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- Posted: Sun, 27 Jan 2013 21:41:57 +0000
- "Gods be damned..." Nissa rubbed her fingers over the so-called "finery" she'd been instructed to wear. Human fibers, however formal they were intended, were indeed a foul thing. Upon her silky, elven flesh, each article scratched and rubbed in such a way her very spirit was a writhing mess. The garish blue color--a color of "mana"--did even less to soothe her already irritated person. For a woman so attuned to the forest, the ocean color gave her an almost sickened glow. Her heart so yearned for sweet, elven silks, for forest-scented leathers, and even the strange, sensual cool of mithril upon her skin. Regardless, she was stuck with the hooded atrocity granted to a woman of her (albeit wrongfully modest) ranking. With whatever mottled dignity she could manage (and a hell of a lot of swallowed pride) the elf stood pin-straight among her inferiors, wearing nothing more than an expression of sheer distaste on her pinched, pointed features for her current colleagues.
The rousing speech spoke volumes of the orator's lack of genuineness. In fact, the words themselves oozed with crowd-pleasing intent that truly didn't fit the overall look of the speaker--rather, the General. Nissa couldn't help but note his costumed armor: one more waste of precious funds that served no purpose other than showing off its own uselessness. She wondered whether or not he was even remotely keen to be wearing such attire, and his concluding attempt at a grin confirmed her questions. This man felt like a fool wearing a maiden's glittery armor and that there was a sheer lack of faith in the untrained masses of men and women serving in this army. A hundred words came to mind in the high elf's revision of his speech. 'You are no soldiers. You're nothing more than children playing at war against a host more dangerous than you can imagine. You're fools, the lot of you. My soldiers. My fools. My corpses.' Each mental hiss came dripping with acidic truth that sent her eyes to roll. When the sea of applause rose, Nissa respectfully declined the gesture and instead folded her arms over her chest.
The most trivial moment of the night had yet to pass. A luxurious banquet, oh joy. The invitational parchment felt so crisp in her fingers, another spot of extravagance spared on a "lowly member" of the mage corps. "Hîn.." she spat beneath her breath in her native tongue to the nearest group upon dismissal. Gods knew she wanted nothing more than to hide away and rip the nasty garment she wore to shreds and exchange it for something more natural, though, this new "duty" of hers called for uncomfortable clothing and kissing the asses of human swine.
Her form loped through the masses in practiced, swaying steps nearer the palace. Despite her love of critiquing all manmade devices (including man itself), she wouldn't deny the building its impressiveness. Perhaps not as intricate as she'd prefer, but substantial enough to be, well, fit for a king. A furtive gaze was spared for her personal commander as well as the general himself. Rancour lurked deep beneath her stare, though, an outward serenity through emerald eyes ought to have been enough to fool the men. In silence, she returned on her castlebound trek muttering curses of spite in her head...
[[ TT^TT I'm ashamed to say I've already got writer's block! ]]