IP: 94.171.8.14
Posted on January 2, 2012 at 01:14:21 AM by e t a i n
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Etain will be honest with you. She has never seen anything like this wall and this building in her entire life. You could give her a marked out prey, and she could stalk it until the animal lay dead. She could skin it in three different styles, preserve anything you wanted to preserve, and knew just how long a lengthy rib would need to sit in a substance that she had found in order to make it supple enough to be a shortbow. Etain could make you a cloak with the antlers left on, kill a wolf with one knife stroke while the beast latched onto her arm and many other people would panic. She could reliably hit targets with a wind – not too strong – from up to fifty metres, but she couldn’t comprehend this mammoth in front of her. The people that Etain would later in life know to be ‘guards’, dispersed back to their posts. She didn’t know that they had sent for the king. In fact, Etain didn’t know what a king was. She had heard the word, but she didn’t have the slightest clue what it actually was. It could be a three eyed fanged and scaled deer for all she knew, but alas it wasn’t. Etain, was also going to meet one of this mythical kings soon enough, if she could hold her sanity long enough for him to finish the walk out to meet her. She was suspicious of every movement she heard within this giant beast in front of her. She had heard Arthur’s steps, and made no sense of them, for she has never heard of ‘boots’. Her knife has slipped effortlessly free of its sheathe and was now hidden on the other side of her, while Etain worked her face into a calm, cool mask of indifference, other than the wonderment she could not shake about the wall. Her white hair trembled along with her body, thrumming with a nervous attitude. The slate knife felt familiar in her fingers, and she felt safer with the blade in her grasp. It was okay, she thought, now she had the knife. Ideally, she would have gone for the bow, knocked and arrow and have it aiming at his head as he found her, but this warped self control let her make do with the short knife. Etain turned her head almost imperceptibly to watch his approach but no smile tugged at her lips as was her general proceedings for finding things in this world. She listened to him speak but paid no real attention to his words. The registered in her mind, because Etain remembered thinking – what’s a front door? - but she was more stunned by his attire. She was wearing clothes spun from feathers and plant fibres, to her, the garments this man was wearing – his sex also astonished her – seemed to be spun from the very insides of a cloud. The colours were completely new to her for clothing. Etain showed him her knife, then slipped it into her sheathe, hoping that he wouldn’t take her advance, for that is what she did next as a bad sign. Etain attempted a smile, but her face simply lit up into unabashed confusion about everything one could do in this world. Her pale, deft fingers snaked up and touched his crown. She had no idea how he would react to this. Etain stared at the sword at his side, and she made a questioning face. “What are you?”  |