by Guppy » Fri Jun 21, 2013 5:49 am
Whelp had indeed asked the girl for her name. Both because she did not feel herself above anyone and because she wanted to know what name to shout things at when the tangles were being pulled from her hair. The woman guided her out to the carriage and the wildling eyed it with mistrust, though in the end, she climbed within. Not long after, they would arrive at the Lady's home and she was whisked away to that brightly lit room before she could gawk at the opulence of the abode.
The young woman stood within the doorway and pale eyes ghosted over the colorful embellishments. Her gaze was drawn to the two birds within their cage and she felt a sudden pang within her breast. They were happily eating crumbs from the Lady's hand, but she wished them freedom. Their lives were far more comfortable here, but at what cost? As she glanced around the room again, she thought perhaps that she had more in common with the songbirds in their gilded cage than previously suspected. At the moment, under the watchful eyes of the Lady Olwak she, too, felt quite trapped. The approval on her features was noted and Whelp hesitated there, uncertain of her emotions. Not many within authority looked upon her in such fashion and it was nice for once, to be accepted. The smile that she gifted the Lady with after her warm greeting was almost shy. Inwardly, she chided herself.
Rhaena may note that as soon as Elliot spoke, he had every crumb of the wildling's attention. Her features livened considerably as soon as his gaze fastened upon her. It was as if she were awakening for the first time. Her affection and obvious attraction for the boy were not easy to miss. Whelp did not note how nicely he matched his Lady, but It did.
Oh, but what a pretty little lapdog she has there. See how he stands at attention? Sweet thing. Such attention to detail. Such quaint little tricks.
The words from the creature oozed with contempt so acerbic that Whelp was glad that the creature did not choose to utter them aloud. To the casual observer, her features went slack for a moment, as she listened, but then her gaze was on the boy again and her cheeks colored at his attention. Apparently slightly uncomfortable and not at all used to the compliments he lay before her, she gave a perfunctory scowl. "It itches," she complained, reaching a hand with curled fingers to scratch against freshly-cleaned scalp near where her tresses were tied back. The managed to pull a few strands, but Greta had secured it nicely. Still, her cheeks could not lie, and she was quite pleased with his praise.
"Well. Thank you for having me. And are those for anybody?," asked in a rush of words. She tried her best to give a little curtsey at the greeting and almost fell over with the lack of practice. Her hand rose at the same time and a finger pointed at the cookies and small sandwiches on display upon the table. Wasn't Catch supposed to be coming at some point? The girl never thought that she would find herself longing for the mad man's company, but she felt woefully out of place.