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Date Posted: 10:35:32 10/02/05 Sun
Author: Mikhal
Subject: >~<
In reply to: Zeara /Zearask/ 's message, "And what would YOU be wanting?" on 19:19:33 10/01/05 Sat

Despite his careful attention to the noises of the cave's inhabitant, Mikhal hasn't quite learned yet to judge distance by sound, and though he hears her footsteps approach, he's startled by how close Zeara's voice is when she finally speaks to him. He squeaks in alarm, then freezes as he hears the undeniable sounds of her watchwher - slightly heavier breathing than a human, the click of claws on stone. Thankfully, the wher doesn't menace him, and Mikhal relaxes slowly as the woman grumbles at her bronze. "I'm sorry to bother you," he says carefully, after she asks his name again. "I'm Mikhal. I blood-bonded to the little bronze in the clutch that Master Yima found," he adds, not sure if the Journeywoman knows that or not. "And since you have a bronze also, I wanted to talk to you." Mikhal takes another deep breath and straightens up as much as he can, though it isn't much. She's probably thinking I'm just a kid, he thinks, more resigned than anything else. Malnutrition early in his life makes him look closer to fourteen or fifteen Turns old than his full eighteen, and if the woman is only seeing him through his watchwher's eyes and Master Yima is right about how watchwhers see (not that he doubts her), she's probably just seeing the short and skinny aspect, not the adult way his face has finally filled out. So I've got to make sure I act more mature, he reminds himself. "I know that Master Yima is telling us everything she knows, but... well... she has a gold." Mikhal swallows, a bit uncomfortable with saying this, because he's not sure how Yima will react if she hears about it somehow. But taking care of his watchwher properly is more important than the possibility of her anger. Mikhal is very, very careful of what little he owns, and this is the first time he's owned anything so precious as a watchwher. "I wanted to know if there was anything about bronzes that she might not be able to tell me. Things he'd do that she wouldn't have experience with, or things I'd have to do to take care of him of that she wouldn't know about. I want to be a good handler for him," the young man finishes hopefully. He can't see anything in this darkness, so he just strains his ears to catch the sound of Zearask's breathing and waits for a reply.

((Heh. I doubt Zeara can be any more paranoid than Yima is, so I don't exactly have room to complain. ^_^ And I'll only complain about your writing style if I can't understand it. You're not using "terra" or "'pon" or calling eyes "oculars" or legs "pistons" (*shudders violently*), so you're good in my eyes.))

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