The Heart of a Faun, the Heart of a Forest [OPEN]

[Philomel]

When one looks at her they sometimes assumed the worst. Striding down the street, Philomel had the swagger of a natural born seductress, born from early years of training and practised through the art of sword-mastery. Hips swung, head was held high and she patted her lips with little to no breaths, yet held a perfect pout throughout. This was her natural stance, however, one honed as a dancer perfects their art and cannot help but waltz through the streets. It gave her undue attention and unwanted assumptions, especially from the various people who stopped her in her path.

This particular one, today, was called "Frent". He was heckled by a friend and sent to, "Go get that whore.'

"Hey sweetheart," his breath stank of beer and tobacco. "You're a bit ... unusual aren't you?"

His eyes wandered up and down her long lithe body, going from her carefully bloused torso, down the length of her belted waist and then the span of her muscled, furry legs. The sight stopped at her hooves, drinking in, for a moment, the sight of the unusual single undulate, and then swept back up to her stunned, large eyes.

"How much for you, huh?"

She blinked, eyebrows rising. "Excuse me?" her voice was full of shock and horror, not thinking her attire - a high necked top and enough fabric at her waist to blanket a horse - was at all inviting.

"I said 'how much?'" Frent grinned, his friends punching each other in the cold narrow street behind them. "How much for a good night?"

A fast hand and she slapped him, hard across the face. Fury was written clear in her eyes for the sake that no one spoke to her in that way any more. A large ugly welt appeared on Frent's cheek and he stared at her for some time before his lips began to tremble.

Philomel twisted her hip, glaring at him with a gaze so deep and hateful that it could have killed. Then, without another word, and no desire in anyway today to have any sort of company that she had solicited, she turned and left, leaving him in the dirt. On the cobbles of the slowly dying dusk, forgetting the pub she had considered going into, abandoning all hope of a good day on this, the first day of a holiday.

That was until her ears picked up the comments of his friends. She paused, shocked, but after a moment she kept going, resisting the urge to twist and call out - but onwards she went. But faster. More eager. Looking into her mind and contacting her dear Veridian, fox companion because something had occurred.

A rare being had been found in this, their holiday place. Where Philomel had not come for ... Well. Professional services

What the men had said was thus:

"Not like that other faun, huh?"