Angry body language sample.
His blood pounds in his head, drowning words and thoughts alike---breathless from the force of it, his breaths come staggered and uneven. He stands straight-backed, chin lowered and shoulders thrown. His stomach burns with how it falls, swooping and tumbling yet the fire burns low in his belly and refuses to lend itself into a spitfire assault. Instead, his tongue lies leaden, stuck to the roof of his mouth.
His teeth grind, a low scraping noise from a trembling jaw. His hands sweat and bleed from crescent marks.
She looks at him, tired in a way that makes the heavy ceremonial robes look like they’ve cemented her to her throne. She looks down at him, grey draperies like cobwebs behind her and silver gossamer in the hair that cascades down slender shoulders. Her skin is ebony, smooth like the obsidian floors of the palace.
“Dismissed,” His Queen says, stirring the thick air. He tries to bow and thinks he might fall, collapse onto steep stairs, but the pounding in his head shows him no such mercy.
He leaves. Each step shakes the domed ceilings with their finality.
All he has to show for it is a blue ribbon, from a sister who’d never wear it again. It wasn’t worth what he lost.
But it would be.
