<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/D01nHYr.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]The stick stood tall next to the woman, who didn't move in closer than was needed to examine the individual. He closed the gap between them, taking long strides to find himself in her presence, which let her observant stare trace his person in a quick ascending vertical. By the time the stranger was in her company, Bajazet was already thumping a barefoot against the sand with heeled kicks. Messages for the other scouts, though this action likely appeared as an idle mannerism to those not familiar with their tribal communication device. The woman certainly didn't seem flighty or spooked by him wanting to be closer. His answer seemed to be lacking in validity, making her unsure of his motives, but that could simply be self preservation. If he claimed he was fit and able, he was less likely to be preyed on by larger, more aggressive types.
Something in her slender, draped body seemed to speak volumes on what sort of character she was. Not a fighter, that seemed a sure bet.
"<font color="e6cd19]You smell sick.[/font]" Bajazet didn't bother hiding the discomfort his closeness brought when he stopped, but it wasn't fear behind her almond eyes. No, it was something closer to pity. Dregs were not uncommon sights, and the ones she saw were never those in fitter form; instead they looked like Cauldo. Wrapped, dirty, unhealthy. Not war giants or behemoths or skittering maws. Just men in masks, men with visible bandaging, and men who did not know when to keep their distance.
"<font color="e6cd19]Do you expect you will die here[/font]?" Absently, the bottom of the stick scratched at the earth. "<font color="e6cd19]Would you like to be left alone to die?[/font]"
Bajazet couldn't make out what sort of health Cauldo was in, but it wasn't a state she would deem healthy. His body was ripe with that sort of marinading illness which may have been worse is her sense of smell wasn't already damaged to begin with. It prodded her present being to take heed and leave him where he was, but she didn't feel entirely comfortable with just abandoning someone. He had yet to strike at her, and that was a point in his favor. Even her ebony features showed signs she had been struck before, maybe often, the scars a mix of older and newer injuries. One could get use to being a target of adoration as well as envy, though neither were feelings a woman hoped for from strangers. No good could come from it.
"<font color="e6cd19]I did not seek to harm you.[/font]" Bajazet offered quietly, doing her best to seem stoic to the circumstances. "<font color="e6cd19]Do you have goods to trade?[/font]"
Something in her slender, draped body seemed to speak volumes on what sort of character she was. Not a fighter, that seemed a sure bet.
"<font color="e6cd19]You smell sick.[/font]" Bajazet didn't bother hiding the discomfort his closeness brought when he stopped, but it wasn't fear behind her almond eyes. No, it was something closer to pity. Dregs were not uncommon sights, and the ones she saw were never those in fitter form; instead they looked like Cauldo. Wrapped, dirty, unhealthy. Not war giants or behemoths or skittering maws. Just men in masks, men with visible bandaging, and men who did not know when to keep their distance.
"<font color="e6cd19]Do you expect you will die here[/font]?" Absently, the bottom of the stick scratched at the earth. "<font color="e6cd19]Would you like to be left alone to die?[/font]"
Bajazet couldn't make out what sort of health Cauldo was in, but it wasn't a state she would deem healthy. His body was ripe with that sort of marinading illness which may have been worse is her sense of smell wasn't already damaged to begin with. It prodded her present being to take heed and leave him where he was, but she didn't feel entirely comfortable with just abandoning someone. He had yet to strike at her, and that was a point in his favor. Even her ebony features showed signs she had been struck before, maybe often, the scars a mix of older and newer injuries. One could get use to being a target of adoration as well as envy, though neither were feelings a woman hoped for from strangers. No good could come from it.
"<font color="e6cd19]I did not seek to harm you.[/font]" Bajazet offered quietly, doing her best to seem stoic to the circumstances. "<font color="e6cd19]Do you have goods to trade?[/font]"
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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