Word: Soigne

 

soigné

or soi·gnée

[ swahn-yey; French swa-nyey ]

adjective

1. carefully or elegantly done, operated, or designed.
2. well-groomed.

 ********************************

Princess Eldetta was the very picture of royal elegance and poise. Her fine dress was the height of courtly fashion, and highlighted all her best features. She stood perfectly straight and when she moved, she did not walk so much as glide over the well-polished floors of the royal ball room. 

She spoke to lords and higher nobles with grace and the politeness required when talking to others of high birth. Even when she ate, she did so with small, dainty bites. To all the world, she looked like the perfect example of a princess. Elegant, polite, dignified. Regal, even.  

Everyone who actually knew her could tell she was hating every moment of it. 

A trio of people who obviously did not belong among the lords and ladies huddled in the corner, eating the high-class food with abandon. They were technically there to act as guards in case something went wrong, but they were more interested in the Princess than watching for trouble. 

“She hasn’t punched anyone yet.” The group’s rogue, Nic, said. “You owe me two silver.”  

“Not yet I don’t. She still has...” The party’s guardian, Gregor looked at the tall standing clock, “six minutes to punch someone’s lights out.” 

“Close enough. If she hasn’t hit anyone yet, she’s probably not going to.” 

“Don’t say that.” Hissed the mage, Abbi. “I’ve got her lasting until 11 before someone gets his teeth knocked out. If she makes it all night, I’ll be out five.” 

“You two just underestimate the willpower of our dear princess, that’s all.” Nic said. 

“Hey, hey, guys, look who she’s talking to.” Gregor said, eyes lighting up in anticipation. 

All of them watched as Eldetta made polite conversation with a nobleman known for being one of the worst people alive. The princess’s hand clenched into fists. Her forearms bunched under her dress. But no punch was made. The clock chimed the hour. Gregor’s broad shoulders slumped. 

“Damn. Thought I’d had it there.” He muttered. 

Eldetta glided over to the group, probably making the excuse that she was checking on the hired guards. She smiled gently, the look of one talking to slightly respectable lessers. 

“What’s the bet, and who’s winning?” She asked. 

“Whether or not you punch someone.” Abbi said. “Gregor’s already out. I’ve got you to 11, and Nic is you making it through the night.”  

“Anything between that is mine.” Eldetta said. “Oh, and remember, any mention of this tomorrow, and I break your arm in two places.” 

“Yes, Princess, of course Princess.” Nic said, with an overly dramatic bow. 

“I’d hit you for that, but this is the one damn place where it’s actually important.” The princess muttered. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to keep playing the good little princess with people who can’t hold a sword to save their life.”    

She gave the trio a small nod reserved for particularly favored servants, and then headed off to pretend to be interested in some young lord’s stories. Gregor, no longer nearly as interested in Eldetta’s restraint, actually did his job. Mostly, anyway. 

He soon spotted a young man dressed in foreign clothes. Very nice foreign clothes. Most likely a visiting royal himself. He stood the very picture of royal honor and dignity. Every move he made was nearly as elegant as Eldetta’s. And it was very clear that he was doing the exact same thing as she was. 

“Hey guys, check it out.” Gregor said, pointing out the prince. The other two studied him closely. Then watched as prince and princess approached. 

“Five silver that they fight tomorrow, then sleep together in a week.” The guardian said. 

“A week? Pretty generous. I’ll see your five on three days.” Abbi said.  

“You two are giving them too much credit.” Nic said. “I’m in for tomorrow.” 

“Bold. I like it.” Abbi said.  

“Hey, I’d say I’m being pretty generous on that one. Only reason I didn’t go for tonight is because of how hard they’re both trying not to be warriors.” 

“Doesn’t matter why you bet what you did.” Gregor said. “We’re all locked in. Let’s see how this plays out.”

*******************************

I hope all American readers have a top notch Thanksgiving tomorrow. Try and avoid that nasty topic of things that happened recently, okay? No good ever comes of talking about that, even if your entire family agrees. 

For all the people in places that aren't the US, I wish you an very fine day tomorrow. You should probably still avoid talking about that subject though, regardless of what country you're in. 

Word: edentate

 

edentate

[ ee-den-teyt ]

adjective

1. belonging or pertaining to the Edentata, an order of New World mammals characterized by the absence of incisors and canines in the arrangement of teeth and comprising the armadillos, the sloths, and the South American anteaters.
2. toothless.

 

********************************************

The cat was ugly. Her fur was matted and patchy. One of her ears was split nearly in half. She was missing one eye. And, when she opened her mouth, it was revealed that she was completely toothless. And she was exactly what Beth was looking for. 

According to the papers attached to the cat’s enclosure, her name was Ophie, and she was a 10-year-old tortie. Beth only really cared about the name though. The age was irrelevant, and the color was obvious. She held a hand to one of the openings in the clear plastic enclosure. Ophie’s whole ear twitched and her one eye looked at Beth. Then the cat came up and sniffed the human’s hand. Beth slipped a finger into the far too small enclosure. The cat sniffed it more and then rubbed the side of her mouth against it. 

Beth’s heart practically melted right then and there. She called over one of the shelter employees, and young man whose name tag read ‘Jeff.’ 

“Yes? Something I can do for you?” Jeff asked. 

“I think I’d like to have some time with this one.” 

“Ah, Ophie, huh? Good choice. She’s a real sweetheart. It’s a shame there’s such a hard time adopting her.” Jeff said as he opened the enclosure.  

