"Go away!"
Sarya was darting hither and thither around the glade, swearing eloquently as she dodged--of all things--gourds. They were running after her, snapping at her heels and snarling in a way that reminded her vaguely of the fluffy, yappy dogs preferred by noble ladies in her homeland. She had already kicked a few out of the way, but they kept coming back. And she was growing tired of running. "What the fuck did I ever do to you?!" she seethed, punting another vegetable away.
She had almost decided to turn and face the little monsters when she heard a voice. Her first thought was that surely, surely she wasn't about to run into talking pumpkins or some such nonsense. Her second was that maybe, if she did run into talking pumpkins, they could talk some sense into the snarling gourds. But, of course, when she sought out the source of the voice (against her better judgment), it was only a man. He was doing something with a gourd in midair--talking to it? But then, suddenly, without warning, the vegetable exploded.
Startled, Sarya jolted to a stop, but the intensifying snarls quickly reminded her to keep moving. Hissing with frustration, she lifted her right foot as a gourd dove for her feet and, with a quick, sharp step, she smashed it. Seeing gourd innards all over her boot was oddly satisfying. But there were more, so she couldn't savor the feeling for long. Hopping to the other foot, she smashed another.
"Hello," she panted over her shoulder as she hopped from one foot to the other, her dark hair tumbling around her face. "I'm Sarya. Pleased to meet you. Why are these gourds alive?" It came out all in a rush--quite unlike her, but she was flustered. Another gourd fell to her right foot. Bastards.
text. "talk"
Sarya Daemenor
so the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing
|
