her expression twists, caught in a limbo between a grimace & recalcitrant amusement, as if teetering on the edge of a blade — one honed to a razor’s edge, cutting as effortlessly through fabric as it would through marrow. his words flay with a precision she loathes, peeling back layers she’d rather keep stitched together. she detests the sensation of being picked apart, dissected beneath the keen scrutiny of those far too perceptive for her liking. the way they watch, how they listen — she can feel them prying, peeling, burrowing beneath her skin. a carcass left too long under a malicious sun, overripe & festering, waiting for scavengers to descend. she has spent years evading the talons of those who pick apart the weak, yet here she is, feeling the carrion birds circle, wings casting shadows over her ribcage where something cold & restless stirs.
she exhales sharply through her nose, the sound a quiet surrender to irritation, her brows knitting together in reproach. damn these crows & their discerning eyes. she should know better than to let her own kind get too close.
despite herself, a smile ghosts across her lips — thin, fleeting, but present. her gaze lingers on him, studying the way he moves through the kitchen with the same fluid grace as an assassin wielding his blade. precision, efficiency, control. it is an art she has never managed to master, no matter how many times she has tried. the delicate balance of heat & timing eludes her; the patience required grates against the very core of who she is. & so, she watches, not with envy, but with that distant sort of admiration reserved for things she knows she will never possess.
“ is that concern i hear ? ” she muses, voice laced with something between jocularity & challenge. “ careful, your reputation might take a hit. ”
she recalls teia’s teasing from before — how the idea of him possessing even the faintest trace of sentimentality had been met with mirth. if word ever got out about his so-called soft heart, she wonders how he would handle the fallout. not that she would be the one to spread such rumors. not out of trepidation, but because it simply did not interest her.
her eyes flick back to him, watching the subtle curve of his mouth, the ease in his movements. moments like these, however brief, were the only respite she allowed herself amid the turbulence of her existence. & so, she takes it.
with a lazy sort of grace, she pulls out a chair, only to seat herself on the armrest rather than the cushion, balancing with the casual nonchalance of someone who never quite allows herself to be comfortable. one elbow props against the chair’s back, her jaw resting against the heel of her palm.
“ welll, i can’t promise i wouldn’t botch a trade deal & saddle you with some god-awful, bitter swill, ” a remark as dry as an arid desert. “ but i’ll see what i can do. if i can track down a single man locked in a prison beneath the sea, i think finding a farmer shouldn’t be beyond my skill set. ”
lilac irises drift, their previous sharpness dimming into something distant as he sets about preparing coffee. her hand lowers, fingers wrapping loosely around her opposite wrist, an unconscious gesture of restraint.
“ fighting is simple, ” the words slip free with quiet certainty. “ there’s a right move & a wrong move. you strike, or you don’t. you live, or you don’t. out there, the choices make themselves. ” a sigh threads its way between her lips, her mouth twisting, as if shaping the next words requires more from her than she is willing to give.
“ but here ? ” a pause, her voice tapering into something quieter, something edged with an irresolution she despises. “ or anywhere that isn’t a battlefield — there’s no enemy to cut down, no singular path forward. just … decisions. ones that don’t come with the clarity of a blade in my hand. ”
she falters. the words catch in her throat before she clears it, inhaling sharply as if steeling herself against a slip in composure. then, a weak chuckle — a half-hearted attempt to shake off the tension. “ but choosing a farmer to spare your pockets ? that, i think i can manage. not the most outlandish request i’ve had. ” a beat. “ though, you should come with me. make sure it meets your standard. i have none. ”
