>There weren't words for this sort of fury.
>You were glaring daggers at your father, who sat in the front row of seats amongst the audience, wearing a ludicrously expensive doublet and a smile which positively dripped with self-satisfaction. 
>That spiteful old fucker. 
>Your eyes roamed over the rest of the chapel's peculiar conglomerate of visitors, your mood growing ever more sour as you did so.
>Kobolds.
>The chapel was packed wall-to-wall with them. It wasn't every day that you saw your esteemed auntie casually chatting with a four-foot tall lizard person. 
>You hated kobolds. Hated them with a passion. 
>So naturally, you were going to marry one, and spend the rest of your natural life moping around in a cave, all because your father wanted to get on the king's good side.
>You see, up until recently the city of Hightower had a minor problem wherein its trade routes were under constant harassment by kobolds. Your father, ever the diplomat, had sought to solve this problem through marriage. 
>And now here you were, standing at the altar and waiting to be wed to the defacto leader of these scaly locust. 
>Oh, your father had honeyed you up, alright. "You'll be a hero," he'd said. "You'll be laying the foundation for an alliance that'll last for centuries!" 
>What utter bollocks. It'd been a vie for the King's favour, plain and simple. 
>He marries you off to a savage, the crown cobbles together some hodge-podge truce atop of said marriage, and hey presto! The King has one less enemy and one more trading partner.
>Your hands were wound into fists of fury so tight that your nails might've actually been drawing blood from your palms.
>You could see your older brother waving at you from the back of the room, smirking evilly like the smug little ill-born bastard he was. You didn't wave back -- you simply burrow yourself deeper into your little hole of despair and pray to whoever's listening that you'll wake up from this nightmare. 
>You were Anon Ithguard: firstborn son to one of the finest generals in Hi Majesty's army and arguably the most eligible bachelor in the whole city of Hightower. 
>For people like you, marriage was your prime purpose in life. From cradle to adulthood you'd been whittled into every highborn wench's wet dream. 
>Fencing? You'd mastered it. Poetry? You'd memorized books of the stuff. The ins and outs of charm? Fine dining and wines? The pleasuring of women beneath the sheets? Been there, done that, won the gold medal.
>In the game of nobles and kings, sons and daughters were naught but pieces on a chessboard, and you'd been determined to make a fine bishop of yourself. Or maybe a knight. Well, a rook, at the very least...
>Well, here was your father, tossing you face-first into the shit like you were a common pawn.
>A fucking pawn! You were far and away the best thing ever to come from his rotten old loins and he was carting you off with some... REPTILE skank... All for the sake of getting into the King's good books.
>Behind you the organ-player began tickling the keys to the tune of 'here comes the bride', and your heart sinks a little further into your stomach as you realise that, yes, this is really happening. 
>You're marrying a kobold. 
>You let the sheer horror behind those four words sink in. You're. MARRYING. A. KOBOLD. 
>The chapel doors open wide, and your bride comes marching in, storming down the isle with a dour frown on her scaly lips.
>Her scales were the hue of a red sunrise, and her eyes like two orbs of melted gold, split down the middle by the onyx slits of her pupils. A pair of yellowed horns flared upwards out of the back of her head, the left one sporting a hefty chip halfway down its length. 
>Her wedding dress was little more than a bundle of off-white rags stitched together into a clumsy mockery of clothing, and the two rings in her right ear looked to be nothing more than plain steel, engraved with some incomprehensible runes. 
>So this was going to be your wife. An oversized gecko stuffed into a stapled-together mess of a wedding dress. 
>Her warpath led her up to the steps to your side, where she abruptly stopped, turned to face you and pointed a clawed finger towards you accusingly. "You Anon?"
>The impatient growl of her voice caught you by surprise. She sounded about as happy with this whole arrangement as you were. Why though, you couldn't say. Sewer-filth like herself should've been honoured to have your hand in marriage.
>"I am. And I take it you're 'Queen' Rashna?" You reply, greasing the word 'queen' in as much sarcasm as humanly possible. This upstart lizard had taken the title upon herself after she'd united several of the kobold tribes which festered amongst the countryside surrounding Hightower. 
>Had the wellbeing of the kingdom not hinged upon this marriage, you would've spat at her feet there and then. Queen? She was a common brigand with delusions of grandeur. 
>And you were marrying her. 
