by Io Ono » Wed Apr 15, 2020 4:12 am
She chased the ghosts of her imagination for another lingering moment before returning to the shared reality. Her own, however, was growing distorted and paranoid. This...was starting to feel like a test. A test of loyalty. Her gaze would flash to Gloria. A test of identity. Then back to the man. Two tests, one of which she was bound to fail. Her mind sorted the infinite possibilities in the brief instant it was allotted.
She could explain away loyalty, to make her understand the importance of her silence, to tell her verbatim what she would say in the next moment and why. She could earn trust back through deeds both menial and desperate. She could beg forgiveness. They may work, or not, but the odds existed. On the other hand, if she gave him what he wanted, an answer, any answer, there would be no odds. No leverage, no safety, no distance, nothing could protect her from being any more than what she was now, assuming he would allow even that much. Sure, she knew what one could do with naught more than a name and a face, two things she’d already surrendered, but those had safeguards, those had masks.
No, there was but one choice.
There was not a place for wishes here, least of all hers, is what she would have said if she walked a proper path and had little to lose. Neither of those was true however, so she stayed silent, and steeled her mind. There was plenty wrong with speaking to him, three reasons coming to mind immediately. She was plenty discomforted, and she knew a bad idea from a long way off. Righteousness scared her little. Many were so until fear took them. Or money...or whatever their tastes were. Unfortunately however, these tests were polar opposites, and she was going to fail one. So be it. If she was to fail, it would be on her terms, then.
Once again, putting aside the slab, and the quill, and the round jar of ink, she rose to her feet, her eye staring in to the eyes of the righteous man before her. She seemed to see beyond, almost as if she was staring through him, to the wall beyond. Her gaze was hollow, like a purposeless golem.
If he would not flinch, she would approach, with the silence allotted a wraith, not just toward him, but directly into his space. She would lean into him, a warning to keep still. She may have been a pawn, but with the right play, those could threaten as well. Her right hand, just the fingertips really, would rest on his sternum, a quiet, yet strong suggestion not to move. She knew he would not attack her here, not now. It was perhaps the only advantage she had. Still, she was the cautious sort, and out of his sight, her left hand would rest near her thigh, as if to keep her balance, or as if she’d hidden some manner of safeguard there. It was a hint of a motion, designed to not draw attention. Of course, even if it did, Yates, was it..? Yes, he would not own to watching the thighs of a child.
Short as he was, the good Ser Glenn, she was still a bit shorter, and would rise to her toes, as she rested her weight, what little she had, on him, her pale lips rising to meet his ear. She was warm, save the patches of exposed skin about her shoulders and arms, and carried the scent of something she’d eaten earlier, honey perhaps? She almost didn’t seem to breathe as she leaned against him, sharing his space, and almost daring him to act. It was probably because she didn’t. In truth, she was no better than a bundle of nerves at this gambit, knowing what could be lost in the exchange. Perhaps it was the product of overthought, but he was too intelligent to assume otherwise. Still, it was... perhaps a bit too intimate and far too assertive for a child, but, it wasn’t as though assertive children didn’t exist at all. There were a few proofs residing on her back and shoulders to attest to that.
She would offer him the same kindness he offered her, a gentle warning of which all deserved, albeit in her own twisted way. She would give him no tone of her voice, however. No, she would allow only a whisper none but he would hear.
“I know not the contents of the vial, good Ser. I suspect that he may, and if he wishes not a taste, then Marion believes he should answer Miss Gloria’s questions. Short and true are best.” It was breathless, yet, purposeful, and as much as she could muster, dripping with feigned innocence. She would peel herself from him, using his sternum for a gentle leverage, and back away a pace or two, allowing her hands to clasp humbly behind her waist. She would offer another shallow nod, again, just enough to acknowledge, but not enough to alter her gaze. She could have offered her own threat, but wouldn’t, not here, not now. She knew better than to give herself away so easily.
Of course, there was the possibility that he would indeed flinch, and if he did, she would simply halt, halfway through the room and offer a brief, subtle smile of her own. She would be satisfied with no words at all. She would seemingly retain her advantage of silence, and maybe even gain one of intimidation. He would hopefully catch the hint, and perhaps leave her to her chore. Sure, he would suspect she was no scribe, and probably already did, but at least on the surface, she would remain just a strange child, and perhaps may live a bit longer.
Either way, she would ultimately spin about, and return to the darkened corner for her tools. Rather than just sit, however, she instead carried them to the side of one Gloria, and took her seat, her half-kneel-and-resting-on-her-ankles posture, in the narrow space left in the doorframe. She would answer her own questions later, she surmised, yet, for her, still, that was the easier choice.