The Hero King recalls her from a dream, remembers that she'd struck him as a particular kind of woman: a lioness sleeping in the sand, uninterested in flowers and song where there had been carrion to be devoured, the salt of flesh to taste, and a different sort of music to be made with the creatures which had howled, seeking to usurp her (usurp them) from her place.
Instead, he would call it learning her.
She moves with efficiency, making a study of a whip before feeling the weight of a mace, keen upon familiarizing herself with the array of tools at her disposal rather than the scarlet shawl which had been left to warm in the noonday light. So eager is she to consume all things new (she moves, now, to grasp a shield), that Sion cannot help but wonder if she has ever seen combat, or if he so happens to be privy to something beautiful: a fledgling unfurling its wings.
But then, of course, she catches sight of him, and he is left with no room for further ruminations.]
Ah? I was waiting, Caren Ortensia, for you to show me that which you promised.
[ Is he so inclined...? Truth be told, the answer is no, he merely wishes to see if she remembers him in turn. ]
But you will have my hand in practice, so let us begin. [ And begin it does, with an elegant outstretch of his arms, palms open and guileless, bared to the sky. He beckons her to him, to the place from which he's observed her from all this while, a formation of stone over which he presides, seated upon it at what seems to be his utmost leisure. ] First, though, I would see you renewed.
3c!
The Hero King recalls her from a dream, remembers that she'd struck him as a particular kind of woman: a lioness sleeping in the sand, uninterested in flowers and song where there had been carrion to be devoured, the salt of flesh to taste, and a different sort of music to be made with the creatures which had howled, seeking to usurp her (usurp them) from her place.
Instead, he would call it learning her.
She moves with efficiency, making a study of a whip before feeling the weight of a mace, keen upon familiarizing herself with the array of tools at her disposal rather than the scarlet shawl which had been left to warm in the noonday light. So eager is she to consume all things new (she moves, now, to grasp a shield), that Sion cannot help but wonder if she has ever seen combat, or if he so happens to be privy to something beautiful: a fledgling unfurling its wings.
But then, of course, she catches sight of him, and he is left with no room for further ruminations.]
Ah? I was waiting, Caren Ortensia, for you to show me that which you promised.
[ Is he so inclined...? Truth be told, the answer is no, he merely wishes to see if she remembers him in turn. ]
But you will have my hand in practice, so let us begin. [ And begin it does, with an elegant outstretch of his arms, palms open and guileless, bared to the sky. He beckons her to him, to the place from which he's observed her from all this while, a formation of stone over which he presides, seated upon it at what seems to be his utmost leisure. ] First, though, I would see you renewed.
[ If she would allow for it, of course. ]