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Posted on January 3, 2012 at 10:03:37 PM by arthur & pendragon
Who are you? would have been the more usual question, the one which Arthur was more ready to answer, so, at the girl’s question the muscles around his eyes contracted for a fraction of a moment in a slight frown. In the subsequent moment he made a quick appraisal of the fairy before him, the movement of his eyes so subtle that it was unlikely that she would notice him doing it. He had learned, in his old life, how a courtier must be able to read anyone in the fraction of a second, and, preferably, without the other person becoming aware of the calculation. She wore home-made attire, comprising of items found in the forests, and she wore no shoes. The King had encountered such things before in a girl who had been half-feral and such a realisation allowed him to better understand what she was asking of him. “I’m a fairy, like you,” he smiled, his voice deep and warm feeling her fingers brush against his hair as they caressed the metal of his crown. “I am King Arthur,” the brown-haired man continued as she took a step back again, her eyes resting upon his sword. He did not usually introduce himself by his title, his life in Shaman having familiarised him with a degree of informality which its residents seemed to find preferable, but in this case, he believed it would serve to answer the girl’s questions better. “This,” Arthur continued, resting the flat of his hand against the grey stonework of the wall, “is one of many walls belonging to Shaman’s castle, you probably saw it from a distance.” The King smiled as he answered the girl’s unasked question, taking care to keep his hands away from his sword, suspecting that any such movement could set her on the offensive. It had been long since Arthur had considered how he appeared to those who did not know him, had forgotten that he could be a rather intimidating figure to those who were not used to him. His face was undeniable royal, with a strong jaw-line and straight noble nose, and he was both broad in the chest and wide in the shoulder, compensating for the fact that he stood at just 5’10, relatively short compared to most of Shaman’s population. The King was though, unusually muscular, having trained himself from a young age to handle heavy weaponry, and this seemed to make his lack of height less noticeable. “Have you got a name?” Arthur enquired, raising a questioning eyebrow as he did so, his voice strong yet calm, and unusually warm. Once she had had time to answer Arthur spoke again, “are you hungry?” he asked, “thirsty? If you follow me inside we can supply you with a meal, and perhaps a guided tour?” Once again the King waited patiently for a reply, emitting a steady aura of solid, reliable calm, as he often did. His grey eyes scanned over the stranger’s face, but he did not make eye-contact for too long in case she, like others he had met, saw it as a sign of provocation. They were old eyes, far older than his twenty-six year old body would have usually merited, filled with wisdom, and sadness, anger and joy, dancing with memories. They were eyes which had seen and experienced much, but equally, they were trustworthy and most importantly, brimming with compassion. just take a look, through my eyes image by One lucky guy at flickr.com |
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- and every wave drags me to sea; - By e t a i n January 19, 2012 at 02:33:41 AM
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