With visual!
And *clunk* went the heels of the thick boots on the table as the long figure leaped upon it, and those who had not already looked their way at the tavern keep's introduction were surely drawn to them now.
Tanned leather and worn, they were, but not so tanned and toned as the skin of their wearer. The eye that might trace the long boots would follow up the tight trousers of black, creep up the voluminous white blouse, and perhaps linger at the ample bosom that acted as if they would peek out of it, but never quite escaping, not entirely. An amulet of finely treated and carved oak rested above the cleavage, daring the onlooker to take overlong to inspect the arrow-pierced musical note that it portrayed.
Then the face would catch attention, open mouthed as if voicing a silent cheer, lips given just a quick touch of gloss, cheeks as tan as hands and arms, with just the hint of weathering that heralds outdoor living. The face was framed by sleek hair, the shade of rich earth, straight but for a hint of wave along its length. Atop the whole was a black hat, wide of brim and pointed of top, set off by a pair of scarlet feathers. She was tall, even for a woman of highland blood, which her pointed features suggested, and leanly muscled, as might befit a messenger, or one who, most likely, walked through fields and paths unnumbered, a survivor.
But then she flung her arms wide, left hand clinging tightly to an ornate lute inscribed with filigree of green, drawing eyes all about, as would a starburst to a roomful of Astrologians.
"Gentles! Belles and Boys! I am indeed Talia Telluride, and it is my most wonderful privilege, and gift to one and all, to be the most un-humble center of your attention tonight!"
She showed teeth with a wide smile, and leaned down, with bent knees, just long enough to stroke the chin of the massive Hellsgard Roegadyn, a man of all bulges and smelling of booze, who crowded the table. His eyes lit up at the touch of the woman's calloused fingers, but went out as she stood up quickly again.
"Oh, I do love the big ones! But you didn't come here to see me drape myself over the local lords... not yet, anyway... so let us have a song!"
She stomped the table once, and brought the lute before her chest (causing a bit of a grumble among some of the nearby fans), and strummed out an opening note, deep and ribald, as the contralto voice filled the room like a mist.
"Over these small clothes, trimmed in lace, I'll slip on my black silk disgrace, cut so low they'll pack the place:
I wanna dress... dangerously.
I need to be reckless, need to be daring, need to take chances, and tempt my fate;
Need to be foolish, need to be to crazy, before it's too late, and I'm past my date.
We'll have aldgoat steak and Madjack Rum, with popotoes and harvest plums, so come on, boy, and get you some:
I wanna eat.... dangerously
I'm just a slave to any desire, and not afraid to play with fire, so come with me and take it higher:
I wanna live... dangerously...
I wanna eat... dangerously...
I wanna love...
Dangerously!"
And *clunk* went the heels of the thick boots on the table as the long figure leaped upon it, and those who had not already looked their way at the tavern keep's introduction were surely drawn to them now.
Tanned leather and worn, they were, but not so tanned and toned as the skin of their wearer. The eye that might trace the long boots would follow up the tight trousers of black, creep up the voluminous white blouse, and perhaps linger at the ample bosom that acted as if they would peek out of it, but never quite escaping, not entirely. An amulet of finely treated and carved oak rested above the cleavage, daring the onlooker to take overlong to inspect the arrow-pierced musical note that it portrayed.
Then the face would catch attention, open mouthed as if voicing a silent cheer, lips given just a quick touch of gloss, cheeks as tan as hands and arms, with just the hint of weathering that heralds outdoor living. The face was framed by sleek hair, the shade of rich earth, straight but for a hint of wave along its length. Atop the whole was a black hat, wide of brim and pointed of top, set off by a pair of scarlet feathers. She was tall, even for a woman of highland blood, which her pointed features suggested, and leanly muscled, as might befit a messenger, or one who, most likely, walked through fields and paths unnumbered, a survivor.
But then she flung her arms wide, left hand clinging tightly to an ornate lute inscribed with filigree of green, drawing eyes all about, as would a starburst to a roomful of Astrologians.
"Gentles! Belles and Boys! I am indeed Talia Telluride, and it is my most wonderful privilege, and gift to one and all, to be the most un-humble center of your attention tonight!"
She showed teeth with a wide smile, and leaned down, with bent knees, just long enough to stroke the chin of the massive Hellsgard Roegadyn, a man of all bulges and smelling of booze, who crowded the table. His eyes lit up at the touch of the woman's calloused fingers, but went out as she stood up quickly again.
"Oh, I do love the big ones! But you didn't come here to see me drape myself over the local lords... not yet, anyway... so let us have a song!"
She stomped the table once, and brought the lute before her chest (causing a bit of a grumble among some of the nearby fans), and strummed out an opening note, deep and ribald, as the contralto voice filled the room like a mist.
"Over these small clothes, trimmed in lace, I'll slip on my black silk disgrace, cut so low they'll pack the place:
I wanna dress... dangerously.
I need to be reckless, need to be daring, need to take chances, and tempt my fate;
Need to be foolish, need to be to crazy, before it's too late, and I'm past my date.
We'll have aldgoat steak and Madjack Rum, with popotoes and harvest plums, so come on, boy, and get you some:
I wanna eat.... dangerously
I'm just a slave to any desire, and not afraid to play with fire, so come with me and take it higher:
I wanna live... dangerously...
I wanna eat... dangerously...
I wanna love...
Dangerously!"
"But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep."