Moonsong Glacier You're living in the age of the refugee, my friend.
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Delightfully, Vallkyrie joined in on the masquerade. Belharra met her antics with equally exaggerated ministrations of shock: headshakes, gasps, eye-blinks, the whole kishkabosh. She nodded along as Vallkyrie rightfully corrected her faux pas. Belharra nodded quite vigorously to the corrections made - they were most amenable indeed.

"Mmmm, yes." She said with an air of coquettish charm, masterfully impersonating the posh accent of the High-Born and Do-Wells. "I accept your humble apology." The accent she feigned felt so weird on her tongue! Belharra continued anyway, adding devoted thespian to her ever growing list of talents. "Come, let us have dinner like the gentlefolk, and put this all behind us. Water under the cave walls."

She dropped the accent fast. The switch was remarkable. So remarkable, her voice sounded guttural and coarse next to the floaty tune she had hummed just a moment prior. "Sit ye ass down, m'fair lady. I wot ye deserve this song no mores then I deserve the heaven'ly gates, but I'll sing t'ye, so I will. About a nice little muddy bog-rat. The most beautiful muddy bog rat in the werld - and the crusty fish dat insulted her.

That strike ye fancy? Good. Lesstart." Belharra sat up and took in a gulp before she launched into a song, her paws tapping along with the beat.

"Ooh, once upon a time y'ken,
dere wuz dis maiden rat
who lived out on the grange
a daughter of sir misterblatt

she twas beautiful, it's sed
and full of smarts to boot
but one fine day, in that summer way
a storm come howlin' afoot

dat dark cloud came, in the form o'a fish
she was rude and brassy,
the furthest thing from classy
as ever a maiden did wish

dat fish met the fair rat-lass
and sized her up with one dish eye
crowed "ye's as ugly as a nekkid hen's ass
so hideous ye oughta die."

such words the grange had never heard
so rude! so cruel! so unkind!
de rat gasped in shock, it twas so absurd
to be insulted by a vapid swine

she curtsied in the grangely way
and gave that fish a look
she swore she'd make dat rude bitch pay
and gave dat waterlover a wicked hook

SPLITTER SPLAT! HITHERSWASH!
her claws raked to an' fro
when she was done, de fish was a mash
all ripped up and too poor for show

dat fish learned one lesson to late!
never insult a grange-bred gal
if ye do, say g'byes to yer pals
for the grange-girl's not a gal t' aggravate."

Belharra licked her lips as she finished with a flourish, her showman's eyes resting on Vallkyrie in full expectation of hearty mcfooken applause.
Messages In This Thread
RE: You're living in the age of the refugee, my friend. - by Belharra - February 02, 2020, 08:39 PM