“Who are you?” //tracersrecall
{ @tracersrecall - Bring on the angst! - Accepting! }
Nine letters. Three syllables. Three words.
Restrained though the beating of Widow’s heart may have been, restricted as her emotions supposedly were, the way her face fell painted a very different portrait. It was clear she felt those three words, felt them as much as she had felt another locution of three simple words from the same woman’s lips in the past, only this time, instead of elation, she felt a deadened pang of excruciating agony deep within.
In that moment, she was never more thankful for what Talon had done to her.
The muscles of Widow’s face went slack, releasing their carefully constructed hold on her expression and leaving naught but shock in the wake of that very short sentence from Lena’s lips. Questions, arguments to the contrary, - because of course Lena knew who she was, how could she not -, all of it faded into the background as a ringing in her ears began and she simply… stared. She stared far longer than intended and when she finally found the vocabulary to speak aloud she discovered she hadn’t much breath left inside of her.
“My-… My name is W-” she began, but quickly thought the better of it and changed tactics, thinking that perhaps her true name would jar something in Lena’s mind. “My name is Amélie Lacroix. We are- that is to say, we were… friends.” The word felt false, as they had been far more than just friends in the past, and were far from friends in the present- but it was the easiest word to explain, to get across.
Though her face held the weight of the situation, eyebrows starting to furrow together and creases of anger and disappointment at the corners of her eyes, her voice remained steady and slightly detached. She should consider this a blessing- she should be lifting her rifle, taking aim, and firing, taking advantage of this newly found weakness. Instead, she found herself unable to move a muscle. Typical- she never could bring herself to kill Lena, when given the chance.
“Do you not remember?” It was a pointless question, one already answered by Lena’s complete lack of recognition and of course, those three disquieting words- but she felt the need to ask it aloud despite all of that. Despite the strange, sick feeling that was beginning to twist inside of her stomach and cause her mouth to dry.
