Arlecchino can only assume where their gazes meet, with his eyes obscured, and hers are hollow. A near-inaudible hum groans in her throat before she tilts her head up.
❝Mmm… So they have,❞ she starts, unconcerned with whether or not she is doing a decent job of feigning that news hadn’t already reached her, and dear Capitano was far too late in letting her know.
Many things that were true in her life were rare cases of fortunate miscalculation. The words preached at the orphanages had always been meant to instill a fierce loyalty to her─to her alone. Not to the Fatui, and not to the Tsaritsa─but she could not have predicted how far they would go, without orders. Without permission.
How they could be so blinded to future consequence. To not be at least ten steps ahead…
The actions committed were… A gross miscalculation.
A deep exhale later, her gaze falls, becoming fixed on her knuckles.
❝How unfortunate… For them. I suppose I made the mistake of thinking some of my children were long-past needing reminders of where their place is.❞ She ponders out loud, her stare flickering back to Capitano in that instant. ❝Efim will be dealt with.❞ Arlecchino says, far more firmly this time.
Efim. Gods-forsaken Efim. How he could be so foolish as to overlook the many risks that his operation implied is beyond her, truly.
The Tsaritsa’s goal being put at risk is, regrettably, not her main concern. Rather, it is her own reputation in the eyes of no one other than her children. Frankly, anyone else’s opinion of her is irrelevant. For Efim to have so callously caused civil unrest like that, is… Overzealous of him. Arrogant. The gall.
❝Indulge me, Capitano. Just for a moment. If you were in my shoes… What would you presume is the ambition behind such a… Clusterfuck that was my Efim’s plan?❞ The sound of his name sounds venomous on her tongue, and per the usual Arlecchino’s expression is perfectly blank. Perfectly unreadable.
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