Pavetta Fiona Elen + TV Tropes

ada’s christmas eve countdown: 6/14.

 @krolewna​​​  said  :  don’t  touch  me  right  now!  i’m  not  -  don’t  touch  me!     [  meme.  ]

         “i’m sorry.” the tone is too polite. dangerously polite. and each word has the snap of ice, like an early-spring storm turning back to snow. every movement has a sharp, fluid grace, one practiced for hours and hours on aching legs, but the feral gleam in bright-green eyes has not been practiced at all. “what the hell did you just say to her?” 

          she’s well-known enough around here, for her talent as well as for that icy edge in her voice, and she sees them realize the mistake before they so much as begin to try to excuse themselves. but all she can see is pavetta, how the words had seemed to fall around her like glass. jenny’s dance bag slips from her shoulder, falls to the floor with a thud, leaving her weightless. and still approaching, step by perfectly-precise step until she stands just behind pavetta. drawn up to her full height, jenny is already taller than most of the other dancers, (her biggest downfall, one instructor had clucked long ago), and she draws up to it now, imperious and sharp and wild-eyed, a hawk ruffling its feathers to protect a dove. 

         “if you ever want to dance more visibly than in the back of a corps, i’d suggest you scatter,” she says, though her voice is little more than a snarl and the gleam in her eyes says she makes no promises regarding how much good that will do them. “and if you bother her again, the only jeté you’ll ever do after will be on your way out the door, is that clear?” (whether or not such decisions actually have anything to do with her word doesn’t seem to matter, her eyes say that she’ll find a way. that nothing else will matter but that determination.) 

           she doesn’t relent until they’re gone, all of them, none of them up to the challenge on her face. none of them willing to face her. but jenny isn’t done, wheels around on her heel to catch the retreating ringleader’s arm in the doorway. (maybe, just maybe, there’s the press of her nails through three-quarter sleeves.) “that goes double for you,” she says. “she can dance circles around you, and i can do that with both feet tied. don’t think for a second that i won’t know the moment you try something like this again.” disgust curls her lip as she lets go, waves over her shoulder without so much as a backward glance. stops at her bag just long enough to pull out a chilled water bottle, one she presses lightly to pavetta’s hand as notice that it’s there. 

@krolewna​ sent: ◕‿◕

          most of the time when pavetta sees her, jenny’s hair is pulled back: a neat bun coiled back on her head, secured back and away from her face. maybe it’s no wonder, then, that the tumbling red curls caught attention and curiosity. at the girl’s gentle touch jenny goes still, very still, fighting the instinct to swat at the hands that move through her hair, the way she would to so many, many others. but not pavetta - never her. “don’t get your fingers tangled,” is all she says, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking at pavetta through the mirrors lining one wall. “those curls have been known to eat bobby pins, i don’t know what else they might have an appetite for.” 

@krolewna​ said:                      “ i’m pregnant “

                        she froze where she stood, all color draining from her face, and she looked towards the urcheon, then the witcher, then towards her daughter. emotions washed over her one after the other - shock, through anger, a brief spark of joy and finally - fear. it was fear that won out in the end, settling deeply into the pit of her stomach, and she slowly san into the chair, both due to the way all energy drained from her body, and the dull ache she still felt in her back. gods, how could she have let that happen..?

                        not only had this man gotten so close to her young daughter right under her nose, but now… now her grandchild was bound by destiny to someone the same way her daughter had been. 

@krolewna​ said:                    ❝ that feels nice. ❞

                       calanthe smiled softly under her nose, the comb brushing across pavetta’s soft hair. yes, it did feel nice. that moment of closure they so often lacked these days… and focused so completely on her beloved daughter’s ashen locks, calanthe too could forget about the troubles she faced in her every day life as the queen.