situation to reveal it otherwise.” The gold prayed this wouldn’t blow up her damsel brain, and she would prove the thoughtfulness she showed earlier would aid. Again, catching himself, it was curious why he cared so much. So enthralled with working this into her, he pushed the feeling aside, just as he had earlier. “Those are just my thoughts.” Meaning they should be yours. “So I approach each creature as unique. It’s all revealed within them, which is rather hard when that is not an open and clear space. Not to mention all the changes and hypocrisies mortals often hold.” Take the golden for instance. ”Therefore, racism is baseless, for whether the cover of a book is old, rough, spikey, or smooth, that does not tell you what story lies on the inside.” There do you see the tree now?
OOC ::
"speech"
Steady as a Beating Drum
Normal lies, and Normal tricks,
What what's that feeling underneath?
Normal lies, and Normal tricks,
What what's that feeling underneath?
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