How very chatty did the Grecian woman before her suddenly get. How talkative.
For a moment, that actually confused the pale girl, her small gloved hand clutching to the bandaged one almost on a defensive reflex, those big, beautiful, yet visibly broken eyes of hers darting everywhere but the blonde warrior.
She was supposed to be dead.
Dead, as in, gone. Forever.
Done with her oh-so-great sacrifice and then erased from existence, never to bother her, never to haunt her again!
But apparently, that was too much to ask. Apparently, nobody stayed dead these days anymore. Nobody but those she wouldn’t actually want to.
Why was it always like this, again? The brunette pursed her dark lips into a thin line, carefully watching the other’s every move, a part of her slightly paranoid disposition still expecting an assault.
”..teehehe~..” a small giggle escaped her lips either way, stretching the corners of her mouth upwards in an amused, yet slightly bitter, cold smile. Her voice was, undeniably, sounding different from how Sophitia may have remembered it. The hysterical, almost forced out high-pitch, so very grating to the ears of the unwary, was gone.
It sounded smoother. Calmer. Dare one say, more mature. Yet, recognisable.
Yet, still as creepy as ever. “And to think—pfft!—your son accused me of murdering you… haha.. can you imagine, Sophie?! Me! Murdering you! In cold blood! Oh, how very dramatic. He really believed that. What do I say now, that you took a vacation instead, hm?!”
The girl did not even know where did that small tirade come from. The self-proclaimed holy warrior absolutely loathed her and wanted her death for something she did not even do! Hah! How hilarious was that?
So, did it amuse her? Flatter her? Or, in fact, bother? She honestly did not know anymore.
“…Ah.” Little thrush tilted her head to the side, biting on the inside of her cheek. “Always with the Pyrrha question, mhm? Why don’t you ask her? The rascal’s alive an’ healthy, after all!”
Too much of a stretch. But, let’s be truly fair here… The wench was one ready bundle of great opportunity the twisted assassin couldn’t ignore when it was right in her hands.
All in honor of her Master. The Master that no longer mattered, the Master from whose grip she was, relatively, free. So, should it count?..
”..as healthy as possible, anyway. I may have.. made a few arrangements of my own while fulfilling the given..” Another giggle laced her sweet tone. “..promise. But she’s safe. That’s all that matters to ya, right, mother-of-the-year?! I didn’t get her killed! Go me!”
A pause lingered in the air, that heavy silence broken only by a raven’s caw, circling high above their heads.
Almost forcing her to speak some more. To not just stop there.
“You really should be.. proud of your kiddies, Sophitia. They did something you never could. Something no one could. They… deserve a treat from the dear mommy.” How ironic was it that her input, too, could be called the catalyst of it all?
Ironic enough to make her blood run cold, and conflicting emotions causing her knees to go weak and almost buckle under the small, thin frame.
