06-28-2014, 08:45 AM
He followed the line of her gesture toward the looming structure in the background. "A temple, huh? So long as I'm not the sacrifice."
Though only of moderate height, Jaxen towered over the snake woman with a look that verged upon threatening. There was a game to be played here, and he would be damned if he was the one to lose it. Morbid humor was only a side-element.
She approached, and Jaxen held himself at the ready. Although a thousand insects crawled under his skin, and although his every instinct said to flee or die trying, he remained quite still. Too still. Like perhaps motionlessness would dissuade her interest and she would seek other prey.
She kicked the knife away and the speed and grace by which one of the cloaked companions gathered it up shivered icicles down his spine. His expression remained hard, though the cords of his throat pulsed with the strength by which he swallowed his nerves.
His voice was tight, but vibrated by quiet drums of a very distant farce. His sense of humor was not lost on the situation. His gaze shifted from the gray prison to the crevices of her eyes.
"Looks like I have no choice. Lead on."
He gestured at the path he would follow at her side. He did not like the idea of escorting himself onto his own sacrificed altar, but if he was going to the headsman, the walk to the gallows would be unperturbed by the backs of other people's heads. That he had a clear path by which to bolt was another advantage.
His pace was steady. The cobalt cashmere of his jacket seemed bright against the drab surroundings, and it hung still in the windless air but for the rustling of his legs as he strode forward. As his hands went behind his back the jacket stretched across his chest, and the lines of a skeletal tattoo could be seen through the opacity of the thin white cashmere beneath. The colors and shapes of his attire set his dark features upon a playful edge: one that his mind calculated with every single step.
"So."
He quickly glanced at his companion. Although really he kept her always in his sights. "I'm not sure how old I am in snake-years, but Ancient seems a bit of a stretch."
His musings had a purpose beyond the jab of the words themselves: know everything about everyone. It was for his own amusement that humor gathered much more interesting tidbits than the brute hand of force.
Though only of moderate height, Jaxen towered over the snake woman with a look that verged upon threatening. There was a game to be played here, and he would be damned if he was the one to lose it. Morbid humor was only a side-element.
She approached, and Jaxen held himself at the ready. Although a thousand insects crawled under his skin, and although his every instinct said to flee or die trying, he remained quite still. Too still. Like perhaps motionlessness would dissuade her interest and she would seek other prey.
She kicked the knife away and the speed and grace by which one of the cloaked companions gathered it up shivered icicles down his spine. His expression remained hard, though the cords of his throat pulsed with the strength by which he swallowed his nerves.
His voice was tight, but vibrated by quiet drums of a very distant farce. His sense of humor was not lost on the situation. His gaze shifted from the gray prison to the crevices of her eyes.
"Looks like I have no choice. Lead on."
He gestured at the path he would follow at her side. He did not like the idea of escorting himself onto his own sacrificed altar, but if he was going to the headsman, the walk to the gallows would be unperturbed by the backs of other people's heads. That he had a clear path by which to bolt was another advantage.
His pace was steady. The cobalt cashmere of his jacket seemed bright against the drab surroundings, and it hung still in the windless air but for the rustling of his legs as he strode forward. As his hands went behind his back the jacket stretched across his chest, and the lines of a skeletal tattoo could be seen through the opacity of the thin white cashmere beneath. The colors and shapes of his attire set his dark features upon a playful edge: one that his mind calculated with every single step.
"So."
He quickly glanced at his companion. Although really he kept her always in his sights. "I'm not sure how old I am in snake-years, but Ancient seems a bit of a stretch."
His musings had a purpose beyond the jab of the words themselves: know everything about everyone. It was for his own amusement that humor gathered much more interesting tidbits than the brute hand of force.