Rosalind Lutece (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
originallutece) wrote2017-09-22 05:41 pm
originallutece) wrote2017-09-22 05:41 pm
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[Strictly speaking, it's only been a few weeks since she's been kissed herself, but still Rosalind leans into it just as eagerly as if it's been ages. His mouth is hard and he kisses with confidence, and god, but she's hungry for it. Her hand settles lightly on his shoulder, but that doesn't last.
Because, see, Robert is, of course, the ideal man. No one could or will ever match Robert, not in Rosalind's mind. But Eggsy is very attractive, and very wet, and very shirtless, and how is she meant to resist that? So no, her hand doesn't stay on his shoulder. She drags it over his torso like she's got a right to it; like they've done this often enough that she knows she's allowed. Down the lines of his body, over his torso, her fingers firm and ever-moving.
(What is she doing? She'll wonder at this later. She'll be horrified at this later, frankly, but not for any reason to do with Eggsy himself. Madam Lutece can't ever go around kissing anyone, not ever, and especially not some strange boy ten years younger than her. She'll burn with embarrassment and choke with the horror of what might have happened, but oh, that's for later).
For now, she opens her mouth to it, her tongue slipping forward, because what's the point of being older and more experienced if you don't do anything with it?]
Because, see, Robert is, of course, the ideal man. No one could or will ever match Robert, not in Rosalind's mind. But Eggsy is very attractive, and very wet, and very shirtless, and how is she meant to resist that? So no, her hand doesn't stay on his shoulder. She drags it over his torso like she's got a right to it; like they've done this often enough that she knows she's allowed. Down the lines of his body, over his torso, her fingers firm and ever-moving.
(What is she doing? She'll wonder at this later. She'll be horrified at this later, frankly, but not for any reason to do with Eggsy himself. Madam Lutece can't ever go around kissing anyone, not ever, and especially not some strange boy ten years younger than her. She'll burn with embarrassment and choke with the horror of what might have happened, but oh, that's for later).
For now, she opens her mouth to it, her tongue slipping forward, because what's the point of being older and more experienced if you don't do anything with it?]
[Of all the things to focus on . . . she's not offended, though. Just curious at those priorities.]
I am, yes.
Are you not fond of them?
I am, yes.
Are you not fond of them?
No, of course not.
[ A lie both because she doesn't want to let on to her actual experiences...but she also doesn't want to offend. ]
I spent a great deal of my childhood around scientist. It's just been a long time since I spoke with one in person.
[ A lie both because she doesn't want to let on to her actual experiences...but she also doesn't want to offend. ]
I spent a great deal of my childhood around scientist. It's just been a long time since I spoke with one in person.
[There's a few factors that make her doubt that claim, but Rosalind won't bring that up right now.]
Were your parents scientists, then?
Were your parents scientists, then?
Not exactly. They...dabbled, but also worked closely with many.
I'm almost jealous. I would have given quite a bit for my parents to do the same.
[Except she's saying that just to have something to say. There's something here she's missing, Rosalind knows, but direct questions won't reveal anything.]
[Except she's saying that just to have something to say. There's something here she's missing, Rosalind knows, but direct questions won't reveal anything.]
ardyn "i'm not a villain at all no really ros" izunia
originallutece
2017-11-22 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[He's lucky he's not shaking that finger in implicit scolding of her behavior; she'd be a lot less amenable towards it if so. As it is, she looks doubtful, though amused.]
Really. And whom did you disguise yourself as?
Really. And whom did you disguise yourself as?
Edited 2017-11-22 23:35 (UTC)
[A wide grin, as if just thinking back on this is hilarious. Because it is, in a way.]
As him.
As him.
. . . well, now.
[She crosses her arms behind her back, moving to circle around him.]
Let's see. If you disguised yourself as him . . .
[But why would his friend shove him off? Unless--]
Ardyn.
[Prompto's voice has never sounded so lilting-- or at least, never when it was aimed towards Ardyn.]
Can you disguise others?
[She crosses her arms behind her back, moving to circle around him.]
Let's see. If you disguised yourself as him . . .
[But why would his friend shove him off? Unless--]
Ardyn.
[Prompto's voice has never sounded so lilting-- or at least, never when it was aimed towards Ardyn.]
Can you disguise others?
[She gives her one last lingering look, unimpressed by her doubt, but whatever, it is what it is. Rosalind watches the dragons as they come near. For the time being, they're ignoring Angel; Rosalind is what they're interested in, Rosalind and her bloody torso.