Beth held out her hand for the cat to sniff. She rubbed her rough, matted fur against Beth. The woman gently lifted the cat, who did not seem to have the slightest issue with it. In fact, when Beth brought Ophie to her chest, the cat dug right in for some quality cuddles. Beth’s smile was wide enough that it threatened to split her face in half. 

“Okay, yeah, I don’t care about anything else. I’m definitely adopting her.” Beth said, rubbing that cat at the base of her neck.  

“Really? That’s great.” Jeff said. “There was some real concern about her not being adoptable. She...not the prettiest cat around.” 

“I know. That’s one of the reason’s I’m adopting her.”  

“What do you mean?” 

“I came in here fully planning to adopt at least two cats that nobody else will. Ophie here is one of them, now I just need to find another. So yeah, point me to another that wouldn’t get adopted otherwise.” 

“Really? You mean it?” Jeff asked, wide eyed. 

“Yup. In my old home, I used to volunteer at a shelter. It was tiny. Way smaller than this one. And it always bothered me that everyone always wanted to adopt the younger cats, or the best-looking cats. It was all so superficial. All cats deserve love. Back then, I wasn’t in a position to adopt. Now I am.  So, I’m going home with at least two cats that nobody else will consider.”  

“Well then, I have one that’s perfect. I’ll show you Avocado. He’s a standard grey tabby who...didn’t have the nicest life before coming here. He doesn’t really like others, either human or cat. But I bet in the right home, he’ll warm up to you.” 

“Perfect. And I bet this little lady here will be a big help on that front as well.” Beth said, rocking her new feline companion. 

Ophie looked at her new human and opened her toothless mouth and gave a tiny mew. Beth liked to think that was her way of agreeing with her idea.

****************************

All cats deserve love, even the ugly and unpleasant ones. Remember, if you want a cat, either go to your local shelter or adopt one off the street. Fancy breeds are all well and good, but there's nothing like the love a street cat can show for the nice human who gave them shelter.

Word: Ramiform

 

ramiform

[ ram-uh-fawrm ]

adjective

1. having the form of a branch; branchlike.
2. branched.

 *******************************

               The campground was filled with children. A handful of adults struggled to keep them from going off into the woods. It was not a particularly dangerous place, being a well used campground, but it would be very easy for the kids of get lost and wander too far away.

               The kids went in all different directions. Some wanted to go exploring. Others wanted to find the nearest place to swim. Others wanted to start a campfire to toast marshmallows, despite it being the middle of the day.

               There was so much going on that nobody noticed the old man wander in until he was already in the middle of the large clearing. He was dressed in robes that looked to be made of bark and vines. His boots were thick and worn. And he had twigs and leaves in his hair in a wild mess that did not seem so chaotic when looked at close enough. In his hand he held a large staff. It was completely straight, save for the top. It seemed like a miniature tree, with a myriad of small, bare branches growing out of the knob at the top.

               The man raised the staff a small amount and brought it down. A silent pulse of something radiated out. Nobody could tell what had happened, but they all knew something had. Even the youngest and most energetic child stopped and turned to the old man. The camp councilors went to approach the stranger, aiming to find out what he wanted. The man spoke before anyone else.

               “The forest has felt a presence. A new keeper has been chosen. One of you gathered here, in this false wilderness. I shall bring this one to the true wilds, where they shall be taught the old ways. The true ways. For the rest of you, you can carry on as you always have. Now, who here can see the true form of my staff?”

               The old man held the staff in front of him and waited. Nobody said anything. His worn brow wrinkled even more than it already was.

               “Ah. I see. None of you know what this staff is. To most, it will appear as a normal thing. Little more than a walking stick with an unusual head. But to one chosen by the forest, it will appear as much more. To one such as that, it will be a thing alive. Now, which among you sees it as such?”

               This time one of the smallest children took a few small, hesitant steps forward. The adults tried to stop the child, but the old man waved them away.

               “What do you see boy?”

               “I see it has a bunch of weird leaves and things like little light bugs on it. And there’s a few little berries and stuff.” The boy said quietly.

               The old man nodded. “Very good. Very good indeed. Hm, but you are quite small. How old are you?”

               “I’m six.”

               “Ah, I see. Too young still. You still need your parents to tend to you. Hm. Very well. As it is too soon yet, I shall leave without you. But we shall meet again. On your 13^th birthday, I shall appear again. We shall being your training then, although you will still remain in the care of your parents. On your 16^th birthday, we shall leave the comforts of your home to journey into the true wilderness, where your training shall truly begin. Now, hold out your right hand. I shall give you a mark so that I may find you when the time is right.”

               The boy, not sure what else to do, and not know his right from his left yet, held out both his hands. The old man raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He held the head of the staff over the boy’s right hand. The branches seemed to glow slightly and a light appeared over the boy’s hand. It was small and soon formed the shape of a tree with a large canopy. It started dark, but rapidly faded until it could barely be seen when looking closely.

               “I have found what I was looking for.” The old man said. “I shall depart and leave you all to enjoy your time here.”

               And with that, he left. The kids all gathered around the boy, trying to see the mark on his hand. The adults spoke quietly to each other, wondering what had just happened and what they should do. No answers were to be found, leaving only more and more questions as the day wore on.

**************************

I am oddly disappointed that this word has nothing to do with rams. I mean, it seems like it should considering the first three letters, but it doesn't. Ah well, such is life.