Date: 2016-11-19 11:46 pm (UTC)
shri: (» now we've become the ghost)
From: [personal profile] shri
Bad habits - she always talked like she expected to be listened to, without pause and consideration for other's feelings. Used to just swallowing most of it when it's back at her, and that was the price of ruling and then the time afterwards. No one said being immortal made them considerate, made them wise or all knowing, that was definitely the greatest of the myth because it made them nothing but human if but older and more bitter. Her encounters with Galahad had said as much of where she might end up, given enough time.

Seems she'd become just that too.

But it still hits low, breathing out, it hadn't been her intention to drag up something painful in her stories. "I meant only that we drank more often because of the issues with water - that perhaps we could do something the same." Her mouth opens, shuts - it doesn't matter what she meant, did it? She stands, dropping her jewellery into the water she'd been using for cleaning. "I will speak to her. I never intended..." Moves like she's ready to move past him to her.

Date: 2016-11-20 12:50 am (UTC)
shri: (» we will never be bought or sold)
From: [personal profile] shri
Her glance is anxious to it - casting her eyes back to her, then back to Daryl, later, she's maybe thinking. She can give something in apology. About learning to live with these things.

Easy as anything, she rises to the bait, "it's not about being lit." The word is far too proper and wrong coming out of her mouth and done to be mocking. Because it's a joke at this point, something Carl and anyone younger than her - read: just about all of them - like to make her do and say. Force her to say words she doesn't understand.

"Unless you think you can't handle your liquor to stave off, oh, I don't know, dysentery. Because I can assure you that's not a romantic tale."

Date: 2016-11-20 04:03 am (UTC)
shri: (» people talk to me)
From: [personal profile] shri
Her eyes roll, huffing down at him where he gets himself comfortable on the ground. Realising how quickly he's gotten her off track and that's - she really isn't sure about that. He does it too well, gets her all sharp and distracted where usually she can keep her head. Because as he does, backing down from her even in the same space that he got her worked up, she's just that - distracted from what she'd done.

"Nothing I can't handle." Bites back like he's a small dog she'll just pick up by the scruff of his neck and put him back in his box. Just like he did with her now.

Date: 2016-11-20 10:03 pm (UTC)
shri: (» we are the hearts)
From: [personal profile] shri
True to form, she is just that with his offer: wary. Her hand taps by her leg, her head tilts as she watches him before she moves. The bite on the inside of her lip that's consideration as she moves her weight on her feet. Then she settles her shoulders, turns back to what she had been in the process of cleaning and comes back to him. It's quick, in its way, she's nothing if not direct, sometimes.

She drops herself by his side, the bowl of water in front of her, somewhat mollified with his offer of distraction. The brush of her knee to the outside of his leg as she gets herself settled, her head dipping back down over her work, the small scouring brush to work free the grim and blood from the links in the chain. She takes more care over this then she does over herself.

"I'll come with you, should you wish it." Automatic offer that comes forward without even looking. She's better when she's moving, she always has been and she hates to let other people go alone, no matter what she may pretend.

Date: 2016-11-20 10:26 pm (UTC)
shri: (» we go together)
From: [personal profile] shri
It's - well that's a compliment if it's shrouded, isn't it? "Ah," and she peers harder at her work, direct little scrubbing motions on the metal, occupying herself in it rather than meeting his eye where she's aware of it on her.

He sees too much, he always does, whether anyone else ever notices that he is - but a lifetime of being watched in courtly matters, then being hunted, makes her keen on it. Fine, when she's doing the watching, makes her drop her own gaze when it's back at her. Which quite probably, is just a little hypocritical, all the looking she does and how much she never holds her tongue about it.

His second point though, that makes her scrunch her face up. Oh, no, no, no, no. She can see exactly where that's going.

"Well, you would know better than I the kinds of buildings available now, and their construction." Just hang onto that first point and roll with it. "Between the two of us, we can find something... suitable, I am sure."

Date: 2016-11-20 10:38 pm (UTC)
shri: (» forever singing)
From: [personal profile] shri
Damn it all if he's making it hard for her to be obtuse. She picks another link with another bit of hard stuck grime and mud and blood to continues scrubbing at it fixedly.

"It is rather a hallmark of civilisation, I'd wager." Clears her throat, pointedly. "I am sure Rick will consider it carefully."

Her head dips lower, where was the ground to swallow her up? Perhaps if she willed it hard enough, Shiva or Devi would take pity on her and drag her under before she got stuck.

Date: 2016-11-20 10:54 pm (UTC)
shri: (» now they whisper it)
From: [personal profile] shri
Her teeth fit on the inside of her lip, worrying against it in thought. A nervous habit from girlhood. Thinking over what he's saying. Or rather, that she isn't exactly sure.

"How novel, I've never voted before." It's flat, curter than she means, but said and that's that.

Then, at last, she straightens up, her fingers curling up sharp and around the gold in her hand, letting it dig into hands that were never soft. Taking assurance in the bite against her skin. He's - closer than she expected when she pulls up to meet his face, not shying from it, rather she lowers her voice in proximity. A hiss that peels back from her teeth, a swallow that sits heavy in her throat in the firelight, whispered between them. "Out with it then, whatever it is you've been asked to say to me." Flatly accusing, perhaps, she doesn't like being coerced like that.

