Basking in the morning sun, Germat felt himself in better condition; his recumbent position now a matter of choice, not necessity. Nonetheless, he was too slow to react in a civilized way to the unexpected arrival of the little Ovis girl.
He had encountered Ovis before, was nonplussed thereby, and had flustered those he met in turn. When a quintessential mammalian and a creature of scales come into contact, such misunderstandings are inevitable. There was, too, a differential of size, of apparent ferocity, and so on, that was irreducible.
None of these facts excused him from the demands of noblesse oblige and the people.
He levered himself upward, settling less-legs firmly with a flare of effort and straightening great-legs with a minimum of pops and crackles. He looked down, surveying his length critically.
His scales had returned to gloss after their salt-bath of the previous evening, and his vents were a fetching crimson, refulgent. He had control; chances of an undesired conflagration were acceptably minimal. His mating grasp was without ornament, but did coil nicely in the summer warmth.
Germat reached into his pouch, rasping a brief prayer of thanks once again it had not been fouled with brine, and spent some time running bristles along his horns, ensuring his prime-vent was clear, and so on.
Attend to appearance in meeting new companions; the scale is the mirror of a respectful heart.
Now, why had the Ovis girl run?
It was possible it had been a matter of height; she was of the delicate stature necessitated by pumping warmed blood all about. A lower stance might help, bending great-legs and splaying less-legs outward to compensate; the resemblance to a crustacean was unfortunate, but ought to be comforting to a dweller at seaside.
There was also the persistent rumor that the people had fangs, of the rending, child-eating variety. Germat would simply keep his prime-vent open, displaying the lack thereof. He now resembled a bonefish crossed with a forge-fire, but at least one of those was a comfortably domestic image.
He approached the door of her domicile- exceeding humble and composed of equal parts wood and stone, far from sensible. Given she could warm herself, the chimney was puzzling, but eccentricities must be allowed.
Germat very gently scraped one horn against the door, as was polite, scoring the wood just slightly.
“I do humbly beg your forgiveness,” he rumbled, “if you were or are discomfited, put out, distressed, affrighted.”
He gave a gentle blat through his speaking-tubes, indicating profound contrition, then resumed fluting, whistling speech. He thought he could hear a faint whistling sound within, not unlike one of the people.
“My much gratitude for the giving of…your sand. Yes.”
He had encountered Ovis before, was nonplussed thereby, and had flustered those he met in turn. When a quintessential mammalian and a creature of scales come into contact, such misunderstandings are inevitable. There was, too, a differential of size, of apparent ferocity, and so on, that was irreducible.
None of these facts excused him from the demands of noblesse oblige and the people.
He levered himself upward, settling less-legs firmly with a flare of effort and straightening great-legs with a minimum of pops and crackles. He looked down, surveying his length critically.
His scales had returned to gloss after their salt-bath of the previous evening, and his vents were a fetching crimson, refulgent. He had control; chances of an undesired conflagration were acceptably minimal. His mating grasp was without ornament, but did coil nicely in the summer warmth.
Germat reached into his pouch, rasping a brief prayer of thanks once again it had not been fouled with brine, and spent some time running bristles along his horns, ensuring his prime-vent was clear, and so on.
Attend to appearance in meeting new companions; the scale is the mirror of a respectful heart.
Now, why had the Ovis girl run?
It was possible it had been a matter of height; she was of the delicate stature necessitated by pumping warmed blood all about. A lower stance might help, bending great-legs and splaying less-legs outward to compensate; the resemblance to a crustacean was unfortunate, but ought to be comforting to a dweller at seaside.
There was also the persistent rumor that the people had fangs, of the rending, child-eating variety. Germat would simply keep his prime-vent open, displaying the lack thereof. He now resembled a bonefish crossed with a forge-fire, but at least one of those was a comfortably domestic image.
He approached the door of her domicile- exceeding humble and composed of equal parts wood and stone, far from sensible. Given she could warm herself, the chimney was puzzling, but eccentricities must be allowed.
Germat very gently scraped one horn against the door, as was polite, scoring the wood just slightly.
“I do humbly beg your forgiveness,” he rumbled, “if you were or are discomfited, put out, distressed, affrighted.”
He gave a gentle blat through his speaking-tubes, indicating profound contrition, then resumed fluting, whistling speech. He thought he could hear a faint whistling sound within, not unlike one of the people.
“My much gratitude for the giving of…your sand. Yes.”
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Traveler [Closed] - by tindome - 05-14-2015, 11:05 PM
Traveler [Closed] - by tindome - 05-14-2015, 11:06 PM
Traveler [Closed] - by sir - 05-15-2015, 11:19 PM
Traveler [Closed] - by tindome - 05-18-2015, 12:13 AM
Traveler [Closed] - by sir - 05-21-2015, 07:10 PM
Traveler [Closed] - by tindome - 05-25-2015, 02:30 AM
Traveler [Closed] - by sir - 05-27-2015, 06:56 PM
Traveler [Closed] - by tindome - 06-01-2015, 06:10 AM
Traveler [Closed] - by sir - 06-30-2015, 12:27 PM
Traveler [Closed] - by tindome - 07-13-2015, 07:11 PM