Their pace picks up. She's just standing there, and they're too stupid to think it's a trap; they imagine her easy prey, and yet as the first opens its jaws to bite at her--
--she disappears.
And reappears, four feet back, closer to the pen. The dragons start at that, but they're not so easily deterred; with a snarl they rush forward, and Rosalind disappears again, reappearing closer to the pen-- again and again, until she's in the pen proper and the dragons are frustrated beyond reason, snarling as they chase her inwards.]
Now, if you please--
Their pace picks up. She's just standing there, and they're too stupid to think it's a trap; they imagine her easy prey, and yet as the first opens its jaws to bite at her--
--she disappears.
And reappears, four feet back, closer to the pen. The dragons start at that, but they're not so easily deterred; with a snarl they rush forward, and Rosalind disappears again, reappearing closer to the pen-- again and again, until she's in the pen proper and the dragons are frustrated beyond reason, snarling as they chase her inwards.]
Now, if you please--
[Prompto has also never been so bold as to scrutinize him in this way. Odd as it may be, Rosalind being very much Rosalind is making it easier to separate the two from each other.]
In a way, though different than what I can do to myself. What you can do to yourself.
[He remembers that time, back on the train. Forcing Noctis' brain to believe that his friend was his enemy, and his enemy was his friend. It was so simple, so straightforward, and how easily they both fell for it.]
I can "disguise" them by making others believe to view them as someone else. Only in their eyes, do they see the truth warped and twisted. Illusion, in a way.
[A true tricking of the mind, as opposed to practically taking the shape of another person. A subtle difference, but a difference nonetheless.]
In a way, though different than what I can do to myself. What you can do to yourself.
[He remembers that time, back on the train. Forcing Noctis' brain to believe that his friend was his enemy, and his enemy was his friend. It was so simple, so straightforward, and how easily they both fell for it.]
I can "disguise" them by making others believe to view them as someone else. Only in their eyes, do they see the truth warped and twisted. Illusion, in a way.
[A true tricking of the mind, as opposed to practically taking the shape of another person. A subtle difference, but a difference nonetheless.]
[What you can do to yourself, Ardyn adds, and Rosalind feels a thrill run through her. Her powers have been all but stolen from her, but with this . . . god, she's got far more than just rudimentary defenses now, doesn't she?]
So the question becomes . . . why were you taunting Prompto and his friends? Tricking a boy into shoving his friend over the side of a train isn't very nice.
[She has a fair idea, but best to hear it from Ardyn first.]
So the question becomes . . . why were you taunting Prompto and his friends? Tricking a boy into shoving his friend over the side of a train isn't very nice.
[She has a fair idea, but best to hear it from Ardyn first.]
Edited 2017-11-23 21:47 (UTC)
[But as always, Ardyn is prone to turning the question around on her. Especially when it concerns this, for he wishes to know what kind of impression the boy is making of himself to others. Probably nothing flattering.]
Generally speaking, no. But I imagine he's already told you a bit about myself, hasn't he?
Generally speaking, no. But I imagine he's already told you a bit about myself, hasn't he?
A bit. Not much I hadn't already known, though I admit, it adds a bit more realism when I have a name. Revenge against your . . . I have no idea what he'd be at that point. How many generations go into two thousand years? Some kind of grandson or nephew, though. Noctis and his friends . . .
I'd wager he doesn't know the two of you are related, does he? None of them do.
I'd wager he doesn't know the two of you are related, does he? None of them do.
You're far more appealing.
[To the dragons. Because she's bloody. Yeah. That's absolutely what she meant.
Rosalind teleports away on that note, going to stand by the side of the pen. Aranea's got to do this next part by herself; she's not going to risk getting bitten by a dragon who doesn't know you're only supposed to attack the proper bait.
Luckily for her, they are intrigued by Aranea. The boldest one is starting to trot, drool pooling in its mouth as it stares up at what clearly is some kind of bloody snack. The others, encouraged, start to follow; soon Aranea's got three dragons eyeing her up.
Time to run, hm?]
[To the dragons. Because she's bloody. Yeah. That's absolutely what she meant.
Rosalind teleports away on that note, going to stand by the side of the pen. Aranea's got to do this next part by herself; she's not going to risk getting bitten by a dragon who doesn't know you're only supposed to attack the proper bait.
