So the wild person had a name and something akin to manners. She was used to dealing with a greater brusqueness from so-called “civilized” people, so this was in truth a welcome reprieve…if a very strange one.
”My name is Zamara.” She replied with halting words. ”And no…there is no one that will follow me out here. I’m alone.”
There was a moment of hazy sadness that drew her eyes downward as she lost focus, but quickly it was gone as she recalled her surroundings. When she did, she came back to a seedy little thing being thrust into her face that made her scrunch up with distaste when the smell hit her and she discovered there were maggots folded into the ration. Not wishing to be rude, she delicately took the food between two fingers and laid it gently in her lap with an awkward: ”...my thanks.”
As far as courtesies went, stripping in front of a stranger was not exactly common- yet it was another practice that she was unfortunately familiar with. Even still, there was a distinct hesitancy in her careful disrobing before this still-mysterious figure. Zamara shivered as the bright blouse peeled off of her wet, algae-speckled torso and with a bit of hopping upon her good leg she managed to drape it carefully over the indicated branch.
”If you are from Torchline…why are you out here?” The question is asked with sufficient innocence by the shivering and half-naked young dancer.
”My name is Zamara.” She replied with halting words. ”And no…there is no one that will follow me out here. I’m alone.”
There was a moment of hazy sadness that drew her eyes downward as she lost focus, but quickly it was gone as she recalled her surroundings. When she did, she came back to a seedy little thing being thrust into her face that made her scrunch up with distaste when the smell hit her and she discovered there were maggots folded into the ration. Not wishing to be rude, she delicately took the food between two fingers and laid it gently in her lap with an awkward: ”...my thanks.”
As far as courtesies went, stripping in front of a stranger was not exactly common- yet it was another practice that she was unfortunately familiar with. Even still, there was a distinct hesitancy in her careful disrobing before this still-mysterious figure. Zamara shivered as the bright blouse peeled off of her wet, algae-speckled torso and with a bit of hopping upon her good leg she managed to drape it carefully over the indicated branch.
”If you are from Torchline…why are you out here?” The question is asked with sufficient innocence by the shivering and half-naked young dancer.
Zamara
