RP:Annabelle meets Guyon

Guyon turns hard as the human bumbles into him; his tail flicking in irritation at the sudden collision which caused him to drop his pick axe. Turning to face the human, Guyon blatantly towers over her, looking down his nose and the comparatively diminutive human. "Wha' was tha' for?" he asks, incredulity creeping into his voice.

Annabelle’s eyes grow wide and she stammers for words. “Forgive me…” she does her best to offer the friendliest of smiles, closing the book quite suddenly and holding it close to her chest. “No one is usually this far back… and… I have a bad habit of reading and walking.” She had hoped her explanation had sufficed for the intrusion to his hind quarters. She steps back, and with a proper curtsey she bows her head in formal reply. “My name is Annabelle, of the House of Ära.”

Guyon snorts as he gazes down, eyes scanning the book as well as the human's features. "Aye, I don' come 'ere frequ'ntly mehself, so I guess I can und'rstand it." Nodding quickly towards the book, Guyon asks "Wha's tha?" Not waiting for a reply he adds, "I 'm Guyon- from the desert tribe Mammon."

Annabelle had cringed while she waited for his response. Her voice a mere squeak as the towering quadruped towered over her form. She was small, even for a human. The book, held now by a death grip with white knuckles is squeezed harder against her chest. “I really didn’t mean to offend, I swear.” When he eyes the book she holds it more protectively, turning slightly to the side as if he would for some ungodly reason try to take it from her. “It is just a book!” There was panic in her voice. She wasn’t supposed to remove it from the House; for some reason she never could understand the reasoning behind it. It wasn’t like many could read it anyways. When he loses interest in her literature she finds his name against the heavy accent and the friendly smile returns. “I remember reading about the Mammon’s… almost extinct, aren’t you?” She bites her lip quite suddenly, fearing her mouth had found a sore spot on yet another poor soul that was so inclined to tempt fate in crossing her path of offenses.

Guyon relaxes slightly, clearly this tiny human was no threat to his person- at the very most, she could prove to be a small annoyance. Raising an eyebrow, the gesture is marked by a slight smile as well- the girl was endearing, if only a little paranoid. "Yeh didn't offend meh, yeh bumped inteh meh." The centaur shrugs, his equine body shifting slightly as his hooves lift and drop slowly. Brushing the bumpy encounter aside, Guyon collapses his legs beneath him, his front leg sticking out slightly to add comfort for his horse body; he hated lying on the ground, but it was the only way to actually see the human before him. He nods slowly "Aye- I 'm one o' the last o' the tribe." He is intrigued, very few humans knew anything about centaurs, let alone a particular tribe. "Wha' do yeh know o' my tribe?"

Annabelle began reciting what she had read those years ago in school. She disregards his words for the time being as the thoughts came to outwardly spoken words. “Mammon’s were Centurion beings that ruled the deserts over two thousand years ago… pirates.” She blinks her memory trance lifting. She looks him up and down and back up again. “They say that Sven called on you to choose your God and when the tribe chose the riches of the lands over the bounty of his good will he washed the world of your presence… It would appear even the almighty Sven can make mistakes, and such pleasant ones at that.” She had begun talking and it was as if she would never stop “ The prophecies say that one prodigal young-ling would grow up, and one day bring the Almighty Sven to his knees, begging forgiveness for the wrongs he had done and the Mammon will rise again.” She smiles at him again “I suppose that would mean I should be nice to you then, aye?” She giggles. “It is only a legend.” She breaks mid thought and arches a thin red brow at the half-beast. “Might I have a vial of your blood, curiosity begs that I ask, at very least… for educational purposes, of course. Oh how I would love to be the one to rewrite this bout of history.”

Guyon - A large smile creeps over the centaur's face, amusement obvious in the lofted brow- the girl had it all wrong. A small chuckle escapes Guyon's mouth as the girl finishes, though he stifles it in an attempt not to insult her. "Pir'tes eh?" he mumbles, bemused by the idea of his former tribe raiding desert caravans; the idea had merit, however untrue it was. Guyon crosses his arms over his chest; his right hand cupping his left elbow, while the left hand is raised to deftly stroke his chin; after some moments of silence, the centaur speaks "Tha's some legend," he says smiling, "Though tis far fr'm the truth." Tilting his head back and to the left, the centaur eyes the human slowly, more for plain interest than any genuine curiosity. "Would yeh like teh know the truth?" He asks quietly, though he knows the real story is far less grand than the legend he was just privy to.

Annabelle frowns and takes a seat a few feet away from him. It disturbed her to know her books, books she so lived by, were so very wrong. “I believe I would like to know, but I am still going to need the blood if you intend on getting the story right on paper.” She pulls a vial from a small pocket at her hip and hands it to him. “Just hold it against that vein on your neck. The vial will fill itself. It is completely harmless, I promise.” She smiles up at him and readies the book she had been clutching since she was big enough to carry it. The book folds open at exactly half, hovering just above her lap. She pulls a fine quill from her hair and gestures for him to hurry. Knowledge was her interest, above all else. “If I write the legend in blood it cannot be changed. However, if you lie in your own story I am afraid your own blood will rot within the veins of your own body.” She said it as if it was no big deal, but the book could only be written in truth, and the last man who wrote in the book died a slow and painful death; hence her story was probably wrong with good reason.

Guyon brings his eyebrows together, the necessity for his blood seemed, well... unnecessary to him. The centaur didn't trust magic much, as it hadn't done well for him to encounter it. He had the claws to prove it. He shakes his head quickly "I'll tell yeh the story, but I won' give you meh blood. Teh only way yeh could get it is if yeh took me on in battle 'nd managed teh collect it there." At the mention of the consequences of lying, the centaur raises both brows while simultaneously dropping his head down, chin nearly touching his chest; slightly shocked by the cut and dry statement, he shakes his head again. "B'sides," he adds "Wha' I 'ave teh tell yeh isn't a legend. Tis the truth."

Annabelle frowns. What good was a story, truth or legend, if it could not be recorded? She yawns tiredly. "Tell you what..." She stands quite suddenly. "Meet me for dinner at my house in Larket tomorrow evening. You can tell me your story, and I can be at ease with the book safely in its place." She yawns again; the night seemed to have snuck up on her rather suddenly.

Guyon nods silently, "I'll think 'bout it. But only if yeh promise nawt teh try 'nd take my blood." The centaur smiles at the woman.

Annabelle grins. "I promise not to take your blood. I am not a Vampire after all. The Book demands truth, but if you do not want to correct history, it is not my job to make you." She offers another curtsy and retreats. "Good night, Mammon."