Sunjata takes his sweet time answering me, his eyes moving over my tattoos while he seems to think. Or something. Though if he’s distracted by my art I am more that okay with that. I like the attention. ”Not everyone?” I repeat, when he finally answers me. ”Have you been slacking?” I tease gently, waggling my fingers towards him to double down on the delivery.
He confirms my hunch that he isn’t from here, that he’s an outlander, and I tilt my head, the smile not moving. ”Do they have the Folk on Korofi?” I twist the name a little bit as I say it, koo-roof-ee, not entirely intentionally. Not entirely unintentionally either. And I smile at the slight lilt to my own name as it comes off his tongue, the way the vowels seemed to stick to his lips. ”Is this hand thing a common greeting?” I ask, feeling the pressure on my hands and unable to help the question. If I plan on meeting more of the grounders, which I do, I should know a little bit about how to greet them. Or at least what to expect.
I am slightly worried he is going to hurt himself with the back and forth of feathers and flesh, but the worry is overpowered by excitement as he plucks a feather and offers it to me. It must not hurt too badly, or at least, he must know the ones safe to take, so I don’t feel too badly about it. Instead, I reach out gingerly to take it, holding the feather between two fingers and shifting it slightly, letting the light reflect off it and admiring the colours up close. ”I don’t need payment for my company, or my gifts. But thank you.” I fix him with another brilliant smile, this one decidedly less feral than the last.
”I am glad to hear that I’m not cavorting with a majority of menaces.” I laugh when he snorts, and lean back again, plucking one of the flowers off the surface of my tea and pressing it delicately into my mouth. Though it twists immediately when I hear the word Ascended, my nose wrinkling and my fists clenching. ”I suppose I could have assumed that, hmm?” I force myself to smile again as he continues, the look becoming more genuine as he continues. ”Only a follower of the old gods? What about the deep gods, or the bright gods?” My voice is overly earnest, sincere to the extreme, though theres a sharp slyness in my eyes now, a wicked quirk to my lips that show I am teasing again, just a little bit.
His reaction to my prodding is a little underwhelming, and I am admittedly a little disappointed. But I continue nonetheless. ”I suppose you don’t have many firsts left, do you?” I am pushing, maybe a little too much, but I am interested in his answer, eyes wide and focused on his face.
Tarasha
the adnascentia of my soul will crack the earth
