Re: The Cat: Rae and Kratos
He showed no sign of timbre, register or key in those noises. They were impossible to divine or distinguish between but Rae had the threads of prediction twined around her little finger and she knew comfortably enough that they were not the grumblings of the earth before eruption. He wasn't imminently violent, this man-mountain who thought baldly-issued invitations were inviting.
She watched him watching her. Rae had been told by many people she was beautiful. She had something of smallness and darkness rather than the tall, Nordic, icy beauty that Nel paraded around in, and doubtless her brother did as well. If she resembled nothing like the strapping sort of matron one expected to have babies in hordes, that achieved its own end. She was imperfect: there was a curl to her smile that was uneven, a mole on her neck, the little imperfections that made someone memorable.
Not that Kratos was especially forgettable. He didn't appear to like her answer and she slid from Greek into English.
"Because I like to be asked, darling," she said deliberately. "And I like to be wanted. Doesn't everyone?"