05-03-2013, 10:14 AM
Kids are such strange creatures. Ellie's cohorts are two Carey relatives, one tow-headed, the other ginger as a Weasley. Though they had no particular qualms about talking to strangers when they initiated such a conversation by invading Calden's cousins' attempts at impressing girls, they turn as one with a startled and guilty look when Calden walks up behind them and answers Ellie's persistent question.
(We're not supposed to talk to strangers. Whispers the blond girl into the ginger boy's ear. That's not a stranger, returns the boy, with a nevertheless doubtful look up at Calden, I think it's a relative. I heard Auntie Sarah say - )
The dark-haired girl has no such qualms. Her features are so severe and so solemn, her mouth set, her round cheeks uncreased by anything like a smile. Listen, Calden announces that he is a Real Cowboy™ and Ellie does not take him at his word. Oh, no. The girl examines the evidence: dark gaze dropping to his feet and ticking up a his frame, eventually meeting and gauging and looking him right in the eyes, holding the look as he sinks down to her level. Then the look flicks back down to his feet, weighing the worn-in (worked-in) boots against the utter ordinariness of his attire.
She cuts a glance back up at the cousins as Calden assures her that they are also real cowboys, just the dressed-up sort, and twists her mouth consideringly, still thoughtful, still processing the evidence, taking nothing on his say-so. Briefly, she glances back at her friends (who are still whispering about whether or not a strange relative constitutes a genuine stranger, and then speculating philosophically about whether there could be any real strangers at the Carey house on Beltane).
"Okay. Well, that girl's not a cowgirl," Ellie corrects, conscientiously, in case his cousins were somehow mistakenly waylaid in their quest for pretty cowgirls by something flashier and less authentic, like - " - she's a park ranger at Roxborough." Then she looks back at Calden, flashing him the first smile he's earned tonight, which all at once illuminates her knowing little face. It shears a bit back into the rather doubtful twist as Calden affects his Texas drawl. All that accent earns him is a scrunched nose and another nanosecond of close scrutiny before she unbends again.
"I want cowboy boots but my mom says I don't need them. So you can tell her why I need them. Come on."
With that, she holds out a small hand. If Calden takes it, she begins to tug him along. "Oh, I don't want pink ones like Colleen. I want real ones."
(We're not supposed to talk to strangers. Whispers the blond girl into the ginger boy's ear. That's not a stranger, returns the boy, with a nevertheless doubtful look up at Calden, I think it's a relative. I heard Auntie Sarah say - )
The dark-haired girl has no such qualms. Her features are so severe and so solemn, her mouth set, her round cheeks uncreased by anything like a smile. Listen, Calden announces that he is a Real Cowboy™ and Ellie does not take him at his word. Oh, no. The girl examines the evidence: dark gaze dropping to his feet and ticking up a his frame, eventually meeting and gauging and looking him right in the eyes, holding the look as he sinks down to her level. Then the look flicks back down to his feet, weighing the worn-in (worked-in) boots against the utter ordinariness of his attire.
She cuts a glance back up at the cousins as Calden assures her that they are also real cowboys, just the dressed-up sort, and twists her mouth consideringly, still thoughtful, still processing the evidence, taking nothing on his say-so. Briefly, she glances back at her friends (who are still whispering about whether or not a strange relative constitutes a genuine stranger, and then speculating philosophically about whether there could be any real strangers at the Carey house on Beltane).
"Okay. Well, that girl's not a cowgirl," Ellie corrects, conscientiously, in case his cousins were somehow mistakenly waylaid in their quest for pretty cowgirls by something flashier and less authentic, like - " - she's a park ranger at Roxborough." Then she looks back at Calden, flashing him the first smile he's earned tonight, which all at once illuminates her knowing little face. It shears a bit back into the rather doubtful twist as Calden affects his Texas drawl. All that accent earns him is a scrunched nose and another nanosecond of close scrutiny before she unbends again.
"I want cowboy boots but my mom says I don't need them. So you can tell her why I need them. Come on."
With that, she holds out a small hand. If Calden takes it, she begins to tug him along. "Oh, I don't want pink ones like Colleen. I want real ones."
But my heart is wild and my bones are steel
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula