[ Oh but he is making it so very easy to be fond of him. She knows to be wary of such at thing. But for a little, she can be soft, she can be measured, she can pretend her spine knows how to curl about his gestures and his warmth as if such a thing came easy to her.
She can take the blade he offers to her, in his attempt at royal supplication that only makes her heart tug more. Gives it the same measure he tries to give her. No mocking or laughter just that she steps up, her fingers curl around the hilt of the blade and for a moment, she's herself again, she is whole again. A deep breath in, testing its weight. The Barrayaran's favoured a quicker style of weapon and Maine clearly had no eye for it, no more than this man did.
Slow - and despite the pain, the aches, the thud of her encroaching death - then she's quick, as she draws it up and out. A swinging arch high above her head, stretching up and out - no, not the blades she is used to, either. But it comes naturally to her. The way she curls it out and above her head, her eyes upon it like there is her and it and this room, him, her troubles and her pain, are all forgotten. Side stepping, the skirts don't bother her or get in her way as she pivots on the ball of her foot to slide into a swordman's stance and the blade comes down. Slashing wide at the air, back around in a loop as one strike slides into the next and into the next. A patterned dance that relaxes her, draws her into herself as a whole once more where the Cetagandans had scattered her into pieces on that cell for. Like her secrets weren't given out like sweets for them to digest upon on celebration days. Testing the blade, testing how it moves in her palm find herself in an extension of it. Until she's turned away from him, breathing hard.
Because he isn't forgotten, she will never forget him, now. She spins, sharp, back to him, another slash, coming to stop short in front of his face and the threat there - is far too obvious. The hard-eyed look she gives him that tells him he probably shouldn't have given her this blade.
He shouldn't have let her have this chance. She wasn't going to let him take back his mistake until she was done. ]
I should kill you, you do know that, don't you? You and your other man both. For threatening Maine, for getting me captured, for standing in on my interrogation.
no subject
She can take the blade he offers to her, in his attempt at royal supplication that only makes her heart tug more. Gives it the same measure he tries to give her. No mocking or laughter just that she steps up, her fingers curl around the hilt of the blade and for a moment, she's herself again, she is whole again. A deep breath in, testing its weight. The Barrayaran's favoured a quicker style of weapon and Maine clearly had no eye for it, no more than this man did.
Slow - and despite the pain, the aches, the thud of her encroaching death - then she's quick, as she draws it up and out. A swinging arch high above her head, stretching up and out - no, not the blades she is used to, either. But it comes naturally to her. The way she curls it out and above her head, her eyes upon it like there is her and it and this room, him, her troubles and her pain, are all forgotten. Side stepping, the skirts don't bother her or get in her way as she pivots on the ball of her foot to slide into a swordman's stance and the blade comes down. Slashing wide at the air, back around in a loop as one strike slides into the next and into the next. A patterned dance that relaxes her, draws her into herself as a whole once more where the Cetagandans had scattered her into pieces on that cell for. Like her secrets weren't given out like sweets for them to digest upon on celebration days. Testing the blade, testing how it moves in her palm find herself in an extension of it. Until she's turned away from him, breathing hard.
Because he isn't forgotten, she will never forget him, now. She spins, sharp, back to him, another slash, coming to stop short in front of his face and the threat there - is far too obvious. The hard-eyed look she gives him that tells him he probably shouldn't have given her this blade.
He shouldn't have let her have this chance. She wasn't going to let him take back his mistake until she was done. ]
I should kill you, you do know that, don't you? You and your other man both. For threatening Maine, for getting me captured, for standing in on my interrogation.