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07-25-2016, 08:39 AM
There is a tiny voice in the back of his mind, a voice that rumbles with the faint growl of a lion, telling him that this is unreasonable. It tells him that just as not all Dorobians are kind, it is doubtful that all Korofi are murderous. It does not still his racing heart though. His chest aches with the pounding of it. It is hard to hear his own thoughts over the roar of blood in his ears and yet he hears the winged one's words crystal clear now that he is paying attention. His odd eyes rove over the brightly colored form and even though he claims he is not a killer Imani can only see the height and the strength and the lines of a hunter.
The eyes of a hunter.
It's actually the eyes that truly seize his attention. He has never been close enough to a still Korofi to study them and the eyes take him somewhat by surprise. Still the small, striped Dorobian does not join in his laughter. He understands what the stallion is trying to say, he thinks. But truthfully Imani does not understand that drive. He has never known another in such a way. Social construct barred him from intimacy and even now he does not understand why such desires drive others above all else.
Almost against his will, his labored breathing begins to ease. His body cannot stay keyed to a pitch forever and the slight distraction gives his rational voice a chance to speak more loudly. The trembling begins to ease, though his stance is still tense and wary- the fear is not gone, only momentarily abated.
The question hits him almost like a physical blow and for the first time he tears his eyes from the large winged one, head turning aside in shame. His scruffy, black tipped tail tries to lash behind him, leaving strands of coarse hair stuck in the bark of the tree. The bones in his mane rattle as his neck curves.
"Because I am a coward." He cannot bear to speak the word in his mother tongue and so he switches to Helovian. As though the foreign language would make the words less true. He watches the Korofi from the corner of his blue eye, not really willing to make eye contact. He does not lie. It doesn't occur to him. It is not as though the admission will make people think any less of him- he is used to others having a low opinion of him. What did it matter if they think him a coward as well as unlucky?
"Why did you follow me, if not to hunt?" The words are quiet, tired. Whatever anger lingered has turned inward, and is absent from his voice. It seems that at least for now he has been granted life. Why, or for what purpose, he knows not.
The eyes of a hunter.
It's actually the eyes that truly seize his attention. He has never been close enough to a still Korofi to study them and the eyes take him somewhat by surprise. Still the small, striped Dorobian does not join in his laughter. He understands what the stallion is trying to say, he thinks. But truthfully Imani does not understand that drive. He has never known another in such a way. Social construct barred him from intimacy and even now he does not understand why such desires drive others above all else.
Almost against his will, his labored breathing begins to ease. His body cannot stay keyed to a pitch forever and the slight distraction gives his rational voice a chance to speak more loudly. The trembling begins to ease, though his stance is still tense and wary- the fear is not gone, only momentarily abated.
The question hits him almost like a physical blow and for the first time he tears his eyes from the large winged one, head turning aside in shame. His scruffy, black tipped tail tries to lash behind him, leaving strands of coarse hair stuck in the bark of the tree. The bones in his mane rattle as his neck curves.
"Because I am a coward." He cannot bear to speak the word in his mother tongue and so he switches to Helovian. As though the foreign language would make the words less true. He watches the Korofi from the corner of his blue eye, not really willing to make eye contact. He does not lie. It doesn't occur to him. It is not as though the admission will make people think any less of him- he is used to others having a low opinion of him. What did it matter if they think him a coward as well as unlucky?
"Why did you follow me, if not to hunt?" The words are quiet, tired. Whatever anger lingered has turned inward, and is absent from his voice. It seems that at least for now he has been granted life. Why, or for what purpose, he knows not.
Imani
@Grassvoel
