one shot, one kill
@fromspina
In a strange sort of way, storms had always been... comforting. Perhaps it was due to her affinity for Electro, but the swirling canvas of dark gray and occasional flashes of lightning would provide a sense of serenity that Clorinde had been unable to find elsewhere. The thunder's roar could easily function as a lullaby to send her into sleep; a highly uncharacteristic trait, considering the fact that the Duelist remained on high alert at all times. The slightest sound could wake her, hand already reaching for the pistol she kept carefully placed on her bedside table. That changed, though. The storm of fury evident in the depths of Navia's eyes had suddenly culled her love for that weather, and she had come to despise it-- a bitter reminder of the choices she grew to regret, wishing that she had never left Navia in the wake of Callas's death. Those sky blue eyes felt so foreign bearing such a negative emotion. They were meant to convey love and support for all those around her, and it wasn't right to see them clouded with.... A sharp intake of breath interrupted Clorinde's thoughts as a gloved hand clenched tightly into a fist, brows slanted downwards into the very beginning of a subtle scowl. The flood of memories from a darker time would do nothing to support her in her current endeavor: she had impulsively extended an invitation to the Spina's President in hopes of gaining an audience over a nice dinner at Hotel Debord. Impulsive... hah, another trait she'd never attribute to herself. It was funny how Navia always managed to bring all of these inconsistencies out in her. While it had sounded like a good idea in the moment, the horror of reality quickly set in. Clorinde spent a majority of her afternoon clambering about in an attempt to make herself presentable, rehearsing her words over and over in her mind in order to make sure that she successfully got her sentiments across-- in the end, it never sounded quite right... and the Duelist finally accepted the fact that she was going to make a fool of herself, no matter how long she spent preparing. Somehow, some way, this was turning out to be far stressful than any duel she'd participated in.
That's how she found herself here, seated at their reservation... alone. A glass of wine remained situated in front of her, completely untouched as her foot quietly tapped a disjointed beat against the carpet underneath her. The invitation had stated 7pm sharp, and the fact that Navia wasn't here yet twisted a knife into her gut... What if she had declined? What if she didn't want to come, what if she didn't want to talk to her...? Clorinde wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she changed her mind in the long run. After all, she had abandoned her when Navia needed her most. A blunder that was seared into the depths of her memory, and a burden she'd bear until her dying days. Fate had a strange way of inflicting unto yourself the pain you've given to others; Clorinde wondered if this was the atonement for her past transgressions. But, then again... Navia did always run late. Perhaps a spark of hope could stay, and her teeth dug into the inside of her cheek as violet eyes remained on the singular entrance into the restaurant.