Luckily for her, they are intrigued by Aranea. The boldest one is starting to trot, drool pooling in its mouth as it stares up at what clearly is some kind of bloody snack. The others, encouraged, start to follow; soon Aranea's got three dragons eyeing her up.
Time to run, hm?]
[Absurdly, stupidly (sentimentally, and oh, she hates that part of herself), Rosalind is quietly pleased when he laces their fingers together. It's a moment of sweetness amid the overwhelming filth; it's a false assurance that surely means nothing at all, but that she latches onto gratefully as he spills down her throat. Her fingers grip his tightly as she moans, keening for how he forces himself down her throat again and again. She can just imagine how they must look, his cock thick and hard and leaving an outline against her throat, and god, what she wouldn't give for an outside perspective--
But then he's finishing, and that demands all her attention. Rosalind shudders in relief and pleasure both as he convulses in her mouth, throbbing for each wave of orgasm that hits him. He pulls out quickly enough that it leaves her mouth sticky, come and saliva mixing and dripping over her lips; Rosalind shoves the back of her wrist against her mouth hastily the moment he leaves her, swallowing the mess at the same time.
And then that's it. He sits beside her, his appearance regressing and his gaze amused, and it's such a contrast from the heat and noise of before that she's left a little stunned in its wake. She blinks at him once, twice, her blue eyes wide and her chest rising and falling as she pants--
--and then she gets a hold of herself. Her eyes go hooded and her expression falls into sardonic amusement rather than stunned pleasure. Pushing her fingers through her mussed hair, she tips her head in wry acknowledgement, her mouth quirking into a slight smile (she can still taste him on her; she has to resist the urge to lick her lips).]
I think I've rather an idea. Though you'll notice I'm not running for the hills just yet.
[Because really: while he's overwhelming, that's no bad thing. She can't say she's displeased with the past half hour. Far from it; she's all but soaked through her panties in eagerness, and though her throat is sore and her jaw aches terribly, she's not nearly ready to call it a night.
She can take a break, though. For a minute. She's riled up enough she can't wait more than that, but she'll let them both catch their breath. Rosalind turns slightly, legs curling under her and one elbow resting against the couch as she shifts to face him more.]
All this, and you still haven't gotten my clothes off yet.
[Her gaze wanders over him, her smile growing as she drinks in the view.]
I hope you're as good as giving as you are getting, Bigby. You owe me two.
[One, because she's going to come within a minute of him touching her and she knows it, and so two, because she won't stand for him only having his mouth on her for a few minutes.]
But then he's finishing, and that demands all her attention. Rosalind shudders in relief and pleasure both as he convulses in her mouth, throbbing for each wave of orgasm that hits him. He pulls out quickly enough that it leaves her mouth sticky, come and saliva mixing and dripping over her lips; Rosalind shoves the back of her wrist against her mouth hastily the moment he leaves her, swallowing the mess at the same time.
And then that's it. He sits beside her, his appearance regressing and his gaze amused, and it's such a contrast from the heat and noise of before that she's left a little stunned in its wake. She blinks at him once, twice, her blue eyes wide and her chest rising and falling as she pants--
--and then she gets a hold of herself. Her eyes go hooded and her expression falls into sardonic amusement rather than stunned pleasure. Pushing her fingers through her mussed hair, she tips her head in wry acknowledgement, her mouth quirking into a slight smile (she can still taste him on her; she has to resist the urge to lick her lips).]
I think I've rather an idea. Though you'll notice I'm not running for the hills just yet.
[Because really: while he's overwhelming, that's no bad thing. She can't say she's displeased with the past half hour. Far from it; she's all but soaked through her panties in eagerness, and though her throat is sore and her jaw aches terribly, she's not nearly ready to call it a night.
She can take a break, though. For a minute. She's riled up enough she can't wait more than that, but she'll let them both catch their breath. Rosalind turns slightly, legs curling under her and one elbow resting against the couch as she shifts to face him more.]
All this, and you still haven't gotten my clothes off yet.
[Her gaze wanders over him, her smile growing as she drinks in the view.]
I hope you're as good as giving as you are getting, Bigby. You owe me two.
[One, because she's going to come within a minute of him touching her and she knows it, and so two, because she won't stand for him only having his mouth on her for a few minutes.]
