It’s a cruel joke, Océane is very much aware of that. It’s why she’s playing it to begin with. She’d been left quite furious, after their last encounter, after he had so casually walked off. She could have gone after him but she had decided against thatm alone because she was impressed with the whole show of the match he given her. Imagine her delight when she had discovered that Israel had in fact been returned to the Chateau.
Israel wasn’t wrong in his assumptions about her, why blow out candles if you could snuff out lives... she had requested him out of the chateau, had played with the idea to take him back to the beach, to watch him die once, twice, three times—- but why not mix it up a little. Why not have him drown in her pool instead?
She is waiting outside, where she had instructed her staff to bring him upon his arrival, an asortment of colourful and positively humiliating floaties laying scattered beside her. It’s a cruel thing, to give someone hope, while knowing that they would fail in the end. She’d teach him how to swim, just to watch him drown. Let him believe that he could swim back to surface, and then enjoy the panic when he realizes he can’t.
The sliding door opens and Océane turns to watch her staff escort him outside. “ Good afternoon Israel, ” she hums, a smile curling along her lips. // @israelskelton