Continued from [x] with @reliver
Oh, she’s flattered by his words. That she could have that much agency. Be an assassin sent to take away life. With a knife somewhere among the folds of her dress. She isn’t one (unfortunately?), but would she really like to be one? It’s an entertaining thought, but nothing more.
Yet, she doesn’t show it. At least not yet. She maintains the distance between them looking how bored he appeared to be. So, is he joking or is he truly not afraid of death?
“So, would you like me to be one?” – she asks; her blue eyes curiously looking at him; she hums – “I can be whatever you want me to be...” – at least for some time; it’s not clear if she’s joking or if she can truly grant him that wish. Nunnally smiles (but that’s a sad smile), and shakes her head. Her fair hair dancing around her neck and her shoulders.
“Are you? It’s such a sad confession. Even if you don’t seem to be really scared…”
“Can one ever get really accustomed to see an assassin in almost every person around you?” – she knows that is her fate; perhaps it already is, but she is too naïve to be fully aware of that. Or perhaps it’s still not certain if the crown will be put on her head. Will she ever get accustomed to it?
“I was not sent to kill you. I was merely sent to keep you company. And I am glad I was.” – a genuine smile; he’s entertaining; different than people she is used to – “I like you.” – she decides; and moreover decides to share that with him.
