Post by Mala Lelik on Nov 15, 2015 6:10:25 GMT
(Open to Zona K. Noakes)
Sayvahn ushered Mala to purse her lips. The animal girl complied, and he dotted the lipstick evenly upon the bumps, brightening them, making them fuller —appealing, even. Her cerulean eyes, shimmered in contrast, and he stared at his work with a triumphant grin.
“Marvelous.” Grabbing a mirror, he leaned himself against the side of her head so that they both could look at his work together. “Don’t you look amazing?” He inquired, the crimson wig, pressing against his cheek as Mala’s eyes flicked back and forth in the mirror. Perhaps she was surprised, as she tilted her head— surprised at how the powder fitted on her face, or perhaps how the fake eyebrows lined the area above her eyes, or most of all, how that bed of red sat on her scalp. Sayvahn waited eagerly for her response, almost prodding for her to speak, to state which thought interested her. And when she did speak, she only said one word.
“Itchy.”
Sayvahn frowned and slipped back into his chair. What had he expected? A word of thanks? A surprised squeal of admiration? Regardless, Sayvahn waved the idea off, getting up and ushering the fine maiden, or what was slowly becoming a fine maiden, to head to the door. This time, without heels and corset. He realized that he would have to work up to those, after the last incident that involved the two had rendered him quite furious. Anyway, with Mala by his side, the two walked arm in arm, or well, limp arm as Mala didn’t care for the idea, to the merchant district.
“Now remember, what do you do when someone speaks to you?”
“Speak little.”
Sayvanh nodded a “Good.” Until the girl worked on her language skills, she would have to remain mute, or near mute. That, or risk giving herself away, which, it seemed, was not a huge problem depending on the person. Regardless, it was better to be safe than sorry. Stopping at a store, Sayvanh motioned for the other to stay put, or get risked being left behind. Mala had a tendency to run away, it seemed, a feat that he had no energy to pursue, and so he would leave her to find her own way back if she did leave. So far, it had proved to be quite effective. If she wandered off, in a day or two, she would return. Often with a dead animal as thanks. That part wasn’t as effective.
Leaving her be, Sayvahn entered the shop, paying the girl no mind as he looked at the wares.
~
Hair itched. Didn’t like it. Smelled of fruit and metal. Lips tasted bad. Feet didn’t hurt, but confined. Stood outside shop. More face paint lined window. Sava looked at wares. Mala, distracted. Reflection, different. Had hair. Wore dress. Looked strange. Felt strange. Wanted to remove clothes. But soldiers, nearby. So looked at people in reflection. How they moved. How they lived. How they interacted.
Sayvahn ushered Mala to purse her lips. The animal girl complied, and he dotted the lipstick evenly upon the bumps, brightening them, making them fuller —appealing, even. Her cerulean eyes, shimmered in contrast, and he stared at his work with a triumphant grin.
“Marvelous.” Grabbing a mirror, he leaned himself against the side of her head so that they both could look at his work together. “Don’t you look amazing?” He inquired, the crimson wig, pressing against his cheek as Mala’s eyes flicked back and forth in the mirror. Perhaps she was surprised, as she tilted her head— surprised at how the powder fitted on her face, or perhaps how the fake eyebrows lined the area above her eyes, or most of all, how that bed of red sat on her scalp. Sayvahn waited eagerly for her response, almost prodding for her to speak, to state which thought interested her. And when she did speak, she only said one word.
“Itchy.”
Sayvahn frowned and slipped back into his chair. What had he expected? A word of thanks? A surprised squeal of admiration? Regardless, Sayvahn waved the idea off, getting up and ushering the fine maiden, or what was slowly becoming a fine maiden, to head to the door. This time, without heels and corset. He realized that he would have to work up to those, after the last incident that involved the two had rendered him quite furious. Anyway, with Mala by his side, the two walked arm in arm, or well, limp arm as Mala didn’t care for the idea, to the merchant district.
“Now remember, what do you do when someone speaks to you?”
“Speak little.”
Sayvanh nodded a “Good.” Until the girl worked on her language skills, she would have to remain mute, or near mute. That, or risk giving herself away, which, it seemed, was not a huge problem depending on the person. Regardless, it was better to be safe than sorry. Stopping at a store, Sayvanh motioned for the other to stay put, or get risked being left behind. Mala had a tendency to run away, it seemed, a feat that he had no energy to pursue, and so he would leave her to find her own way back if she did leave. So far, it had proved to be quite effective. If she wandered off, in a day or two, she would return. Often with a dead animal as thanks. That part wasn’t as effective.
Leaving her be, Sayvahn entered the shop, paying the girl no mind as he looked at the wares.
~
Hair itched. Didn’t like it. Smelled of fruit and metal. Lips tasted bad. Feet didn’t hurt, but confined. Stood outside shop. More face paint lined window. Sava looked at wares. Mala, distracted. Reflection, different. Had hair. Wore dress. Looked strange. Felt strange. Wanted to remove clothes. But soldiers, nearby. So looked at people in reflection. How they moved. How they lived. How they interacted.