l i g h t e n i n g s t r i k e

there is something in the way she looks at him— as her gaze travels up and down his form  ;  he guesses it won’t be all bad being in human form, especially if he holds the interest of beautiful women such as her. arms cross over his chest as he too steps within the space, her space… well, as close as he could get that the bars would allow. tell me, her words ring and he’s ready to give some kind of answer, not quite sure which kind of answer but he’s interested, color him piqued. then there it was, a question he really didn’t know the answer to. honesty, worth a shot right, “not sure, never had the occasion, not really…” not in the way she might be thinking. “perhaps a four point five out of ten. why?”

it was the answer that made her laugh. four point five. precise, definite even. low on the scale. perfect. with him as close as he was, it would have been so simple to reach through the bars to touch him, to gauge his body’s reactions to such a thing. but she didn’t. those fingers came up to take hold of a bar, instead. “because i have need for a body.” whether it was to paint, or to assist she hadn’t quite determined yet. “and i particularly like the look of yours.”

“I think so, yes.” She speaks the way that she speaks, at least, and has yet to give it much thought. Maybe there is something blatant to it. She pauses in thought, comparing it to the ways others here have spoken to her. “I speak to other slaves most of all, I think, and so many of them hide in their words. It’s very interesting.” And occasionally irritating, whenever her questions go unanswered, but she has yet to figure out how to work around that. “I imagine they could be afraid of being punished if they speak out of turn. Do you punish easily? I think that’s such an interesting habit.”

the smile remained tugging at the corners of her mouth as she regarded the other. and then she nodded. it was soft, subtle even, but it was there. “good.” she preferred the blatancy to words, ileana wasn’t always the best at reading into things. at coy games and different meanings. there was a laugh that soon followed though. the way the girl spoke, how she spoke - all relative to how she though - was fascinating. oddball, almost. “it’s possible. i know some people hide in their words to keep information to themselves. a means of protection.” turning her gaze to the slave, a single brow rose at the question and, again, she smirked. “no, i don’t think i do.” and then a shrug. “i suppose it depends on the actions, though.”

Mirela had paid no attention to the woman, as she was still trying to figure out where exactly she was. This wasn’t Bulgaria, she knew that for sure, and she hated the clothes she had to put on, but that was better than nothing, she had to admit that. Her attention was caught when the woman said way too much, and she turned her big brown eyes up to her, “Hey, there’s no need to apologize for it. I’m the one behind the bars, right? I should be the one who’s supposed to make any apologies”

She made a face at the girl, a wave of confusion wrapped up in obvious disbelief. but she didn’t say anything, not just yet, at least. she looked her over. for the first time since stopping in front of the bars, she really looked her over. ileana had a habit of either saying too much or too little. and sometimes nothing at all. when she finally did speak, her chin had lifted, hand coming to wave off the girls words. “you’ve no reason to issue apologies unless you’ve done something wrong.” maybe not everyone’s opinion, but hey. “and you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”

“I don’t think it matters so much.” Even, absentminded words, distracted words, as she fidgets with her shirt. It brushes uncomfortably against her collarbone when she moves too recklessly. She tugs at it, smooths it down flat. “However you meant for it to sound. But that’s alright.” She looks toward the woman, her attention suddenly fixed sharply on her. “If you were a slave, maybe, you could be punished if your meaning was misinterpreted. You’re very pretty, you know.”

it was habit to apologize, more often than not her mouth ran without filter only because her mind moved too fast for it to keep up. she spoke in broken sentences, fragmented thoughts. she starts one though, finishes with another leaving no real gap between the two. she could blame it on the colors, the constant distraction, but that only gave invitation to more broken speeches and moments like this. she did give the girl a little apologetic smirk, a soft shrug without any other explanation. she was peculiar, fluently sliding from one topic to another and by the time she had finished, ileana laughed. “perhaps i would be, and thank you. i’ve been told. do you always speak so blatantly?”

The woman had spoken in a way that Henry was unfamiliar to him. So often people were scalding or tight-lipped when around him. Now she was standing there, looking like she wished she had not said anything at all. Henry wondered why she would backtrack at all. “…It’s fine.” He whispered out with a nod of his head.

he had always been a quiet one. soft spoken, minimal with her words. sheltered was a good word she used for him. she gave a little wave of her hand, a motion toward her head before she laughed. “i mix up thoughts sometimes and they come out all jumbled.” she paused then, watching him, but mostly getting everything in order - mentally - before she spoke again. “anyway,” an exhale. “what i was trying to say was - painting. want to come with me again?”

a  new  found  sense  of  safety,  he’s  no  idea  where  it  comes  from,  perhaps  the  collar  around  his  neck  keeps  him  slightly  humble—  knowing  there  is  a  piece  of  his  mistress  always  there  with  him,  that  if  anything  happened  she’d  go  into  a  rage.  it  was  comforting  in  the  most  possible  way  ;  as  much  as  death  and  destruction  could  be.  which  is  more  than  likely  why  he  found  himself  dozing  off  somewhere.  time  was  a  construct  he’s  yet  to  manage,  groggy  expression  given  as  he  rolls  over  slightly  to  face  he  sound  and  movement  next  to  him,  “is  it  still  sunday?”

Usually people would prod him for not knowing something, and yet, this woman said nothing. Henry wondered if she was holding back or if she simply wasn’t curious as to why Henry acted the way he did. He wasn’t much for conversation, or at least, not initiating it. So instead he fell silent and settled back into his seat. Head turned slightly so he could watch the scenery pass them by.

As far as she was concerned, everyone had a reason as to what they did - or didn’t - know in life. she had grown ignorant to many things outside of the temple, outside of the allowed information that seemed to flow through. there was a curiosity there, but not one that would take precedence. so they drove in silence, content quiet along the way. she had no qualms with a lack of conversation, Ileana, more often than not, found herself on the awkward end of it all. but eventually the car came to a stop outside of her home, keys pulled from the ignition as she reached to push the button and undo his seat belt. “Come on,” a nudge of her head as she stepped out.

“Aside from the fact that I’m not quite sure how that would work, considering the Cavae doesn’t offer joint claiming. Someone’s going to have their name on the paperwork. And, assuming it’s me, anyone who wants to touch my claim is going to have be touched by me first. I’m top bitch in this dysfunctional triangle, and everyone will know.

Now, assuming this other person is okay with being dominated by me, then it’s likely. If not, then we have no deal.”

Henry felt himself tense slightly as the woman leaned over him. He almost thought, just for a moment, that she would strike him for not knowing something so simple. God knew he’d been punished for less. He watched as she pulled the belt secure across his lap and chest, listening to the small click as it clipped in place. “Thank you.” He told her with a nod of his head.

she didn’t catch the tension as she leaned. too focused on getting him hooked in, too preoccupied with the question he had asked. then again, she wasn’t terribly in tune with the world, or people, around her. her fingers lingered on the buckle, only for a moment before she pulled back and gave a nod. “you’re welcome.” again, her mouth opened, breath taken in, but she didn’t ask. instead, she put the car into motion, lead them from the parking lot.