Defied
Just an exercise. Trying to get bigger, more interesting words back into my active vocabulary.
Does this sound stodgy to you, or is it nice?
The cat looks intently at the edge of the table. Her bronze eyes bespeak her intentions: she would try her reign from this elevated place. Coiling springlike energy down into her haunches, an instant of quiet tension and calculation. Then, in one powerful movement, she launches herself three feet into the air, hooks her paws on the edge and forwards herself even higher, a leap of such precision and delicacy that might put any prima donna to shame. By the time gravity catches up with her, it is too late; she has already gained purchase of her goal with all four paws. A wondrous maneuver, brilliantly executed.
Unfortunately, she cannot stay.
You scoop one open hand under her belly, lift her scant weight with hardly an effort, and transport her to an area which is more convenient for you. The instant you pick weight up off of her legs, they become silken fluid. She droops, either extreme of her small form dangling, limp as wet seaweed, from your unyielding support. Her apparent power has been shattered. She knows the futility of struggling in this gargantuan grip. Instinct and training directs her to wait until she is liberated, as struggle will only injure. The cat has been effectively paused.
Once you arrive at an adequately removed location, you deposit her back on her dainty feet with a inconsequential drop of a few inches. She absorbs the concussion with all the grace of a liquid creature.
Her coat is ruffled from your handling of her, and from her discontent. The tip of her tail indignantly flicks. This goddess, a miniature incarnation of noble wilderness, in whose eyes still blaze the sands of ancient Egypt, has had her will defied.
Disoriented, she sniffs, acquainting herself with the alternative locale, and selects for herself a new throne. She will not spare a glance in your direction.
Sarah D. Silvey 