[Her eyes narrow a fraction at the sound of his laughter - it was unexpected. It doesn't strike as true as the cut in Dismas, but it unsettles her. She watches him for a moment longer, silent. Counts down until she's sure her voice will betray.]
No.
[Why no? Why so quickly? And why so amusing? Did he think she planned to tell Priscilla? She would not have. Could have been done in the Mist. Didn't need to be spoken of again. Like it doesn't now - because it's off the table. Completely. She sees as much in his gaze, all calculation and ice. Is it amusing solely on the grounds of refusal (she wouldn't put it past him) or is he truly unwilling to---
No.
There's a barely perceptible wince at that line of thinking - which she allows to go no further. (If not out of love for Priscilla or any respect for semihuman life) What could his reasoning be but his own selfish motives? Did she figure into them somehow?
His presence in the room is like a snowstorm all over again. Too cold and too much and good god the sickness in her heart as she nods.]
I see. It must be enough, then.
[Eyes flickering over his sword, schooling her features back into line(face) :l]
[ His sword is unsheathed in one fluid and smooth motion, the shhhing of metal sliding out of the scabbard an echo that is too late, its shadow trailing through the air a helpless blur behind it. The tip of the unmarked and polished blade points toward Irene; it hangs suspended and unwavering in the air, unnaturally still. ]
[ The space that exists between them seems suddenly (and impossibly) smaller due to this, even despite neither of them having moved an inch from where they stand. ]
Now, that is a much better question.
[ Far better than speaking of promises that will never be honored. ]
Perhaps this time we will not need to end our match prematurely, either. Which reminds me--
--How is that wound of yours, Irene...?
that is some complicated stuff in that subject line. AMAZING :o
[Her eyes flicker to her shoulder the once, returning to his in an even, almost amicable gaze.]
It is no longer worth considering. The circumstances under which you landed it, however...
[She allows a smile to touch her lips. It is not a smile of amusement, but a recollection of her own foolishness. Her own blade is drawn before the storm of that recollection clouds her eyes.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
^_^
No.
[Why no? Why so quickly? And why so amusing? Did he think she planned to tell Priscilla? She would not have. Could have been done in the Mist. Didn't need to be spoken of again. Like it doesn't now - because it's off the table. Completely. She sees as much in his gaze, all calculation and ice. Is it amusing solely on the grounds of refusal (she wouldn't put it past him) or is he truly unwilling to---
No.
There's a barely perceptible wince at that line of thinking - which she allows to go no further. (If not out of love for Priscilla or any respect for semihuman life) What could his reasoning be but his own selfish motives? Did she figure into them somehow?
His presence in the room is like a snowstorm all over again. Too cold and too much and good god the sickness in her heart as she nods.]
I see. It must be enough, then.
[Eyes flickering over his sword, schooling her features back into line(face) :l]
When do we fight next?
(/-_・)/D・・・・・------ → (;/゜o゜)/ ｻﾞｸ!
[ The space that exists between them seems suddenly (and impossibly) smaller due to this, even despite neither of them having moved an inch from where they stand. ]
Now, that is a much better question.
[ Far better than speaking of promises that will never be honored. ]
Perhaps this time we will not need to end our match prematurely, either. Which reminds me--
--How is that wound of yours, Irene...?
that is some complicated stuff in that subject line. AMAZING :o
It is no longer worth considering. The circumstances under which you landed it, however...
[She allows a smile to touch her lips. It is not a smile of amusement, but a recollection of her own foolishness. Her own blade is drawn before the storm of that recollection clouds her eyes.]