"...We'll see," Forty-Four says wryly. This lass reminds her of Peters, a little; less acidic, less vulgar - not that she has any room to talk - but sharing a fundamental caution and reserve hidden behind a cloak of pretty words.
It's odd. Peters had been involved with someone not like her at all.
(She's wrong about that too, but, then, Forty-Four has never been great at admitting when the people she likes are flawed.)
"We'll both need to speak our true names for this one," she says after a long, uncomfortable moment. "You'll be keeping mine to your fuckin' self."
She clears her throat...
And the world stops to listen. The air seems heavy, and charged not with static but with interest. The sunlight slanting through the windows moves just that bit closer, to highlight the two of them, playing off of Forty-Four's offered right hand; the birds stop singing, the wind holds its breath as the living world bends its attention on Cassandra and her odd little guest.
Forty-Four's voice is clear and formal, brooking no room for misunderstanding or mispronunciation. "Peace, then, peace between us. On the name of Victoria Ingrid Reeds, I unclench my fist and offer an empty, peaceful hand, for a year and a day. Let she who betrays our peace suffer the fury of the wronged; enter into this pact truthfully, or not at all."
That hand hangs in the air, in the spotlight of the living world, waiting for Cassandra to take it, and to offer her name.
no subject
It's odd. Peters had been involved with someone not like her at all.
(She's wrong about that too, but, then, Forty-Four has never been great at admitting when the people she likes are flawed.)
"We'll both need to speak our true names for this one," she says after a long, uncomfortable moment. "You'll be keeping mine to your fuckin' self."
She clears her throat...
And the world stops to listen. The air seems heavy, and charged not with static but with interest. The sunlight slanting through the windows moves just that bit closer, to highlight the two of them, playing off of Forty-Four's offered right hand; the birds stop singing, the wind holds its breath as the living world bends its attention on Cassandra and her odd little guest.
Forty-Four's voice is clear and formal, brooking no room for misunderstanding or mispronunciation. "Peace, then, peace between us. On the name of Victoria Ingrid Reeds, I unclench my fist and offer an empty, peaceful hand, for a year and a day. Let she who betrays our peace suffer the fury of the wronged; enter into this pact truthfully, or not at all."
That hand hangs in the air, in the spotlight of the living world, waiting for Cassandra to take it, and to offer her name.