idk if you're looking to be given prompts from that list of not, but if so 17 (assuming it's a typo that's supposed to be 'glass' not 'grass'). (you know who for.)
If I reblog prompts, I'm alwaaays looking
Emily understands frustration and weakness. If she had the skills she acquired later in life, she could have done so much more. Her mother, a successful escape from the Golden Cat. But some things aren't meant to be, and she accepted that a long time ago.
Corvo had been a great teacher, patient and kind and always pushing her to do better.
Emily is not a good teacher. Impatient and always working a smile when her student slips or wavers or trips over himself. They're playing a game, almost childish. Probably because she did play it as a child.
She stands on a roof, facing the city at night. Low, flickering lights and voices of the people still roaming the streets meet her. Somewhere behind her, a young man unused to his own body attempts hiding in shadows and keeping his boots from scraping the ground too loudly. He's unsuccessful. Or maybe she's just too good, too trained to be on the lookout. Too aware that he's going to sneak up on her.
She can tell that this attempt isn't going to be any better than the last forty or so.
She holds her arms close to her body, jacket pulling taut across the back, hands on her elbows. She stands straight and still, as perfect as a statue.
He breathes too loud. She hears the short pants of someone far too out of shape. Such a poor boy. He's at her left, and he's managed to keep his feet from scraping the broken rubble of the roof.
Something shatters the almost-silence that's enveloped them. Glass explodes, close enough that a small shard slides across her leg and there's an uncomfortable sting that stuns her nerves. In that brief second, it's all he needs to come up on her right. One arm wraps around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. The other holds a knife, dull and useless because he can't be trusted with sharp just yet.
"Empress," he greets, tone smug and so like his godly self that she rolls her eyes.
"Any closer, and the glass could have made a worse impact," she lectures.
His cheek is against hers as he looks over her shoulder. "How else would I have been able to win?"
A fair point. He wouldn't have.
She turns her head, just a fraction, teeth scraping his bare jaw. "You're learning."
Green eyes meet her gaze, bright and eager. "Praise?"
"I acknowledge ingenuity when I have to."
And it's as close as she can get now to something that's more, something deeper. She turns in his embrace, her chest against his now. His breath catches, and it's just so funny how easily the human parts of him are distracted by her. All he is is human parts.
"It's something you always look for," she points out, voice low, almost a purr.
Her gaze dips to his lips, the curve of his thin mouth, and his fingers dig into her hips. He leans closer, nose bumping hers.
And she dances away from him just as easily. "We're not done. Come on.
