"Ahh … oww …?"
The Chicken (a.k.a Eagle) blearily raises his hand to rub his startling pink slap-mark. Oops. Maybe I overdid it. Blinking heavily, his pupils dilate momentarily, and then focus on me.
"Hm?! H … wha!? How did you get ou-!"
For some reason, the last word of his astonished sentence becomes stifled. Possibly it has something to do with my hand that has somehow become shoved against his mouth, but something tells me that it's entirely coincidental. Well, maybe it's just a gut feeling …
I don't give him time to breath.
"Don't say a thing, don't breath a word to anyone, I am still tied up, I am definitely a prisoner, etcetera," I hiss threateningly into his ear, "And I am very, very hungry."
At first he just stares at me. Well, who wouldn't? I glare right back … but my concentration starts to waver. How can somebody have eyes that green? Is it physically possible? I'd trade my boring old brown ones for his vibrant green ones quicker than you can say 'Valond Priestess'! I mean, with no offense to people with brown eyes – I'm sure you're perfectly cute even without brilliant green eyes.
"What'll happen if I don't?"
I'm shockwaved out of my gazing. Horrified, I feel a pink tinge settle over my cheeks. I want to turn away, in sheer embarrassment, for just looking at him in such a perverted away. Then again, I shouldn't be blushing – he's only a boring old turkey, right?
"Then …" I mutter, struggling to come up with a good excuse to not grass on my escape method, "Then … then I shall be very disappointed in you."
Oh, drunken dwarves! What a brutal punishment to hand out. My disappointment! I suppose I'll kill him with my death glare, right? Knock him out with my hands-on-hips attack?
"Oh, god, that's severe. Oh, I won't tell anybody anything, don't worry – wouldn't want your disappointment," the Eagle grins at me, jade eyes flashing mischeviously. Again, what is the deal with those eyes? I'm worried I'll go into a trance if I watch them for too long …
"You bet," I nod in mock grimness, sneaking back into my ropes, "Now, tie me up again, won't you? Or do you dare to face my disappointment?"
"Most certainly not, most noble … ?"
"Ann, Ann Riven. And you are my slave …?"
"Well, I'm just a humble servant, my lady," says the Eagle, bowing his head in a parody of modesty, "But my full name is Loren Stone."
Funny, heh? I never thought I'd be exchanging names with a shitty Turtledove or whatever it was. He tightened the ropes (again) on my ankles and (again) on my wrists.
"Food?" I said hopefully, perking up to what my stomach had been demanding for a fair few rumblers by now.
"I'll leave it on the plate here. And also, I'll be going now, Lady Riven."
Surprisingly, I'm a little saddened. I guess I haven't had talking company for weeks on end now, and even a Pigeon's company is better than none.
"Right, then. See you, Loren the slave."
I do my best to wave with my hands tied around the back of my head, but promptly fall over. He laughs, waves, and then, just before he goes out, says:
"Yeah, and that dinner of yours looks total cockroach intestines, so I snuck some, like, fruit from the kitchen."
He's gone before I can thank him. I look into the plate. There's a cute little apple sitting there between the other roadkill.
And actually, I think I'd prefer his company rather than eat that apple.