>Anon Ithguard, perhaps the finest example of good breeding and chivalry in the whole goddamn city, belonging to one of the wealthiest families in the country, was marrying a scaled slut who robbed peasants and farmers for a living. 
>Somewhere in the congregation, you can hear one of your brothers laughing. 
>You can't blame them. If it hadn't been you at the altar, you would've laughed five times as hard. 
>"No more talk. We... marry... now." she grunts, folding her arms. She struggles with the word 'marry'. 
>You doubted she even understood the meaning of the word. For all you knew, kobolds didn't even GET married. They probably just fucked each other in their filthy caves and birthed bastards by the dozens. 
>"Very well, then." you seethe, turning to the vicar and beckoning him to go ahead with a small nod. He clears his throat, trying and failing to keep the amused smile from his face.
>You realise he thinks it's funny. Your life is being flushed down the toilet and the fucking vicar is sniggering like a school boy. At this point, it's merely more piss on the ashes of your pride. 
>"We are gathered here today to witness the joining of this man, and this... Kobold-"
>The demeaning giggles from the congreation swell up from behind you, and the lump in your throat grows all the tighter. All those years spent learning the ways of a gentleman...
>"-In holy matrimony. It is a most holy agreement, a joining of minds, souls and bodies-"
>Someone somewhere made a wolf whistle, and the vicar barely managed to bite back a snort of laughter. All those years practising the art of conversation and romance...
>"-If anybody can think of a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."
>You know it's coming. Somehow that makes it hurt all the more. One of your brothers cups his hands to his mouth and yells "Aye! He's marryin' a fookin' gecko!" and a chorus of voices rear up in scathing laughter. You can hear your father's amongst them. All of those years spent building yourself up into the man you were today...
>Wasted.
>You lean in closer to the vicar, and adress him in a threatening whisper, all the while fighting to keep the tears from your eyes. There's a gauntlet of shame clamping down on your windpipe, turning your voice into a weak croak. "Just skip to the bloody end and get it over with."
>Mercifully, the wedding is over fast. 
>Within the hour the two of you had exchanged rings and were out of the door, loaded into the back of your 'wedding carriage', which was essentially a rickety old wagon towed by a pair of mules. 
>Thankfully you'd been saved the embarrassment of sticking around for cake and champagne -- A few of the kobold guests had found their way into the kitchen and left nothing but crumbs and empty bottles. 
>You huddle into your seat, balefully examining the ring your... Wife... Had given you. It was a simple band of iron, crudely smelted and engraved with runes. Fittingly, it resembled a manacle. 
>Rashna slumped down next to you, arms crossed and refusing to make eye contact. She'd barely spoke for the entire wedding, the last words you heard from her being "I Do."
>You took no notice of her. You were a little too busy mourning over the loss of everything worthwhile in your life.
>Your social status had plummeted into the ground the second you'd slid a ring onto Rashna's finger, and you'd went from eligible bachelor to laughing stock of the city in the space of seconds. 
>Your wealth and property was all in Hightower, and considering you were going to live with Rashna and her band of kobold savages, you'd be lucky to see the inside of the city once in a blue moon.
>Fine wines? Good cooking? Archery ranges? Gambling tables? A quality bed? All gone. 
>The folks inside the chapel had laughed you out of the door. They were spilling out onto the roads even now, barraging you with their mocking waves and chiding cheers. 
>The rider cracked the reins, and the cart jostled into motion, pulling away from the chapel and down the road, towards the city walls.
>As you passed the through the gatehouse's portcullis, you look over your shoulder. The domed roofs and pointed towers that you'd called home for all your life faded into the horizon, and the urge to cry gnawed at you now harder than ever.
>Finally, after a silence that seems to go on forever, your newlywed wife speaks. "Human no talk much." she grunted, tugging her patchy cloak tighter around her shoulders as the sun slid behind the mountains and the wind took on a bitter chill. 
>You shrugged, still a little too shellshocked to formulate a proper answer. "Neither do you." you reply. 
>Neither of you said anything. You angled your head upwards, staring thoughtlessly at the darkening sky, lost in your own little world of despair whilst Rashna watched the passing hills and trees with eyes as keen as a huntress'. For a moment you'd thought... Hoped... that the conversation had been ended then and there. 
>Then Rashna spoke again. "Rashna no want be mate with you." 
>"Oh? Well I suppose that makes two of us."
>...
>"Rashna no want be mate with you. But am. Mates... Talk. So talk to Rashna." she said in broken english. 
