"This.Is.Your...Home." He repeated dryly. "Hmmm." Well, that's a problem. Eyes still considered the situation as they assessed her, reading her face, the tone of her voice and stature. A soft chuckle twisted by annoyance curled the right side of his lip up. She was not lying and now the archaic box he saw made sense.
This was her home and she was his target. Christ. It made him wonder who his current employer was and whom Selene had obviously offended so caustically as to put a hit out on her. It did not settle in him well. It stirred anger in him that she might interpret as directed against her.
Yet, the hit was not entirely surprising, he thought before scolding himself. After all, he was lost in thought if only because it allowed him the luxury to wonder what the hell he was going to do without actually consciously thinking it.
To kill an Elder? Again. He suddenly couldn't swallow. To target Selene? Could he even dare? Their past was sorted but the years took the edge off his hurt like stone polished in the water. But a stone was hard regardless of its edges, he reminded himself. Especially if it was required to do a job. Something he had not felt in a long while stirred against him. The echoes of a man who had to adapt another persona and shed one that had nothing wrong with it. A man whose sole concern was to protect those under the coven's roof. Once. He chided himself.
Selene. She was changed. No, not changed. He was not subtle as he looked her over. Not at all. His neck craned slowly to one side in consideration as his unsettling smirk turned into a grin. Not changed. But...
unto herself.
Finally.
Something within her emanated the part of an elder. It was different but then he was surprised how she reminded him of her mother. His fingers reached out to curl the ends of her hair around his fingers. There was a woman last week, if one wanted to call her a woman...
He had curled his fingers around her hair, too. It was easier to hold her down that way before he dispatched of her head. That was the proof his contact wanted. Those same fingers gently pushed those tendrils of hair away behind her ear so that he could see her face better.
One hand cupped her face. His expression was odd. He looked into her face, tilting it slightly this way and that as if trying to reacquaint himself with every line of her jaw and the curve of her cheek. "Mmm." He had a far away look in his eyes. Maybe he checked out or maybe he was recalling some memory.
"Someone told me where to find you." He focused his gaze on her again. "Well," He drawled out deeply, "they told me where to find Emiliya Petrova." Emiliya. Amelia. Ah.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-08-17 02:39 am (UTC)This was her home and she was his target. Christ. It made him wonder who his current employer was and whom Selene had obviously offended so caustically as to put a hit out on her. It did not settle in him well. It stirred anger in him that she might interpret as directed against her.
Yet, the hit was not entirely surprising, he thought before scolding himself. After all, he was lost in thought if only because it allowed him the luxury to wonder what the hell he was going to do without actually consciously thinking it.
To kill an Elder? Again. He suddenly couldn't swallow. To target Selene? Could he even dare? Their past was sorted but the years took the edge off his hurt like stone polished in the water. But a stone was hard regardless of its edges, he reminded himself. Especially if it was required to do a job. Something he had not felt in a long while stirred against him. The echoes of a man who had to adapt another persona and shed one that had nothing wrong with it. A man whose sole concern was to protect those under the coven's roof. Once. He chided himself.
Selene. She was changed. No, not changed. He was not subtle as he looked her over. Not at all. His neck craned slowly to one side in consideration as his unsettling smirk turned into a grin. Not changed. But...
unto herself.
Finally.
Something within her emanated the part of an elder. It was different but then he was surprised how she reminded him of her mother. His fingers reached out to curl the ends of her hair around his fingers. There was a woman last week, if one wanted to call her a woman...
He had curled his fingers around her hair, too. It was easier to hold her down that way before he dispatched of her head. That was the proof his contact wanted. Those same fingers gently pushed those tendrils of hair away behind her ear so that he could see her face better.
One hand cupped her face. His expression was odd. He looked into her face, tilting it slightly this way and that as if trying to reacquaint himself with every line of her jaw and the curve of her cheek. "Mmm." He had a far away look in his eyes. Maybe he checked out or maybe he was recalling some memory.
"Someone told me where to find you." He focused his gaze on her again. "Well," He drawled out deeply, "they told me where to find Emiliya Petrova." Emiliya. Amelia. Ah.
The air hung thick like oil around them.