Hadrian: (talking about mc) they're like an angel with no wings
Hadrian's eyes narrow. "Wings aren't all that makes an angel."
Alessa watches him for a moment. "Indeed," she says at last, lowering her chin as if in apology. "How could one forget the self-righteousness too?"
"You-" Hadrian shakes his head and looks away from her, his voice coming out in a hush next. "Lord, Alessa, you're difficult to deal with, do you know that?"
She quirks a lip, but no eyes can see it. The inn is almost deserted, the embers on the fireplace burn low, and the fool stares a hole through the wall. It is so easy to distress him. "I apologize," she says, not meaning it one bit. Hadrian shoots her a glare through the corner of his eyes, and Alessa can't help but grin wider. "You were attempting to speak of your admiration for our shared companion. Do go on."
His glare only deepens. "Oh, yes, because you've been so receptive," he says, tone trying to be sharp, but the faint blush on his cheeks ruins it completely. The fool looks down, then, staring at his hands as they turn the mug aimlessly between his fingers. "I... I only meant that-"
Silence falls. And she sighs. "I know," Alessa says, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when he looks up at her with expectant eyes. Will she be made to suffer this for the entirety of their mission? "Your meaning was quite clear, as insufficient as the delivery might have been. And I know not of angels, but I do know you."
Alessa gets to her feet, quickly adjusting the knives on her belt. The night is fresh, and she must go to bed. "Do not put anyone on a pedestal, Hadrian. 'Tis far more dangerous than those self-righteous saints you so like to cherish."
And she turns her back before his mouth can snap close, losing herself in the shadows. The staircase is quiet too, as are the halls beyond. Alessa really doesn't care about angels, but as she passes your door, she cannot help but wonder the true meaning of the word.
turnnoffyourmind
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