>Had it not occured to her that you weren't in the talking mood? You try shooting her a venemous glare, only to realise that you couldn't find the will. You'd burnt up all your anger back at the chapel. Now you just felt... Empty.
>"Well, what do you want to talk about?" you sigh. 
>Rashna shrugs, and you roll your eyes. "You see? We don't have anything to talk about, because you and I have nothing in common. So how's about we spend the rest of this trip in silence, hmm?"
>She pulled her golden eyes from the passing countryside, and fixed her firey gaze onto you. They twinkled with hot embers of fury as her paws kneaded themselves into fists and her lips drew up into the beginning of a snarl. 
>For the briefest of moments, you thought that she might actually try to kill you -- something you frankly would've welcomed at this point -- then she turned her attention back to the hills with a seething sigh of frustration. 
>"Stupid human. Rashna no like."
>The rest of the trip passed in relative peace, both you and Rashna deigning not to piss each other off more than you already had. Eventually the wagon veered off of the road, shambling across open grassland towards the lights of the ramshackle encampment where you'd be living from now on.
>It sat at the foot of a mountain you'd seen every morning from your bedroom's window back in Hightower. As a child you'd dreamt of visiting it one day and scaling its height. Now that you were finally up close to it, you wanted nothing more than to get away. 
>Its gargantuan silhouette, black against the amber of the sunset, loomed over you, foreboding in all the worst ways. 
>The wagon drew closer, and you got your first real look of what'd be your new home. 
>The rudimentary wooden palisade and watchtowers was all the settlement had in terms of fortifications. A pittance of a defence so poorly slapped together that you doubted it could hold its own against a strong wind, little own a raiding party of bandits or a raging monster. 
>A pair of kobolds manning the walls spotted you as you approached, and a moment later a horn rang from within, as if in welcome.
>The drawbridge dropped, the wagon rolled inside, and your heart sank. 
>To call it a shithole would be a disservice to shitholes the world over. It was a joke of a town. An array of logs and rocks piled atop of one another in bare imitations of buildings. Shacks. Hovels. Cabins. Huts.
>You were Anon Ithguard, firstborn son to Dalton Ithguard, who's ancestors ranked amongst the legendary, and you were going to be spending the rest of your natural life in a hut. 
>As if noticing your dawning horror, Rashna spoke up. "Kobolds no make houses good. Still learning. Houses are for farmers; crops need sunlight, no grow inside. Everybody else live in caves."
>Oh, wonderful. That's a weight of your shoulders. You're NOT living in a hut, you're living in a cave at the foot of mount doom, bunking beds with unwashed, lizard-freak savages. Because that sounds so much better.
>The wagon came to a halt, and although you couldn't see them, you could feel the eyes of the ramshackle town's denizens sizing you up from the shadows. It made you feel sullied. Unclean. So much so that you were loathe to leave the confines of the wagon, even as Rashna vaulted over the side and beckoned at you to follow.
>"Human blind? We here. Get out of wagon." she ordered, and the fact that she thought she had the right to boss you about pissed you off so much that you forgot all about the prying eyes.
>You stepped off of the wagon and onto the ground at a leisurely pace -- to make sure that Rashna and anybody else watching knew that you were doing it on your OWN accord and not because some pint-sized chameleon told you to -- and followed your newlywed wife towards the gaping maw of a cave imbedded into the mountainside.
>Its ragged mouth pulsed with orange torchlight and overflowed with kobolds, each yipping and cheering greetings in their own savage, backwards language as Rashna waved to them. 
>Lovely. More of the little bastards. 
>Rashna hurried towards the mass of jabbering retards, her arms spread wide. They welcomed her to their mass in what you could only describe as a 'group hug', and as you made an attempt to edge past them unnoticed, a random, scaly paw clamped around your wrist and pulled you into the crowd.
>you didn't so much as manage to say 'unhand me' before a dozen kobolds piled atop of you and shat all over the very concept of 'personal space'. Your protests were lost in the incessant babble of their gravely voices as curious paws grabbed ahold of whatever they could find.
>"Is Rashna's new mate? So pretty!"
>"Where his claws? Where fangs?"
>"Skin is so soft... Very nice."
>"*riiiip* Hmph! Stupid human clothes. Tear easy!"
>"He stink bad...*snff snff* ... Like flowers."
