04-04-2017, 06:28 PM
He was cocksure and that drew her in, unbeknownst to her it was a characteristic of him that she found charming. Others could mistake it for arrogance and to an extent, it was but it he leveled it with humor and a sarcasm that she found masterful and endearing. Perhaps that was odd of her, but then, Paralee was never the most complex character in creation - just a free-spirited one that took a chance on a rhino-horned colt almost no older than she, and in him, she find a spirit not quite kindred but somehow alluring. (Oh Paralee!)
(I know, but I like him - horns and mouth and all.)
(Those horns or that mouth will be the end of you, Paralee.)
(No, I think he likes me too…)
She laughs; his smile is teasing and makes her heart flutter in her golden breast. “I believe sir, that you are correct in that estimation!” Then she leans in as if to murmur conspiratorially in his big black ear, “Only the rottenest are best.” and she gives his ear a gentle teasing tug before pulling her head back and tucking her chin to her chest in a coy manner, merriment glinting in the deeps of her brown eyes. One of her eyes ends up obscured by a wayward lock of orange blossoms and pale hair, just the smallest strand of such that curves inviting down the length of her eye and cheek. It makes her look shy and comely, and she is anything but as they both know!
Her grin grows less shy and more devilish as he admits that she is not as rotten as a carcass; she feels a minute flutter of triumph at getting him to almost take that insult back. Paralee cannot help but chortle her glee as he concedes that it is only because of the flowers, and she half-agrees - “Well, they do make me sweet because they are so sweet themselves.” and then she pulls at her lip with her teeth, feigning an uncertainness that she really does not feel. It was ploy and farce, as most things between them had been in this dance of mischief managed. “Still, they’re nothing like those ripper-horns.” she tells him, as he angles them up and away from her face.
(See? See how he took care not to hurt me?)
(Oh Paralee…)
Paralee did not miss the way he was careful to avoid hitting her as she stepped back from him; perhaps that too, was her own carelessness in doing things that she did not think to mind his horns much as she spun and danced around him. She was often a whirling dervish of golden motion and orange blossoms, but then weren’t all nymphs fleet of foot and free? Yes, she sometimes fancied herself a nymph of some great citrus wood that smelled like the blossoms in her hair. Then she remembers that he is all black hugeness and flashing teeth and ripping horns, but not to her - oh no! He is big and black and handsome, and Paralee can find no fault in him! She cannot keep the laughter from tumbling wildly out of her mouth or the quick easy smiles that she gives him, as he smirks and laughs too, and even questions her silly bold statement of liking him.
“Why yes, I do!” she assures him, but the expression on her face is one of fake incredulity and she looks more cross than anything else. She pouts, also fake, and he teases back and she is struck once more by the devilishness of him. “Dangerous, hm…” she queries, tongue to lip for but a moment as she considers him with a hard brown look that softens as her face gives way to more laughter. “But sir, who am I in danger of if you’re around?” and once more, she spun around him, making the orange blossoms shake and spin in her hair.
|