Unpleasantries, II
Thought I'd continue writing on our poor little cast-out victim. Character development has always been hard for me, and archetypes are just so easy to pull out of a hat and forget, so I feel guilty about writing longer tales. I tried to make this bit focused more on dialogue and a bit of vocal explanation of the situation, rather than being really descriptive, as it seemed to fit waking up from a fainting spell better.
"Absolutely unacceptable."
"What?"
"She's sapient wildlife. A fox woman."
"She was half-dead on the front doormat, for god's sakes Walson!"
"Do you even understand the danger of keeping one in your presence, young master? What this beast can do to your body? The things that could happen simply by feeling attachment to this creature?"
"Let it go. She's staying until she's fed and clothed, and cleaned up. I'm not letting this poor woman die on my property because I was too bourgeois scum to offer a helping hand."
"She is a contagious creature! She could share her very same fate with--"
"Enough, Walson. She stays. Or I go out again, with her."
The conversation echoed in the young woman's head, like a fever dream, as strange images danced watery across her unfocused eyes. She tuned in, vaguely aware that she was still human enough--still able to understand human language; not just butt-sniffing and posturing and geckering, the sorts of things she'd been doing nigh autonomously for the past eight nights. What sounded like a baritone-voiced elderly gentleman spoke up from in front of her, and her ears twitched erect.
"You will do this only under one stipulation; I speak this as your guardian and protector."
There was a sigh from another, behind her, and the much younger and softer voice replied, in mild exasperation toward its neighbor:
"What is it, then. And for god's sakes, be practical Walson. I'm not abandoning her--until I can at least get a name from her mouth!"
"You must imprison her in the garden until we have administered a suppressant for her zorine condition. Furthermore, I thoroughly forbid any intimacy with this creature, regardless of her state of appearance. You know full well what this breed of animal can do--I will not lose you as I--"
"Yeah, yeah, do what you think you have to do!" the younger voice chimed in irritably, cutting off its elder counterpart. "I'm waking her up, though. I'm at least going to tell her what's going on before we slap her into chains and manacles."
She stirred at the notion, hair bristled; eager to strike out at the thought of being placed in captivity--when the notion struck her to lie still, lest she prove herself deserving such treatment.
"Cmon then... wake up." the voice whispered hopefully.
She felt a hand stroke her whiskered face; the first gentle touch in days.