>Eventually Rashna freed you from your torment, warding off your harrassers with grunted commands as she approached you. Her paw wrapped around your arm, its grip far tighter than any of the other kobolds' roaming fingers. There was something fierce in the way she held you. Something primal.
>"This am Rashna's mate!" she exclaims. "Any female try to take him from Rashna, then Rashna fight them in the pit, and Rashna kill. Understand?" she draws her eyes across the crowd, daring anyone to meet them, lingering on a female kobold who'd been particularly bold in groping you.
>They hold each other's stare for all of five seconds before the other female submits. She shrinks back into the mass of kobolds, but not before giving you a glance over her shoulder and a flick of her serpentine tongue that made you feel dirty in all the wrong ways. 
>Rashna's golden eyes narrow themselves into daggers and follow the slim, aquamarine figure of the other female as she slinks away, daring her to turn around. 
>And then, as soon as her authoritativeness had came, it went, and she was back to smiling and embracing the other kobolds, as if the standoff hadn't even happened.
>After a few more hardy hellos on her end and some reluctant conversation on yours, the crowd dispersed, and allowed you and Rashna to continue down into the depths of the cave.
>"Bedrooms this way. You come." she says, leading you ever further into the bowels of the mountain. You followed without question, too weary to set her right for bossing you about. Where there were bedrooms there were usually bathrooms nearby, and the groping, grubby paws of the kobolds had left you feeling positively filthy. 
>Then you remembered that you were inside a fucking mountain, and that the nearest bathtub was probably miles away back in Hightower, along with all the other luxuries that came with living in the civilized world. Running water, cutlery, proper bedding -- you'd find none of it here in this grim blister on the... arse-end... of... 
>You reached the end of the tunnel, and your breath caught in your throat as the cave opened up into a colossal antechamber. 
>The ceiling was easily a hundred or more feet above your head, and the smoothed black stone of the walls was stricken through with twinkling veins of gold, silver and copper from the ground all the way up to the top. The thuggish runes of the kobold's written language sprawled across their surface in messy tangles of writing -- what it said, you could only imagine.
>Most impressive of all, however, was the hulking skeleton of a dragon stood in the centre of the room, its back arched and its wings spread wide to their full, mighty breadth, the skeletal fingers of its wing-digits coated in an artificial and patched membrane of leather. 
>The empty sockets of its eyes glowered down upon you, and the beast's maw hung open in a silent roar, bearing a collection of teeth akin to a sprawl of ivory scimitars. 
>Rashna doesn't wait for you to stop gawking at the dead titan, instead gripping you by the wrist and tugging you towards one of the many openings flowing out from the antechamber.
>"Human stop staring. Waste time. You come bedroom now."
>You let her lead you along, sparing one last glance over your shoulder at the skeletal monstrosity. As you did so, you noticed the heaped mounds of gems and riches piled around its ankles, toes adhorned with priceless trinkets and heels stepped in hills of gold.
>Offerings. Gifts. Worship.
>The revelation hit you hard, and you look back at Rashna with a newfound revulsion.
>A monster. They were worshipping a monster.
>Rashna pulled you down a dimly lit corridor. You passed by a throng of guards, armed with spears and garmented in some crude imitation of armour comprised of pots, pans and whatever else they'd managed to pilfer from the scrapheap. They stoically nod to Rashna as she passes. 
>She leads you through the door they were guarding, and to your pleasant surprise, you were greeted by the sight of a bed. 
>A NICE bed. King sized, four-poster and loaded with welcoming pillows, fat with feathers. It was like an oasis in the middle of a desert. A diamond atop a hill of turds. The single sliver of proper civilisation you'd seen so far in this repulsive shitheap full of beast worshippers and barbarians.
>You tore yourself away from the bed to inspect the rest of the room. Drawers, cabinets, a mirror, some god-awful DIY attempt at a dresser... It wasn't much, but it was leagues ahead of the barren hole in the floor you'd pictured in your head.
>"This... This is my room?" You asked as cool, soothing relief doused over you. As hopeless as your situation was, at the very least you weren't sleeping on a mattress of rocks. 
>Then Rashna spoke, and snuffed the meagre flame that'd been your hope. "No, this Rashna's room. Me just let you stay here." Her paw moved to the clasp of her cloak and undid it, letting it spill over her shoulders into a heap on the floor. You turn away blushing as she pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly next to her cloak.
>"W-what in the name of the Gods are you doing?!"
