Fox's Glade silvertongue

indra was bemused by the creature -- his mannerisms, the affectation of his voice -- even the stilted lift of his tongue and the careful phrasing of his words. his answer was received evenly, but she labored to understand the meaning behind it. weren't all creatures flawed, in some measure?

"why imperfections?" she asked quietly, noting the disparity in their voices as she spoke. to her, an imperfection was a possible weakness -- surely, if one surrounded oneself in them, it would be an exercise in folly that ended in exhaustion.