she has never been one to form attachments. aside from her undying loyalty to her sisters and her unwavering sense of duty, relationships and attachments hold no meaning to atropos. they are, after all, nothing but distractions that she cannot afford in her line of work. nothing but frivolities which she has never needed to experience herself. in spite of this, the woman’s lips curve upward into a fond smile as she listens to odette speak. perhaps it is a twinge of familial affection; perhas it is the same amusement that colors all of her interactions with these fallen beings. she does not know for certain, nor does she care to find out just now.
“how is it so shocking?” a curious raise of brows accompanies her inquiry. “i consider people watching and speculating a refreshing change from my regular line of work.” a lie — it is an integral part of her duty to follow people and their lives, for they factor greatly into the end they will face. “based on my experience, i suspect you are more alone in your opinion than i.”
thenodette speaks again; and again, atropos smiles genuinely, a burst of laughter barely concealed behind it. how ironic it is that she is in the presence of one of the most unpleasant goddesses, yet her feelings are the most authentic they have been in a while. “it most definitely is not a pitch of any sorts.” atropos chuckles. “rest assured, nobody wishes to live in a world where i have to resort to selling my ideas rather than just making them a reality.”
“you need not purchase anything from me either, odette.” she continues, briefly glancing the couple who had unknowingly sparked this whole exchange. as they move away, so does atropos’ gaze which, yet again, returns to observe the older woman’s reactions ( no matter how large or minuscule ). “i am only here to say hello. it has, after all, been a while since the last time we saw each other.”
Odette’s nose wrinkles distastefully. There’s an unsettling weight in her chest, the heaviness of being seen, being known, and really -- who the hell was this girl to tell her she was alone. Anger simmers beneath her skin at being both read so easily and the simple boldness the stranger had in approaching her. And yet, where her anger might have have easily bubbled into her usually antagonistic tendencies, there’s an odd edge to the other woman’s laugh that prevents her blood from boiling.
“We’ve never met before -- how do you know my name?” The corners of her eyes wrinkle as she squints suspiciously, and though accusation laces her voice, Odette knows that she could be entirely wrong just as easily. The art dealer was quite aware of her pattern of meeting, then almost immediately forgetting, most of the people she met at those fancy parties; there was no reason to remember anyone but the most influential, after all. But that deeper, more intrinsic feeling of familiarity that had been washing over her so often was also present. It wasn’t as strong perhaps, as other times, but it frustrated her nonetheless, akin to the feeling of a word on the tip of her tongue.
Or perhaps, it’s simply an intimidation tactic. It’s not entirely unreasonable given the less savory aspects of her career. A scoff escapes the sharp line of her mouth. “Look, if someone sent you to me specifically, just spit it out. I’m not interested in games.”
