The Masters and Mistresses of the Avari

Mistress Woodpecker

The American coughed awkwardly, staring over at the intimidating, yet beautiful, female sitting across from him. 

She was around the average height for a human, but clearly was not human.

Her grass-green feathers gave her away. (As the diplomat Avari had explained earlier, she had feathers instead of mammal hair.) They swept down to her hips, tiny hints of red nestled among the green here and there. She had them pinned back on both sides of her head, with delicate pins of silver trees.

 Her face hinted at un-human-ness, with its high cheekbones and sapphire-blue eyes ringed with thin lines of black eyeliner. (Or, at least, he thought it was eyeliner.) Her lips faded from the pale pink of roses to a grey tinge around her lips.

She wore a grey tunic of silverstrand, a fabric unique to Avari, belted at the waist with silver cords that told of her status: Fledgling Diplomatic Mistress. A silver pin that matched her hairpins was secured on her collar, also identifying her as a FDM.

The American fidgeted awkwardly. He had just finished talking with her companion, a Diplomatic Mistress. The Avari diplomats made him nervous, with their strange looks and piercings gazes, as if they knew all of one's innermost thoughts and feelings.

"Mistress Woodpecker, on behalf of the American government, we suggest you agree with our terms, or else our hand will be forced." said the General, the American man's companion.

The green Avari glanced up at the indigo-feathered female standing beside her chair. "Well, then. I'm afraid your hand must be forced." she said quietly.

The Americans could do nothing but watch as the grey clad females got up and left the room silently.