Cerulean Cape Covered my soul with grit and coal

Spotted. The poverbial !! of alert sparks through fluttering, torn ears, and the seneschal gives a low, guttural noise of irritation. A grungy fly buzzes in his periphery, and while that one golden eye remains on the mangy face, it's dead of all recognition. A few scrapes still blistered, maybe, but nothing hurt more than an uppity woman's presence. Already he could feel his jaw tightening. The first and utmost irritation of any new culture was the idea - the very wrong one, if you asked him - that women had any sense in being heard, or being seen.

How tiring.

Her angle made all too clear - did she mean to herd him like cattle? - with the cut of that wiry body, he turns himself, trying to angle a wide swoop around the straight cut of her high-step path, a low, half-grunt summoning up from his throat. Couldn't the infernal woman just leave him in peace? He had no time to teach her discipline as he so politely had on their first meeting.