I was a queen once.

I know this for manners are everything. I have etiquette, though i do not know where it is that i gained such a thing. Perhaps in my past life certain talents just seemed to stay with me. An apology is granted to me and i offer a soft smile. Too much of a smile is frowned upon and too less of a smile if considered rude. No, the smile must be fair and simple, an acknowledgment of my pleasure in his pleasing company. He didn’t have to bestow that apology upon me but he did, and i cannot help but allow a small sense of warmth to fall over me like a blanket.

The shift is instant though, a thick accented voice falling from the same lips that just offered an apology and my ears flick back onto my head instinctively, attempting to block out the voice as my paw lifts once again and i lean back from him. It is not the voice that disturbs me and causes my delicate features to shift into a disapproving expression before my gaze softens. ‘i’ll pay better attention to my surroundings the day you learn to better your manners.”

I speak sternly, as if i am a mother speaking to a little boy. I am not sure as to why this shift happen with this male that i had presumed to be… different. This confuses me and yet the ancient personality traits i carry feel as if this is something i have experienced before, something i should not worry too much about. I prefer not to dwell on the strangeness of others, i know how it feels to be judged

His voice becomes soft again and i tilt my head, gentle gaze probing for answers but not inquiring for that too is rude. “orb,” i repeat gently, once again granting him acknowledgement that i accept his title and will take it into account should we meet again.

As i relax and my aged thoughts flow, i cannot help but ask him a question and in return i gain the experience of listening to a female voice utter one simple word. I shift my gaze from those glittering souls in the sky to him again, my curiosity growing. He couldn’t possibly have faked such a voice. How can one carry a vocal range that wide? From baritones to sopranos? It seems impossible to me. But i remain quiet. The thick voice slams into my face again and I lift a lip in a slight snarl. I am no fighter, but I have a temper of my own. I will not tolerate such behavior as this. But he continues, that gentle voice enough to satiate the small feeling of anger within me.

His answer intrigues me, his mind obviously more vast than he lets on. I rise from my seated position, moving towards him gingerly. I am wary of these voices, confused and curious but it is his mind that i find to have my full attention now. The stars almost seem irrelevant to him now and i pause in my journey to stand before him. “you speak as if you have witnessed such a beauty,” my light voice sounds foreign to my ears, it is too gentle, too timid. “can you enlighten me on where i can find such a thing?” i dont really like the shadows all too much.

“speech”

elowen