Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2015 9:38:31 GMT -5
Demetrio felt his chest contract, squeezed invisibly but no less palpably by some combination of emotions so Gordian that he as at a loss to define much less understand them. The simultaneous twisting of his gut was painful and sudden, yet on the surface the guard captain looked unperturbed as he continued both to waltz with his cousin and to observe the occupants of the inn. It was a compulsion that he could not overcome.
Demetrio was not simply being difficult when he commented that there was a reputation with him. He was accounted as fierce and intractable by his Cousin's court, and held apart by them as a result. He seemed like a fantastic creature or a dangerous wild animal. Something to be observed, marveled at and appreciated, but never approached. Joanna was not wrong in her thinking that her elder cousin was lonely. His humming had petered out when Joanna began to speak, and when she stopped, silence descended around the pair, the only sound the shifting of clothing and the scuffing of shoes.
“Once again my Dove,” A slow, sad smile slide across Demetrio's face like the image of a magic lantern, “you underestimate yourself.” Planting his feat, he released Joanna's right hand and spun her way with his left hand, out to full extension where he paused, holding her and sharing another small smile before pulling her back toward him. Improvisation was the soul of dance, and swordplay and, whether or not Demetrio realized it, it was a touchstone for relationships too.
Joanna Montefiore
Demetrio was not simply being difficult when he commented that there was a reputation with him. He was accounted as fierce and intractable by his Cousin's court, and held apart by them as a result. He seemed like a fantastic creature or a dangerous wild animal. Something to be observed, marveled at and appreciated, but never approached. Joanna was not wrong in her thinking that her elder cousin was lonely. His humming had petered out when Joanna began to speak, and when she stopped, silence descended around the pair, the only sound the shifting of clothing and the scuffing of shoes.
“Once again my Dove,” A slow, sad smile slide across Demetrio's face like the image of a magic lantern, “you underestimate yourself.” Planting his feat, he released Joanna's right hand and spun her way with his left hand, out to full extension where he paused, holding her and sharing another small smile before pulling her back toward him. Improvisation was the soul of dance, and swordplay and, whether or not Demetrio realized it, it was a touchstone for relationships too.
Joanna Montefiore