>"It late. Rashna tired. Sleep now." she grunted, vaulting onto the bed and worming her way beneath the sheets. You don't dare look until you're certain she's covered herself, and when you did, you notice the rest of her clothing thrown to the foot of the bed. Oh bloody hell, she's naked. "Human sleep too. Tomorrow big day."
>"I.. But I... Were am I supposed to sleep?"
>Rashna props herself up on her elbows, and the sheets slipped from her chest as she does so. You moved to shield your eyes, only to realise that there was nothing to shield them from. Oh yeah, she's a kobold. No tits. 
>She cocked an eyebrow at you sceptically, as if questioning whether or not you were actually as stupid as she obviously thought you were. "In bed. Sleeping what beds are FOR, dumb human. Now stop waste time and lay next to Rashna. Lot of work tomorrow, need sleep."
>"I'm NOT sleeping with you." you said firmly. That's it. The line's been crossed. You'd let her take you from your home, you'd held your tongue when she told you you'd be living in a fucking cave, but there was no way -- NO WAY -- you were going to share a bed with some... Some dragon-praising she-iguana!
>Rashna stared at you for a little while, and then, in a flawless show of wisdom, comes up with a solution.
>She threw a pillow to your feet and then ferreted her way back into her nest of bed sheets. "Sleep on floor then, Rashna no care." she said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. 
>You should be furious, trembling with righteous anger that something as low as her would have someone like you sleep on the floor like some diseased mutt.
>You should've been, but as hard as you tried to be angry, all that seemed to come was a rending feeling of devastation.
>You were arguing over a bed. This morning you'd been the firstborn son to one of the most prestigious families in Hightower, and now you were living in a cave and being made to sleep on the floor. 
>All gone. Everything you'd loved, everything you'd cherished, gone. 
>You lay yourself down on the floor, away from the bed, in an adjoining room. Then you hug the pillow to your chest, close your eyes and pray to the Gods that Rashna doesn't hear you crying yourself to sleep.
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>It's the middle of the night (at least you think it is -- it's awfully hard to discern the time when one is trapped in the bowels of a cave) and you're laying with your head resting on a worn pillow, staring up at the carved stone ceiling and contemplating...
>Whatever.
>Your mother had once called it Midnight Philosophy: the act of staying awake when one should be asleep and running questions through their mind which could easily wait for tomorrow. 
>You'd been a serial offender in your earlier years, so much so that your mother had made a habit of checking up on you every night at twelve, and putting you to sleep with a lullaby and a kiss on the forehead, had you been staring up at the ceiling just as you were now.
>It didn't make you feel like any less of a man to admit that you'd do anything to have your mother back, just for the night, so she could sing you a couple verses of The Grumpy Gnoll & Humphrey the Troll and kiss your head so sweetly just as she had when you were five.
>Now, more than ever, you needed the comfort. 
>The next room over, it sounded as if your newlywed wife was trying to string together a symphony of grunts and growls. The sheets rustled as Rashna tossed and turned in fretful sleep, spasming and kicking her legs like a dreaming dog. 
>Your wife.
>The thought was enough to make your head spin and your guts churn. Your wife, the bandit-lizard. The throat-cutter who stole her living from the pockets of others. The dungeon-dwelling monster. The cave-savage.
>The cave-savage with a comfortable bed that was looking more and more appealing the longer you spent on your mattress of pebbles and rocks. Truly your world had turned topsy-turvy; the beasts slumbered in lavish beds whilst the men curled up on the floor and slept like hounds. 
>So this was going to be your life from now on. A dank, grey cave without so much as a warm bed to look forwards to come night time. All of those years you'd toiled, whittling and crafting yourself into the perfect bachelor, just so you could end up here.
>Not for the first time, you feel the sour dagger of betrayal sinking its blade into the depths of your heart. Who betrayed you, you ask? Everyone. Your father. Your bastard brother. All of the familiar faces who held their tongues back at the chapel when the vicar had asked if anybody objected to this unholy sham of a marriage. 
>As far as you were concerned, the whole of Hightower could rot in Hell. The only decent person in that city of snakes had been your mother, and she'd been dead for nigh on a decade.
>You wince as you shift your weight onto a pointed rock, picking it out from underneath you and grumpily tossing it across the dinky chamber. Oh, the things you'd do for a comfortable bed... You stare longingly at the entrance to Rashna's room. She HAD offered to let you sleep beside her...
>But that wasn't an option. You might've had everything of material worth taken from you, but you still had your pride, and you weren't about to give that up for a comfy bed...
