I sensed the young man's presence far before I actually saw him. One thing I had been taught and had taken quite naturally to was the ability to understand the gutteral emotions that accompany a foreign watching eye. It always snuck up on you at first, and then it settles. You feel a subtle churn in the lowest part of your gut. The harder you concentrate on the honest emotion of the physicalities of it, the quicker you'll notice the gurgling migrating along you ribcage and through your lungs. It finds a home there. Your breathing isn't regular anymore because you are aware of it. It's hard to breathe normally when you're conscious of each breath, you don't actually know how to breathe like normal, you just do it. The youth in my tribe had been taught proactively how to hide their awareness of a spying eye and I honed in on those childhood abilities.
Without watching the being drift downward toward me, I stared at the direct point at which I assumed he'd land. I was fairly accurate, though I had hoped he'd be clutzier than he was. Deep breath, pretend its regular again. The change wasn't obvious, I had been trained to make sure of that. But it still drove me crazy to show even the slightest reaction. All that aside, I was about to speak to another living thing for the first time in quite a while and I wasn't sure my tongue still worked properly. Eventually, as I gathered myself, I looked at the winged figure. He was quite intricate in his design. Spots freckled his hide like a predatorial cat. What had Mother called them...? Perhaps a tiger? Regardless, his markings generally were beautiful. The mind capturing detail didn't make my knotted tongue any easier to untangle. But as a whole, the markings set the male off. He looked uneven and awkward altogether. The untypical predator markings weren't appealing on a prey animal's body. He was ugly, so to speak.
Despite his impressive markings and less than impressive general appearance, Demian's first words were uninspiring. Well, one word. It seemed a bit mumbled but perhaps I just had a hard time deciphering his lack of accent. Regardless, I couldn't quite speak at first. I felt uncomfortable. He had the demeanor of a leader. I had never meshed with the type. It's the equivalent to telling an alpha wolf and lead lioness to coincide, both hunt differently and both rule their families differently. In regards to my attitude toward Demian though, I kept myself together carefully. If he is in a position of power, the doors he held the keys to could be unlimited. I was too smart to sacrifice that because of first judgments. Besides, I didn't see this male as one big ugly mass. Altogether, he was an eyesore to that with a dull eye. But this being was enough for my eyes to drink and study and feed upon. He was what I found to be the missing flaw in this setting. I warmed at that thought. A wrinkle in this seemingly perfect painting, in my book he was now what made it legitimately flawless.
Not to say, I didn't quite grace my lips with a smile when I spoke. I simply nodded and continued to size him up, this time I wasn't actually memorizing him. I didn't need to see him anymore than I already had. No, I figured I'd see how much he'd allow himself to squirm in silence. Soon, he threw a chuckled few words in, something about walking and morning. I hadn't noticed an overabundance in walking lately, not for myself. Even as a child I had had more energy than the rest, mentally and physically. Mother had no problem keeping up with me, she even encouraged my energetic habits and had happily stayed up on sleepless nights conversing over the most preposterous topics. I was a restless young being, and hadn't outgrown that trait. Taking a step or two forward, I closed the distance betweeen us to roughly two feet. I still didn't speak, instead I squinted my eyes and concetrated on a spot on his shoulder. They were larger blotches, each different than the one before. They flowed carelessly into eachother. The details were so very intense and wonderful that for a moment I forgot what he said his name was. Demien. Jaguar. Not tiger, jaguar.
I took a step back and exhaled, our eyes met. "I don't particularly mind." With another step back, my eyes found the grass again. I had forgotten about my accent. It was thick at the moment. It was hard to place a finger on exactly what area my accent dubbed my origins. It was a tribal adaptation that everyone from home had grasped, myself included. I shifted my weight slowly. It was hard to tell what type of personality Demien possessed. He was curt, yet friendly with a joking edge. My own sense of humor had always fallen short of anything but dry. "Roushe." My accent deceived me yet again. The 'ow' sound in my name always made it apparent. It came out as a short 'a' sound and drew itself out longer than the average pronunciation. Exhale again. Granted, I sure enjoyed my differences.
OOC - Same here. Her accent is meant to be a sort of cross between Cockney English and South African. Thanks!