Fantasy Fiction - Male/Female Dialogue
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
foolish boy. I feel nothing for you. Her finger extended to poke at his chest, push him to her desires. Make space between his heat that warmed her through. You know nothing of me. three days does not a knowledge, grant! We have danced and wind, but little else If there were words spoken between us, I do not recall them liar! I was there to my lady. We shared many words. He leaned into her finger, forcing her to retreat, or about his advance, yield to his physicality pressing into her. I am not blind. I know the expression in your eyes. Why run from me when you know my heart? I have told you. You have spoken with the passion of a moment upon you! Nothing more. Any feeling. You professes that of close encounters. Late at night when heads were full of drink and eyes upon the stars. What you feel is a lie! Despite your words, the argument tasted of ash against her tongue. Lies upon lies and all. Starting the moment she was introduced at the opening of the ball, and descended the stairs to the main dance floor. She did not fall in love. Love was a thing for simpering toffs, not soldiers, and assassins, and princes and priests. Her people needed her return. No doubt they were already searching after her, leaving. Yet She stared at him, waiting for his words to deny her denial. Curse him! Why are you saying this? Why are you denying us? His hands gripped her shoulders, hauling her close once more. Where she had let the small space between them build You spoke the words back to me, Ella, That is not my name. He stared at her and her heart ache at the pain in his gaze. She should not feel for him, and his integrity, his humor, his compassion, this prince who was barely a man and had stolen her thoughts for three days time and would steal her from the world. She could not leave behind. No. And that was worse that he wanted to keep her with him. And she was weak enough to desire it. If he learned her name, he would hate her, hate who and what she was. And yet she wanted nothing more than to tell him and see what response he would have. Her fingers spread over the crisp feel of his doublet, the velvet brocade stitched with golden thread to set off the deep red number, pressing for the beat of his heart beneath her hand. Another lie! He cupped her cheek, and even knowing the road was clear at her back, that she was free to run if she but turned away. She could not move, denied the desire to holding his gaze which so easily captured hers. She was soft towards him. She should not yield. It would be so easy to take the sword at his hip and finish what her people had long sought but been denied. Who would have thought to enchant the prince in a dance. It was trickery, and not the way of the woods that were subtle and swift. What is your name then? If not that which you have so easily said to me these past nights. The name was there on her tongue, waiting to sound in the air between them, hiding for a desperate moment more. Leave shivered with the breeze broke across the moonlight, filtering through their canopy, showing his face within the darkness. He didn't think her name would matter. Shirley and Abigail, or a Tabatha, or even a Rebecca would not change his mind towards her. But her name was none of those. Her name was a title and he would low the title once he heard it. To have his hatred felt a worse fate than the slip and knife between his ribs and end him quickly. Please do not ask this of me. It was the only plea she had ever made in her life, whatever make in her life. Yes, she had started the damn conversation, opened herself to the questioning, but she didn't want to answer him. She wasn't ashamed of who she was. But there was a niggling prayer deep in her gut. A wish to the night to let her carry on the charade of these three days rather than go back to what she was. Stop this! If he heard the emotion in her voice. Perhaps he would take it to heart and leave her be before. She was required to spout harsher realities to him. Let this memory be sweet. Do not taint it with the truth. I am your prince. She looked away, fingers digging into his jacket. Her words came out a shrill laugh. You are nothing to me.
Tags
Boss, Elf, Hero, Melodramatic, Narrator, Romantic, North American (General)