>... Then again, a warm duvet and a soft mattress sounded all sorts of inviting.
>You shake the traitorous thoughts from your head before they have time to spread their roots. Sleeping in the bed meant sleeping next to Rashna, and you'd sooner spend the rest of your nights napping in an outhouse than next to that midget drake.
>Squeezing shut your eyes and forcing sleep upon yourself, your mind's eye drifts back to warm memories of your mother, as if to escape the gnawing cold which surrounds you. 
>You slip away into unconsciousness, clinging desperately to old memories of your mother and dreading the inevitable morning.
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>Mornings were your favourite part of the day. You'd wake up early to white-gold sunlight gushing in through your bedroom windows, soap yourself in the bath tub until you smelled of roses, and then fix yourself up in the mirror before taking yourself downstairs to enjoy a hearty breakfast.
>If you had to choose, you'd say it was the twenty or so minutes spent perfecting your appearance in the mirror that was the true highlight of your day. 
>The tidying of your hair, the subtle application of powder to your face, the faint mist of perfume you scented yourself with; all were tweaks and changes so tiny that individually they would've gone unnoticed, but together gave you an air of beauty so enticing that when you walked out the front door and made your way down the street, every man, woman and child turned their head to watch to go.
>And that was how you started your days: squeaky clean, on a full stomach and looking two hundred percent sexy. 
>This one started with a kick to the gut.
>A scaly foot jabs you beneath the ribs, not forceful enough to hurt but more than hard enough to tear you away from the sweet solitude of your dreams. You come awake with a tormented groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
>"What the hell...?" you grumble, following the offending leg upwards until you came eye-to-eye with its owner. Rashna stands over you cross-armed, stony-faced and surprisingly domineering for someone just under four feet tall. She glowers down at you, unimpressed. You glower up at her, positively furious. "You kicked me!"
>"No, Rashna WAKE you. Human sleep too long. There things to do today. No time for being lazy." she says matter-of-factly, biting off each sentence with an impatient snap.
>"Oh, well that's VERY easy for you to say. YOU aren't the one who spent the night on the floor!" you retort, hauling yourself to your feet and massaging at you horrendously sore back. "Must've been nice having a big bed like that all to yourself!"
>"Human chose to sleep on floor. Not Rashna's fault human is stupid." she seethes through gritted teeth. 
>"If you think I'm going to share a bed with YOU, then you're bloody mistaken!"
>Rashna readies a scathing reply, but swallows it at the last second, pinching the bridge of her reptilian snout and letting her mounting rage hiss out from between her lips in a sharp sigh. "No time for this. Human up now, so follow Rashna. No more argue. Waste time." 
>Five minutes into the morning and you're already angry. Right now there's a thousand things you'd like to say to dear, beloved wife, each less gentlemanly than the last. Having you sleep on the floor, kicking you awake like a mutt, accusing you of oversleeping, it was simply unacceptable! 
>It made your head spin how a half-sentient snake like her could be so... so...
>Arrogant!
>You browse through your mental list of insults, readying your worst -- but by the time you had something ready, she'd already turned to leave. It wasn't storming off as much as it was simply walking away. Just turning on her heel and waltzing out on you right in the middle of a conversation.
>"Where are you - hey! Don't you have ANY manners?" you growl, chasing her down as she walks out of the room and down the dark, torch-lit hallway. You can't just walk away from a conversation! Hey, where the hell are you going? I'm talking to you!"
>"No, human talking AT Rashna," she spits, shaking her head as she stomps away from you in her brutish, hostile strut. "Humans always talking, but say nothing. They stand around and share empty words. Make Rashna go to big chapel-house and wear stupid dress and listen to preacher-man talk and talk just so she can be mate to whiny brat. Waste whole day."
>You recoil as if she'd just slapped you. Whiny brat. She'd just called you a whiny brat. The... The sheer gall! You might've taken that from your father, maybe even one of your brothers, but you certainly weren't going to take it from a pint-sized crimson crocodile!
>"Oh yes, because fucking one another in the dirt at random is SO much more civilised!" you snap back. "I know it might be a little beyond you to understand the more complex intricacies of marriage, but just because you're too much of a scale-brained moron to understand the concept of dedicating yourself to another, it doesn't make the process a waste of time! I don't know how you lot do it in your dank little caves, but in the civilised world, we practise a little something called loyalty!"