Lilith gave a brief and tight smile at his little joke…forcing herself to accept the irritating humour with the…patient grace she imagine a schoolmarm of a witch would have. She made as if to hesitate when he offered a seat, her eyes flickering towards the door, as if she had some…great desire to return to the quiet of her home, the solitude that Mary Wardwell clearly lived in.
And then she sighed, smiled the…smallest of smiles, before moving forward and slipping into the seat beside the warlock.
“It was a long time ago,” She explained, “When I was much younger…younger than you. Young and…hopeful. Naive. I imagine you remember how it was when…everything is new and exciting, when those who…rule above you seem so wise and….otherworldly. You think the world is yours to enjoy, that you can’t imagine there anything waiting for you but…freedom and indulgence, perhaps even love,” She added with a self-effacing smile.
“ Hmmm... “ Ambrose took a moment to think to himself. He wasn’t sure he shared the same experience ( he did, he just wouldn’t admit it ). He’d always been a troublemaker, going against the grain of authority. Sure there had been people who acted as catalysts for that rebellion, who supported him, ( or so he thought... ) but he had learned his lesson now in his lonesome third quarters of a century trapped in this house.
The lesson wasn’t that authority was good or the powers that be must be respected, no, that lesson was that power was inescapable !
The reason he breathed today was because there was someone, somewhere, who allowed him to. It wasn’t always the same person throughout the years but there was always someone.
Everyone had a master. From what it was starting to sound like, this witch did too but she made the mistake of having hope in that master, trust... love ! He rested his cheek in the palm of his hand, leaning forward because he was already interested. She had him hooked.
“ Go on ? “
