[oom] A cellar

[vojvode]

His eyes open in the darkness, listening.  There's a woman's voice, singing.

"Elizabeta?" 

No. 

No, she is gone.  Lost to him, for all eternity. 

No it is someone else.

Rae.

He can hear her humming as she works, even from such a great distance.  It draws him up from the earth, draws him out of torpor and towards the light.  He is a moth to her flame.   She calls and he answers.   It should be as simple as breathing, as night following day, but no.  He knows better.

Still, he moves, seeking her in the darkness.

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[vojvode]

Again he looks up at her, that same unholy fire burning in his eyes. He does not cease his restless pacing, almost as if he is keeping the counter between them.

"That would suit your calling, wouldn't it?" There is a hint of a sneer in his voice, but she might recognise it for the truth, the snarl of a cornered and wounded animal.

"You would leave, and I would wait. And you would come back with the constabulary, believing me weak." Her thoughts feel the dark shadow of his mind like a storm cloud passing in front of the sun.

[sunbaked_baker]

Uneasy as she is in his presence, Rae has to stop herself from grinding her teeth at his sneer. The dark shadow of his mind takes the smile from her face, her look darkening.

"My calling is giving people food," she says, short.

"Do you really think I'd go on the pretext of getting you sustenance, and bring back Security? Or are you just saying that?" Just saying it because he hurts and feels the need to cause others pain in turn. She knows that feeling. She's on intimate terms with that feeling. "Because I don't like the insinuation that you're making." So soon after she was feeling sorry for him.

"If I brought 'the constabulary' to you at all, it'd be because I figure you could use a square meal, not because I'm selling you out." And like hell is she so delusional as to think him weak.

Just confusing and terrifying and sometimes bloody infuriating.

[vojvode]

She is magnificent in her defiance, and he wants so much just to reach out with his mind and bend her to his will. She could be his, fawning on her knees before him, just another lamb for the slaughter. He could have her, body and soul, and just be done with it. There is another long silence as he gazes at her, envisioning this very possibility.





Eventually, the predatory look fades. That is not what he wants.




"Give me your word."

[sunbaked_baker]

"You have my word," she says, meeting his gaze and not looking away.

Forgive her if she'd rather not have to sign in blood, thanks.

[vojvode]

He revels in the directness of her gaze, drawing himself up to his full height. His chin dips in a stately gesture, a concession of a sort.

"Go then. I shall be here when you return."

Like some sort of tamed beast, waiting for his mistress. Bound again by the rules of hospitality. Pathetic.