Edited 2017-11-26 21:34 (UTC)
[Putting two and two together in a flash, much as he would expect from her at this point. But-]
That all depends on when the lot of them come from. [The implication being quite clear: Ardyn's timeline does not match up with theirs.] But I have no reason to keep them in the dark for longer than necessary. [Ha... his own little pun, probably gone underappreciated.]
Prompto has seen my abilities. He knows of my relation to Noctis, even if he doesn't make an effort to question it further.
That all depends on when the lot of them come from. [The implication being quite clear: Ardyn's timeline does not match up with theirs.] But I have no reason to keep them in the dark for longer than necessary. [Ha... his own little pun, probably gone underappreciated.]
Prompto has seen my abilities. He knows of my relation to Noctis, even if he doesn't make an effort to question it further.
Mm. He wondered if I was royalty the first time I teleported in front of him.
[Now, at last, the illusion fades; Prompto melts away, replaced once more by Rosalind Lutece, red-headed and just as freckled. The mirth fades away too, as Rosalind stares up neutrally at him.]
Were you hoping to kill him?
[Now, at last, the illusion fades; Prompto melts away, replaced once more by Rosalind Lutece, red-headed and just as freckled. The mirth fades away too, as Rosalind stares up neutrally at him.]
Were you hoping to kill him?
[There's an awful lot of information being left out here, Rosalind knows. She can hear the gaps in her story, and she wonders what information fills them. Who was Joffrey marrying, then? And what had this Ramsay done, that he deserved such a fate?
(He did deserve it, she has no doubt. Cold Sansa might be, but sadistic she is not).
Rosalind watches her for a few more seconds, speculating privately, before saying:]
. . . one was shot. Of mine, I mean. He took a bullet to the face, though it was not at my hand, to my eternal disappointment. I would have dearly liked to be the one to slaughter Jeremiah Fink. And the other . . .
[She smiles faintly.]
A massive drill. Right--
[She slides her fingers under her ribcage, just above her stomach. Oh, yes. Comstock had died horribly, gurgling and choking on his own blood, gasping his shock as he'd reached up towards the people whose lives he'd destroyed.]
I've been told revenge brings no relief, but I found it quite satisfying. And if either of them wake, I'm more than ready to revisit their deaths upon them.
(He did deserve it, she has no doubt. Cold Sansa might be, but sadistic she is not).
Rosalind watches her for a few more seconds, speculating privately, before saying:]
. . . one was shot. Of mine, I mean. He took a bullet to the face, though it was not at my hand, to my eternal disappointment. I would have dearly liked to be the one to slaughter Jeremiah Fink. And the other . . .
[She smiles faintly.]
A massive drill. Right--
[She slides her fingers under her ribcage, just above her stomach. Oh, yes. Comstock had died horribly, gurgling and choking on his own blood, gasping his shock as he'd reached up towards the people whose lives he'd destroyed.]
I've been told revenge brings no relief, but I found it quite satisfying. And if either of them wake, I'm more than ready to revisit their deaths upon them.
[ pardon Bigby for not spending a lot of time thinking about how oddly gentle he is being in the midst of taking his frustrations out on Rosalind in what is possibly the best way possible. he holds onto anything that he can at that point in time, but it's possible that he laces his fingers with hers as a way of attempting to gain her trust. sure, he is pounding her throat ruthlessly and with reckless abandon, but he still intends on remaining in control of himself enough to make sure he doesn't tear into the woman in ways that aren't beneficial to the both of them.
his orgasm comes, and by god did it come, and it's gone just as fast. Rosalind may be concerned that he is a typical guy, having emptied himself inside of her and ready to call it quits on the spot. that is not the case. not in the slightest. as the two of them sit on the ground of all places, thighs pressing together, she can probably sneak a peek down below and see how his cock hasn't even teased the idea of losing its erection. in fact, it's still pulsating in a lively fashion, a few remnants of pre dribbling out of his slit along with her spit. ]
You're a tough one. I'll give you that much. Surprised you can talk right now.
[ seriously, he's going to go ahead and give her kudos. Rosalind said how much she enjoyed having a cock inside her mouth as a way of toying with him before, but he wholeheartedly believes that statement now. as he watches the conflict in her eyes, just knowing she wants more of his taste, he just barely reveals his teeth to her in a confident, typically-smile of sorts. his intent is probably more obvious in the tug of his lips than anything else on his face right now. ]
Seemed rude to stop you to make sure I pulled your skirt off. Sue me.
