Coca dropped her comb at the sound of the voice, frozen cold at the sound of a voice. It was...It was a man's voice, right? Their voices were lower, it had to be a man's voice. So, so long...The woman opened her mouth to speak, but found herself too overwhelmed to speak. Her eyes were blurring and her head was whirling. In her fantasies she knew exactly what to do but suddenly she felt lost.
"W-who is he that dares enter the thresh hold of the Guardian's Tomb?" she replied, as majestically as she possibly could.
Yes, that's how it should be done.
She stood up slowly. Her long hair, which had been over her shoulder, was now rippling down her back as she slowly sashayed towards the door. Coca had been practicing for a long while, and was quite pleased with the result- mysterious, yet luring. (Actually, it probably was over done but she didn't know that.)
Her eyes were used to seeing in the dim tomb, but Coca could not make out all the details of the man that stood by the door.
Be brave, be brave, be brave, she thought, over and over.
Why was she so bashful at a time like this?
Was it just her imagination, or were his ears pointed?
Coca took in a deep breath and reached out for the figure.
"Come!" she demanded sharply, and pulled him towards where the sun's light could reach him better.
Unless Hyssaeda knew the language of the ancient desert people, her language would have been hard to understand, just random babbling, though it was one of the origins of the modern Essyrn tongue.
As the light bathed over their figures, giving them both a rustic golden glow, the queer woman gave a gasp of awe. Casting away her 'mystery', manners, and shyness, she began to touch things, starting with his ears.
"Master has pointed ears!" she exclaimed as she gently touched the edges of them, her brown eyes widening. Next, they traveled to his hair, his snow-white hair. Only old people had white hair.
"But you're not old," she continued, "You look so young."
His eyes...were red?
"Are you cursed?" Coca said, her voice stern as she stared at the elf deep into the eyes, trying to look for signs of any devils.
"You're not possessed, are you? You shan't touch the prince!"
To emphasize her point, the woman outstretched her arms, as if to protect the corpse behind her, when she got distracted by his chest.
Coca had never met an elf before in her kingdom- perhaps humans had changed so much since the time of her enslavement. Her awed expression turned one to one mixed of disgust and amusement. His chest was so hairy! Like a monkeys! She preferred the chest of her prince, the tomb guardian thought as she reached out for it. It took the woman a while to figure out that it was a shirt.
"But that's silly," she thought out loud as her eyes and fingers were gently tracing some of the tattoos on his body.
"What are these pictures," she muttered, captivated.
As if in a trance, this calmed her a little, some how.