starfvllen.
“A little from some soldiers, a little by myself.” Some told her it was a gift from God, wasted on a girl who could never take to the battlefield, but Ippolita chose to ignore those voices. It was her own practice and sheer determination as it was anything else, the same motions over and over for years on end: how many starlings has she felled in manners far less elegant this this one?
She suspected he did not recognize her. That was just as well, with recent events surrounding her family, she had no desire to be recognized and have to deal with wan condolences and thin offerings of sorrow. The accent is mildly atrocious, as though the other were unused to syllables placed together in such a manner, perhaps not even used to speak much at all. Ah. Her mind vaguely files away the recognition, but she doesn’t care much for it. After all, Ippolita is certain that at the very least, she could put an arrow through his heart faster than he could put a sword through hers.
“I see no reason why you could not.” She shrugged lightly, bow returned to being strapped across her arrow quiver, “Shall we walk? I would rather not be scorched by the sun, and perhaps we can speak about our respective times in Switzerland.”
were soldiers different in her home? he could not imagine showing an aristocratic lady how to swing a sword when he was young. if he had shown sophia such a thing, he could not imagine how the tsar would have reacted.
nonetheless, she did not react to his name; she did not flinch from him. it was a relief he did not know he needed --- to be separate from legacy for an afternoon. the anger was exhausting, the continuous plotting more so. she was offering him this: a continued relief. and, he could admit, he was curious about the woman with the strange name who could shoot a moving target with such precision. was he not allowed his curiosities anymore?
( it took a moment of internal convincing to come to this. )
“i do not like to talk,” he finally answered, but he began to walk all the same, slow in his steps so that she might choose to walk with him. it was a strange day, a day where he felt the vibrancy of spring in his chest. away from the castle, he felt almost alive again. he did not know if it was good; he did not think it would be, as untrustworthy and fresh as it was. he paused for a moment. “ --- but you can, if you want.”
