[ there won't be a minute to rest. it isn't more than a handful of seconds later before Bigby is jumping back up to his feet at an unreasonably fast speed. Rosalind will find herself following him whether or not she likes it, pulled up and off of the ground as if, again, she weighed nothing. she's thrown into the couch before she may even realize what is going on, and just like that, Bigby is on his knees again. perhaps it's out of spite or perhaps it's impatience to get right to it, but her skirt isn't pulled off. it is instead rolled up her legs until the creamy white flesh of her inner thighs is exposed, likely glistening with arousal.
perhaps it would also make sense to at least pull her panties off. he does not. she doesn't get another peep from him as he grabs her by the ankles and drags her straight down into his awaiting maw. his face stuffs itself underneath the bunched up skirt and he is met with immediate warmth and wetness. Bigby lets out another familiar noise akin to a growl as he mouths against her clothed cunt, dragging a tongue stronger than most along the lace repeatedly, only stopping to tease her with the idea of his teeth nipping at the fabric to pull it away. she'll get what she wants. soon. ]
his orgasm comes, and by god did it come, and it's gone just as fast. Rosalind may be concerned that he is a typical guy, having emptied himself inside of her and ready to call it quits on the spot. that is not the case. not in the slightest. as the two of them sit on the ground of all places, thighs pressing together, she can probably sneak a peek down below and see how his cock hasn't even teased the idea of losing its erection. in fact, it's still pulsating in a lively fashion, a few remnants of pre dribbling out of his slit along with her spit. ]
You're a tough one. I'll give you that much. Surprised you can talk right now.
[ seriously, he's going to go ahead and give her kudos. Rosalind said how much she enjoyed having a cock inside her mouth as a way of toying with him before, but he wholeheartedly believes that statement now. as he watches the conflict in her eyes, just knowing she wants more of his taste, he just barely reveals his teeth to her in a confident, typically-smile of sorts. his intent is probably more obvious in the tug of his lips than anything else on his face right now. ]
Seemed rude to stop you to make sure I pulled your skirt off. Sue me.
[ there won't be a minute to rest. it isn't more than a handful of seconds later before Bigby is jumping back up to his feet at an unreasonably fast speed. Rosalind will find herself following him whether or not she likes it, pulled up and off of the ground as if, again, she weighed nothing. she's thrown into the couch before she may even realize what is going on, and just like that, Bigby is on his knees again. perhaps it's out of spite or perhaps it's impatience to get right to it, but her skirt isn't pulled off. it is instead rolled up her legs until the creamy white flesh of her inner thighs is exposed, likely glistening with arousal.
perhaps it would also make sense to at least pull her panties off. he does not. she doesn't get another peep from him as he grabs her by the ankles and drags her straight down into his awaiting maw. his face stuffs itself underneath the bunched up skirt and he is met with immediate warmth and wetness. Bigby lets out another familiar noise akin to a growl as he mouths against her clothed cunt, dragging a tongue stronger than most along the lace repeatedly, only stopping to tease her with the idea of his teeth nipping at the fabric to pull it away. she'll get what she wants. soon. ]
[She'd had a vague thought to lead him to the bedroom, if only because there's more room for them there, but apparently that's right off the table. Rosalind hisses in shock as she's first thrown down and then yanked forward, and just like that his mouth is on her. And that's wonderful, that's fantastic, and she's all ready to spread her legs and fall back against the couch, except--
Except he doesn't yank at her panties. He doesn't tear them off (and she'd had half a mind to warn him not to tear, nor to dig in with his claws as he gripped her ankles, because both stockings and lingerie are expensive and she's not made of money, except saying all that would require being able to think much in the first place). No, he simply mouths at her, his tongue hot and yet removed, there and yet not, utterly infuriating in the tease of it all.]
Bigby--
[Rosalind shoves her panties down low on her hips, trying to encourage him to remove them entirely. Her other hand smooths through his hair, sweeping it back away from his face. She doesn't try and control him, not yet, though she's throbbing beneath his attentions, needy and yet not at all getting what she wants. Each time he nips at the fabric she jerks, her hips lifting up, because surely now will be the time when he tugs them down--]
Properly-- go on, I k-know you know how--
[He hasn't even gotten his mouth on her and she's already stuttering, but on the other hand, how is she to help it? She's impossibly wet for him, riled up from the bar and the way he'd groped at her; the heavy heat of his cock in her mouth and the lingering aftertaste he'd left behind; and above all that heat, pulsing through her and leaving her far needier than normal.
