Talvez o ofurô não fosse grande o suficiente para tantas pessoas. Talvez elas fossem espaçosas demais. Talvez a filha de Melinoe não devesse ser tão cara de pau em entrar no lugar sem sequer ser convidada. — Acredito que estavam esperando um terceiro membro para fechar o grupo, não é? — Brincou, sempre com aquele sorriso largo nos lábios que tornava difícil decifrar se estava mesmo bem ou apenas fingindo. De qualquer forma, parecia um trio promissor se formando ali, e Nicola sorriu com a possibilidade. — Você já me conhece. — Apontou para Evelyn, o olhar cheio de significados que só a loira entenderia. Então virou-se para a outra. — Mas você... nunca tive o prazer. Quer dizer, seu rosto é familiar, talvez seja antiga no acampamento, mas nunca fomos apresentadas. Ou já? — Se foram, ela estava chapada demais para se lembrar. Riu sozinha por pensar na possibilidade. — Eu sou Nicola, do chalé vinte e sete. — Apresentou-se, por via das dúvidas. — Ah! E se a gente se conhecesse melhor com um "eu nunca"? A gente não se vê há um tempo, aposto que até você tem novidades para me contar. — Falou, dessa vez, com a loira. Encarou as duas, com expectativa, esperando uma resposta positiva.
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O seu último dia na ilha havia acabado de começar. O sol nasceu há poucos minutos, ela colocou o seu maiô e foi caminhar na praia. Não esperava que tantas crianças já estivessem acordadas naquele horário, especialmente com tanta energia. Gritavam, cantarolavam, corriam de um lado para o outro, e tudo aquilo que a aborrecia tanto. O barulho, a correria, a areia voando pelos ares. Isabella não era um exemplo de paciência; longe disso. Mas uma outra campista parecia ainda mais irritada com o que estava acontecendo. Ouviu uma gritaria, parecendo uma discussão, a mais velha de costas e era possível ver o rosto assustado da pequena a sua frente enquanto a escutava. A caçadora apareceu, tentando ouvir o que era dito, mas interrompendo logo que estava perto o suficiente. — Ei, ei... — Tocou o ombro da mais velha. — Calma! Sei que as crianças não são fáceis, mas precisa se acalmar. O que fizeram? — Olhou para os dois lados da briga, esperando que alguém lhe explicasse.
The girl was in the marketplace. Sybille weaved through the stalls as she normally did, glancing at the girl as she did so, never for long, and never outright. The girl stood at the back of the marketplace like she always did, posture demure, non-threatening, but eyes ablaze, calculating as they scanned the crowds. She never could hide that fire, instead she glanced down when someone paid too much attention to her, but once they had passed she continued to watch. Sybille was curious about her, had been curious about her for quite some time though she daren't approach. Those scheming eyes reminded her of her own young fire.
Something about today felt different. The girl looked a little bored, poor thing, and Sybille was filled with an urge to show off. The urge was strange; usually Sybille was quite content to go about her day without incident. She gave into a little smile. Perhaps she could make the girl's day a little more interesting. Subtly, she slipped her coin purse under her outer skirt.
She walked over to a jeweler's stall, armed with two guards and within the girl's view. Sybille fancied the girl at least something of a thief; she had that hungry, opportunistic gleam to her. The jeweler's cart would be an impossible target for her; the guards would probably shoo her off in her drab gown before she got near enough to see the wares. Sybille, in her modest cream linen dress and ruby necklace was allowed a much closer look.
For a few minutes she made a show of looking pensive over his wares, holding her hand to her face, fiddling with her own necklace. She waited until someone else approached the stall, an older gentleman in clothes that meant he was well enough off to take the hit.
"Can I take this one?" she asked the vendor, pointing to a simple, silver chain with an elegant green leaf, embedded with green jewels. "Green is her favourite colour," she said with a sweet smile. He picked it up gingerly and gave her the price, letting the stones glimmer in the light. Sybille smiled prettily, reaching for her purse, only to find it wasn't there.
"Oh no, oh no," she started muttering, frantically patting her skirts, everywhere except where her coins would rattle. "I must have- I must have left my purse at home!" she said with a little cry, hoping it was loud enough to get the girl's attention. It certainly got her mark's, he was looking at her out the corner of his eye. Curious, but not concerned.
"Better luck next time, love," the vendor said, and began setting the necklace down again.
"Oh no, no- please! It's for my cousin, I was sick when she was married and she leaves for her honeymoon this afternoon!" She bit her lip, reached out tentatively for the necklace, but pulled her hands back. "Please, there must be some way- I can come back tomorrow and pay for it..."
The vendor looked at her necklace, lips curving into a crescent smile. "Well, I could take your necklace in return. For insurance."
Sybille clutched her necklace, fiddling with the ruby droplet, looking aghast. I bet you'd like my necklace, she thought maliciously. You'd take out the rubies and replace them with a cheap garnet, like the necklace you're trying to sell me. "M-My necklace? I-I couldn't- My late husband..." a glance to the side, at her mark. He was looking at her now with pity clear in his eyes. Good. "It was his wedding gift to me, you see..."
"I'll pay for it." Sybille hid her smile with a startled gasp, turning to the fly which had willingly launched himself into her trap.
"Monsieur, that is very kind of you... but I could never accept such a gift from a stranger..." She let her eyes say otherwise, begging for him not to step down.
He didn't. With a shake of his head he gave the vendor the coins for the purchase, handed the necklace to Sybille- who shook her head and refused him again. It was only right to be polite. "Please, accept it, and promise to give my blessings to your dear cousin." He gave a kindly, debonair smile. Must have been quite the ladies' man back in the day.
Sybille held her breath throughout his exchange, let her face go red, her eyes water. "Monsieur, you are too kind!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to give him a kiss on both cheeks, rubbing his upper arms as she did so. That would count as his payment.
The stranger blushed and gave some stammering, polite excusal, bowing as he tipped his head to her. Sybille curtseyed back, holding the necklace to her chest as if it were a long-lost family heirloom, waved and thanked him again and again.
Once he had turned his back, she let the darker edge spring back into her smile, hummed to herself as she walked through the market. At a fruit stall near the girl she placed a few apples in her basket, a few oranges to treat her father with when she got home. She flipped her purse out from under her skirts, handed the vendor a coin and urged her to keep the change.
As she bit into her apple, she looked straight at the girl, and shared with her a self-satisfied smirk.
