Post by devilinthedetails on Aug 1, 2018 10:21:37 GMT 10
Title: A Very Progressive Man
Rating: PG-13 for discussion of racism.
Prompt: Rumor has It
Summary: Sarai has heard that Zaimid is a very progressive man.
A Very Progressive Gentleman
“They say”—Sarai opened her flirtation with the handsome healer from Carthak rumored to be high in Emperor Kaddar’s favor with a challenge as unsubtle as her spurring her mount to match his pace for pace as only she could when he chose to flaunt his magnificent riding skills—“you’re a very progressive gentleman.”
“Why do they say that?” Zaimid cast an admiring glance in her direction, and she didn’t know whether it was for her curvy figure, her new riding gown, or her finely bred steed. The mystery titillated her, making the blood in her veins pound against her eardrums while her mouth went dry despite her bantering.
“You flirt with raka, luarin, and everyone in between.” As she responded, she prayed to the Trickster that he wouldn’t hear her tongue was parched as the Carthaki desert was described to be. “In the Copper Isles, that marks you as a dangerous man.”
“If I’m so dangerous, you should flee before I bite, my lady.” He chuckled, and she counted that a failure as she hadn’t been aiming to amuse him.
“I didn’t mean dangerous in a bestial way, of course.” She pouted at him until he was forced to take her seriously as the illnesses he treated among the commoners. “I obviously meant dangerous in a radical way.”
“I take your meaning.” He winked at her now, and she couldn’t figure out whether that indicated an increased degree of seriousness from him. “In Carthak, you must understand that people flirt with others of all shades. It would seem backward not to do so.”
“Carthak must be a radical place then.” Sarai twirled a black curl around her finger, contemplating this revelation of an empire where skin color didn’t matter.
“Not radical.” Zaimid paused to consider her words, and Sarai realized that she had him hooked as a fish on a line waiting to be reeled in by a fisherman. “It’s just that in Carthak skin color isn’t linked to slavery or social class as it is in the Copper Isles. The emperor himself has skin dark as many raka though his honored mother is light-skinned.”
It had never occurred to Sarai that the ruler of the most powerful empire in the world might be of mixed ancestry like her. She would have gawked at Zaimid if she didn’t fear bugs flying into her gaping mouth. At last she replied smoothly as she could, “I’d like to see this marvelous land where skin color doesn’t dictate a person’s place in society and where an emperor might be of mixed race.”
“Perhaps you will one day.” Zaimid’s offer knocked the air from Sarai’s lungs. “Maybe I’ll have the pleasure of being the one to take you there.”
Reminding herself to breathe, Sarai titled her head teasingly at him. “I’d enjoy that, good sir. It sounds a dazzlingly progressive place, one that might produce a very progressive man.”
“I’m not a very progressive man.” Zaimid, Sarai thought, protested too much. “I merely try to improve the world in what small ways I can in the hope that it will be a better one when I leave it than it was when I entered it.”
“That’s what it means to be a very progressive man.” Sarai twinkled at him. “One day I should like to marry a very progressive man.”
Before he could unravel her remark enough to discourage or encourage her, she nudged her horse into a run, fleeing from him before he could catch her.
Rating: PG-13 for discussion of racism.
Prompt: Rumor has It
Summary: Sarai has heard that Zaimid is a very progressive man.
A Very Progressive Gentleman
“They say”—Sarai opened her flirtation with the handsome healer from Carthak rumored to be high in Emperor Kaddar’s favor with a challenge as unsubtle as her spurring her mount to match his pace for pace as only she could when he chose to flaunt his magnificent riding skills—“you’re a very progressive gentleman.”
“Why do they say that?” Zaimid cast an admiring glance in her direction, and she didn’t know whether it was for her curvy figure, her new riding gown, or her finely bred steed. The mystery titillated her, making the blood in her veins pound against her eardrums while her mouth went dry despite her bantering.
“You flirt with raka, luarin, and everyone in between.” As she responded, she prayed to the Trickster that he wouldn’t hear her tongue was parched as the Carthaki desert was described to be. “In the Copper Isles, that marks you as a dangerous man.”
“If I’m so dangerous, you should flee before I bite, my lady.” He chuckled, and she counted that a failure as she hadn’t been aiming to amuse him.
“I didn’t mean dangerous in a bestial way, of course.” She pouted at him until he was forced to take her seriously as the illnesses he treated among the commoners. “I obviously meant dangerous in a radical way.”
“I take your meaning.” He winked at her now, and she couldn’t figure out whether that indicated an increased degree of seriousness from him. “In Carthak, you must understand that people flirt with others of all shades. It would seem backward not to do so.”
“Carthak must be a radical place then.” Sarai twirled a black curl around her finger, contemplating this revelation of an empire where skin color didn’t matter.
“Not radical.” Zaimid paused to consider her words, and Sarai realized that she had him hooked as a fish on a line waiting to be reeled in by a fisherman. “It’s just that in Carthak skin color isn’t linked to slavery or social class as it is in the Copper Isles. The emperor himself has skin dark as many raka though his honored mother is light-skinned.”
It had never occurred to Sarai that the ruler of the most powerful empire in the world might be of mixed ancestry like her. She would have gawked at Zaimid if she didn’t fear bugs flying into her gaping mouth. At last she replied smoothly as she could, “I’d like to see this marvelous land where skin color doesn’t dictate a person’s place in society and where an emperor might be of mixed race.”
“Perhaps you will one day.” Zaimid’s offer knocked the air from Sarai’s lungs. “Maybe I’ll have the pleasure of being the one to take you there.”
Reminding herself to breathe, Sarai titled her head teasingly at him. “I’d enjoy that, good sir. It sounds a dazzlingly progressive place, one that might produce a very progressive man.”
“I’m not a very progressive man.” Zaimid, Sarai thought, protested too much. “I merely try to improve the world in what small ways I can in the hope that it will be a better one when I leave it than it was when I entered it.”
“That’s what it means to be a very progressive man.” Sarai twinkled at him. “One day I should like to marry a very progressive man.”
Before he could unravel her remark enough to discourage or encourage her, she nudged her horse into a run, fleeing from him before he could catch her.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!