Her free hand comes up again, tugging at her blouse. In a moment she's loosened the buttons; it hangs open, framing a pale torso and the curve of her breasts, held sweetly in place by a bra that matches the panties he still hasn't pulled down.]
Or are you waiting for an order?
Except he doesn't yank at her panties. He doesn't tear them off (and she'd had half a mind to warn him not to tear, nor to dig in with his claws as he gripped her ankles, because both stockings and lingerie are expensive and she's not made of money, except saying all that would require being able to think much in the first place). No, he simply mouths at her, his tongue hot and yet removed, there and yet not, utterly infuriating in the tease of it all.]
Bigby--
[Rosalind shoves her panties down low on her hips, trying to encourage him to remove them entirely. Her other hand smooths through his hair, sweeping it back away from his face. She doesn't try and control him, not yet, though she's throbbing beneath his attentions, needy and yet not at all getting what she wants. Each time he nips at the fabric she jerks, her hips lifting up, because surely now will be the time when he tugs them down--]
Properly-- go on, I k-know you know how--
[He hasn't even gotten his mouth on her and she's already stuttering, but on the other hand, how is she to help it? She's impossibly wet for him, riled up from the bar and the way he'd groped at her; the heavy heat of his cock in her mouth and the lingering aftertaste he'd left behind; and above all that heat, pulsing through her and leaving her far needier than normal.
Her free hand comes up again, tugging at her blouse. In a moment she's loosened the buttons; it hangs open, framing a pale torso and the curve of her breasts, held sweetly in place by a bra that matches the panties he still hasn't pulled down.]
Or are you waiting for an order?
[ The first time it happens, it's 'blink and you'll miss it.' Angel isn't quite sure what she's just seen transpire. Then it happens again and Angel knows she isn't just seeing things. It reminds her of something- or more accurately someone- Rosalind is displaying a power similar to that of a particular Siren.
Angel by now has gotten an idea of the plan, waiting until Rosalind is inside, and so are the dragons, gnashing and snarling with frustration as they rush in after her and Angel slams the gate.
At least she hopes she's understood the plan, quickly pressing against the closed bars to look in and make sure Rosalind has once again vanished and isn't currently becoming dragon-chow. ]
Angel by now has gotten an idea of the plan, waiting until Rosalind is inside, and so are the dragons, gnashing and snarling with frustration as they rush in after her and Angel slams the gate.
At least she hopes she's understood the plan, quickly pressing against the closed bars to look in and make sure Rosalind has once again vanished and isn't currently becoming dragon-chow. ]
[It makes sense, for him to have thought that. Still, Ardyn doesn't even blink as she changes back, though he does think he prefers this sight much more.]
I was hoping to kill neither of them at the time -- Noctis or Prompto.
["At the time."]
Did Prompto tell you what happened after the incident on the train?
I was hoping to kill neither of them at the time -- Noctis or Prompto.
["At the time."]
Did Prompto tell you what happened after the incident on the train?
[ there is understanding in her eyes as she looks at Rosalind, understanding that one can only have after experiencing the same thing, knowing just how it feels, to know that a monster is gone and will never again hurt you or your loved ones. ]
... I wish it had been me who killed Joffrey. Queen Cersei, Joffrey's mother, she blamed me for it, but it hadn't been me. I never saw him die, either... I fled before that.
[ then, she falls silent, until: ] Ramsay did wake. And if he ever hurts my family again, I'll make sure there's nothing left of him to come back, this time. [ this time, yes. which is about the closest one will get to the admission that it was her who killed him the first time. ]
... I wish it had been me who killed Joffrey. Queen Cersei, Joffrey's mother, she blamed me for it, but it hadn't been me. I never saw him die, either... I fled before that.
[ then, she falls silent, until: ] Ramsay did wake. And if he ever hurts my family again, I'll make sure there's nothing left of him to come back, this time. [ this time, yes. which is about the closest one will get to the admission that it was her who killed him the first time. ]
[The moment she hears the gate close, Rosalind disappears. In a flash she's reappeared just outside the pen proper; another blink and she's a good few feet away. Panting softly, she eyes the growling dragons with satisfaction.]
There. A good deal of money for not a great deal of work.
There. A good deal of money for not a great deal of work.
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