Brothers in more refined arms...

[Eduard]

Robert skimmed a smile. That was the only metamorphosis of a salute he could assault his actual conversation partner with, and this apparently heinous and vulgar affront ( in his opinion ) manifested by not replying with the proper, courtesy willing, forms of salutation was not to be thanked to whatever shameless and shallow initiative he may have drafted for the sole purpose of graying the conversation, as his silence was provoked, or actually, encouraged by Achille's staunch display of impetuous fervour in engaging in what appeared to be a lugubriously coloured and enunciated speech of his, pertaining to the ancestral and spectral realms of philosophy as they tangled and engulfed the monotone plains of reality.

Like a feline predator calmly stalking its prey from the auspicious shelters of the shadows, Robert focused the entirety of his attention at no other object but the physical materialization of Achille, allowing his auditory perceptions to feast on the harmonious phonic creations that Achille launched through the tight clutches of his lips, assembling them in finespun battalions of phonetic vibrations that eventually incarnated into colourful words.

His expression paused, as if the laws of time decided not to lay any form of affliction or affection upon them today. His right hand, twirled inside the leash's handle thrust forth for his beard adorned chin, stroking and rubbing it in a manner expressing his desire to penetrate the nefarious depths of a contemplative state which would unlikely offer any availing return.

Even his furry companion gave signs that it too, started to engage into a heavy battle against chaotic armies of thoughts, separating disorder from rationalism. But appearances are only illusions carved by what the spectators actually want to indulge their eyes with, for his leopard did nothing but assume the position which preceded her startle, relaxing and perhaps napping as her weigh was fornicated by the soft grass beneath her.

Achille finally finished his speech. This gave Robert the exquisite opportunity to allow his lips to sing forth musical masterpieces of his own stratagems, resonated by his typical voice. The songs he sung forth followed a set of notes different to that of Achille's, they were more colourful, they seemed foreign and peculiar, but to the ever vigilant ears and blood of Achille, they were nothing but familiar.

Indeed, Robert percolated the tidal waves of this conversation, waves whose catalyst is none other but Achille, with the language of his own, Gaul. To any other individual unfamiliarized with the structures of this fine music he is playing, the language would seem weird, garbled, inefficient and not understandable, but to Achille, they would be heard as follow:

" I cannot abstain from inquiring you the justification of your reluctant nature in apprehending me with the exquisite language we were bestowed upon since birth, my most exquisite, amiable, friend. Despite we are all alone here, surveyed by none other that our own prying eyes, and my beloved companion... " he said, slightly switching his view towards his leopard, who at the same time gazed upon him as if it could understand his words " ... You continue to engulf me with the ludicrously wet Bretonian tongue. " he ended his honest confession, carving a grin upon his face, expressing the satirical nature of his statement.

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King Eduard is the greatest