if lynette found more difficulty in this prompt than she had her last two, she does not express as much, but a poker face like lynette's is steely enough as it is.
you are watching a painter paint a portrait of your friend. that much is fine. lynette stands before the two people in front of her, one being lady furina herself—no pressure or anything, right?—while lynette strikes a contemplative pose, the one she uses to discourage chatty strangers in public for how deep in thought it makes her look.
the painter is doing an absolutely miserable job. miserable is a bit mean, but it sounds about right.
it’s so hard not to laugh. and this is where her role gets dicey. laughter is not something she would imagine herself doing in any situation with lady furina, but moreover, they ask her to do the opposite of everything she's been conditioned to know.
but you’re trying not to distract your friend—if they start moving, the portrait will be even more ruined. it's already beyond salvation, but lynette doesn't get to say that aloud. all that's left is to do her best, really.
the gloved hand at her chin stirs, moving over her mouth instead. she clears her throat once, twice.
"it's looking... good," she remarks, as unconvincingly as possible.
prompt : you are sitting for a portrait being painted of you, wondering why your friend is making a bunch of weird faces. are they trying to distract you?
AND FROM THE JAWS OF THE LION, she leaps into flame. this one's name is. . . lyney is her brother, yes, lynette. the twin never at the forefront of such indispellable shows of magic, rather powering the engine behind it, her brother's trusted assistant and partner.
she has never interfaced with her directly, nor seen her much off stage.
she supposes the same could be said for the other.
how easy it must have been, then, to agree to playing a hand in her grandest magic to date——that of deceiving and luring her own sovereign. it is far easier to tear down an image of something than a person, so what is the image she had seen? like much of fontaine, perhaps: a flagrant idol ; a burlesque that could not be permitted to go on? none of them knew ; she could not blame them. and yet——and yet.
regardless, it is a disservice in this moment to think of the other only in the ripples she'd made of the past. and furina is, after all, only this epoch's finest actress ; blue-altered blues that flick to the other girl's face betray nothing of these misgivings, vibrant wells only curiosity. in truth, she has sat for enough portraits, seen enough twists and turns of the face to suspect what this prompt is suggesting. but her character has not.⠀(⠀and lynette's " weird faces " are not so weird, nor such exaggerated faces regardless.⠀)
in half exasperation, half tease, she finally sighs heftily, making sure not to let it move her own face so much ; this is already well-practiced.
"if you need to use a restroom, please do so. you are starting to make me uncomfortable."