Date: 2016-11-20 11:20 pm (UTC)
shri: (» we are dancing through the smoke)
From: [personal profile] shri
Oh but that stings. He couldn't hit her any lower and she wants to hit him in return, maybe less than metaphorically. It's clear on her face before she smothers it down, twitching like a live wire, an exposed nerve like he'd bared it under a blade. Hurt, bitter, angry, and she snaps back to the metal in her hand, knuckles turning white around it like she might just anyway.

Because she's trying to think of something to say. Something sharp and half as mean as she wants it to be. To tell them they're all fools, all idiots. She's a Queen of a dead kingdom. What hope can she give them? What on earth can she do for them that she didn't already do for her own people, a long time ago, only to watch them burn?

It wells hot, and angry and bitter in her throat, stings in her eyes, the choking on smoke that she's tasted for years that she had to devour in order to avenge them as they screamed and were slaughtered down to the last child. Her people, her people, her people and she's lying to herself, she knows, if she doesn't already think of this group as just the same. Hers to care for, to do everything she could for. Like she's spent every hundred years since then trying to do what she couldn't to start with.

She can't, she can't, she can't.

Galahad, Tesla, Devi, the men and women of Jhansi, her little boy in her arms, her impoverished of Whitechapel and the soldiers at Normandy. All hers, all looking to her, all dead - and she cannot -

The breath she pulls into herself is wet and sobering. "No. I will not."
Edited Date: 2016-11-21 12:15 am (UTC)

Date: 2016-11-21 02:02 am (UTC)
shri: (» are too vicious to tell)
From: [personal profile] shri
Like always, she shuts it down where her life - who she had been before in its reality is not what she ever offers up. Battle stories of warriors in gleaming metal and raised swords is one thing.

Slaughter is another.

"It's not for discussion." She's shifting, getting ready to stand up. "Wake me when it's time to go. I am going to rest before we leave." She doesn't really need to sleep, the blackwater will do most often, and she takes longer shifts at the worst hours because of it.

Date: 2016-11-21 03:09 am (UTC)
shri: (» we said our dreams will carry us)
From: [personal profile] shri
It's half-hearted when she wakes - startled from her at best cat nap when he drops the bag on her face. But she kicks out, not hard meant, just swings at his legs as if she means to knock his legs out from underneath him in a belated 'good morning to you, too.'

Struggles up, sitting there with a yawn as she stretches, letting her back pop into place after sleeping on the ground. "Are we riding? Or walking?"

Date: 2016-11-21 05:20 am (UTC)
shri: (» they used to shout my name)
From: [personal profile] shri
"Sedan - we have a sedan -" A frown, who on earth had a sedan chair? Who on earth would carry them around?

A second where she's groggy waking up and then she blanches as she catches up with the rest of his sentence. "Oh, an automobile... of course." Clears her throat, clearing the sleep out of her system, as she straightens. "I am perfectly capable of driving if you would prefer that." Up onto her nose, then onto her feet as she takes out her hair from the night before, tugging it loose so she can run her fingers through it.

Date: 2016-11-21 06:21 am (UTC)
shri: (» tragically we fall like the arrows)
From: [personal profile] shri
She sniffs all insulted dignity as she gathers up her gear. Which is numerous so far as she had too many weapons: the sword, the long knife, the pistol and the rifle. But what was super-human strength if she didn't use it? A few minutes to arm herself, tie her hair back up, wash her face and hands. Not the best morning person in the world, but at least it's done quickly with military efficiency.

When she finally gets into the car with him. It's some light dig back at him as she settles herself into the seat - and she still sits proper like she's riding her, haha, high horse. "I am a perfectly acceptable driver, I have plenty of experience."
Edited Date: 2016-11-21 09:51 am (UTC)

Date: 2016-11-21 10:59 pm (UTC)
shri: (» another roadblock in our way)
From: [personal profile] shri
Like ever, it takes a minute for her to get comfortable. Her back settling against the seat, - it's still not as good as riding, even riding when he was behind her. Taller than her, so it was comfortable so far as close space went.

Not that she would be telling him that anytime soon. Rather, for the time being, she settles, trying to make comfortable. "No," her voice is desert dry sarcasm, slow. "Elephants." Her arm settling against the armrest, fingers against the handle, tapping a slow line. Falls into silence, watching the street go by, looking over the houses. This country is poor for the choices she prefers in defensive positions. Settled in a time after land wars of that kind. Too many windows, too much wasted glass and not enough stone. Brick, perhaps, she would look for that, as her eyes dart from tree to tree on the side of the road. Two stories would be preferable.

Silence, that lapses until, with a cleared throat and a glance back to him she offers, quietly: "Singing," says it once, then licks her lips. Pushing herself through it. "When we were talking last night, about what we do when we are - 'lit'. I like to sing." It's a peace offering, as bare as she can manage for shutting him down. Offering something - human of herself. "Not well, mind you, but the first time I drank too much at a banquet as a child, I thought I was worthy to sing to the God Krishna himself..."

She's fiddling with it, the material of the scarf around her head, the gold threads that her free hand runs over.
Edited Date: 2016-11-21 11:00 pm (UTC)

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