Dialogue--Tane and Ayivva
Somehow I seem to write better--or at least get the ideas flowing more smoothly--in the update field than anywhere else, even a blank Word document. I wonder why this is?
"Erril lied," Tane said, testing the words on his tongue. They sounded no different from any other words; certainly they did not hang heavily in the air and chill the room with the reek of Death. "He said there was nothing there."
"He was looking out for himself." Ayivva shrugged. The torn shoulder of her white dress slipped down a little further; she did not pull it back up. Tane looked away.
"He was a Guardian. The oaths he swore--to protect the weak as well as the strong, to serve the Living, to lay the Dead to rest--"
"Does anyone keep those oaths?" She didn't even seem to be paying attention anymore; he heard a creak from the bed, caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye as she crossed to the door and tested the lock. "Does anyone even believe in them, anymore?"
"I do!" he flashed. "Orien does. Rhulair does. Perhaps Erril's been bribed to guard the rich of the city instead of the poor of his district, but--"
"You don't know much about people, do you?"
Tane stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I said." A rustle of cloth, the scuff of bare feet across the wooden floor. He kept his eyes fixed on the window, but even so he tensed when her arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek touched his shoulder. Her long hair tickled the back of his neck. "Don't tell me you don't think even a Guardian could be corrupted."
"Please remove yourself." He kept his voice icy low, ignoring the quickening beat of his heart and the rising heat in his face. The body had natural reactions; even the Dead could remember lust. The shame lay in succumbing. "Now."
She obeyed, but her fingers traced lightly over his ribs as she pulled back, little lines of fire burning through his surcoat and shirt to the skin beneath. "You see," she breathed. "And I wasn't even trying."
...Comments? Criticism? Death-threats?
-Ki
"Erril lied," Tane said, testing the words on his tongue. They sounded no different from any other words; certainly they did not hang heavily in the air and chill the room with the reek of Death. "He said there was nothing there."
"He was looking out for himself." Ayivva shrugged. The torn shoulder of her white dress slipped down a little further; she did not pull it back up. Tane looked away.
"He was a Guardian. The oaths he swore--to protect the weak as well as the strong, to serve the Living, to lay the Dead to rest--"
"Does anyone keep those oaths?" She didn't even seem to be paying attention anymore; he heard a creak from the bed, caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye as she crossed to the door and tested the lock. "Does anyone even believe in them, anymore?"
"I do!" he flashed. "Orien does. Rhulair does. Perhaps Erril's been bribed to guard the rich of the city instead of the poor of his district, but--"
"You don't know much about people, do you?"
Tane stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I said." A rustle of cloth, the scuff of bare feet across the wooden floor. He kept his eyes fixed on the window, but even so he tensed when her arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek touched his shoulder. Her long hair tickled the back of his neck. "Don't tell me you don't think even a Guardian could be corrupted."
"Please remove yourself." He kept his voice icy low, ignoring the quickening beat of his heart and the rising heat in his face. The body had natural reactions; even the Dead could remember lust. The shame lay in succumbing. "Now."
She obeyed, but her fingers traced lightly over his ribs as she pulled back, little lines of fire burning through his surcoat and shirt to the skin beneath. "You see," she breathed. "And I wasn't even trying."
...Comments? Criticism? Death-threats?
-Ki