by Tolleson » Thu Jul 28, 2011 4:45 am
"That is very considerate, the other horses might not think him so pretty if you took his hair," after all, she had used her own hair. Would it be thieving to take someone's or even something's hair? She wasn't entirely sure if Catch made a distinction between people an animals, he'd been so worried about poor Lady Cluck after all. Though he seemed to have been forgotten since, or at least, Genny hadn't brought her up. Though her ladyship had placed in the chicken coop in the small garden behind the Dagger with specific instructions not to be slaughtered. And as far as a pie-maker could tell, she was as happy as a clam. Though definitely a chicken.
How strange is was that sometimes Catch could frighten her with how curious and odd he was, but most of the time she felt as she did now, comfortable. So utterly trusting was this dirty, sweat and tear covered girl that her glassy eyes for all the worry were still placated and serene in his presence. He had done that, perhaps with intention but probably without knowing. The towel holding hand slid off her head as her arm dropped to her side and she laid back on the bed, her feet firmly on the floor, legs bent, so that from her knees up she reclined. Wisps of coppery red fluttered about her ears until landing gently and releasing an invisible puff of cinnamon, vanilla, and sweat; the scents of the pie-making trapped in what remained of her hair. Meanwhile the damp, deep auburn and ruddy black clumps flopped down, reaching for the opposing edge of the bed. Her height was such that once flattened out on the blankets, her hair did nearly fall off the other edge. Had this been any other man she would not have been so trusting, guarded even around James.
Air strung her eyes as she stared at the old beams that held the ceiling up, "Catch, do you think... I mean... if I knew who that thief was. Do you think I should tell Mr. Burnie?" She had forgotten to say Ser Glenn but surely he knew who she meant. Then again, if he had been anyone else all the details may have added up by now.
Conflict and contemplation rested heavily upon her, almost physically as her chest struggled in the rise and fall of deep breaths meant to keep her calm. On the one hand there was the consideration she had for her brother, to report him and have him caught would mean prison, exile, perhaps even death - she didn't fully know the extent of his crimes so for as much as she could read in a book, it would be impossible to tell what his punishment might be. Considerations also had to be made for herself, if he was caught without her help they would come to know who he was and surely accuse her of harboring a criminal. What were the other options? She did trust Burnie, but less and less so in the last few weeks as she came to question his sensibilities and the moral turpitude of which at least a handful had insinuated.