For relativeprompts
Prompt Three
She'd told him he wasn't welcome.
She'd lied through her teeth.
The face was different, the hair and the clothes and everything was different, of course, as regenerations do that and it'd been so very long but the eyes, more specifically the mind behind them--
It was the same. Ever the same.
She'd sneered, her lip curling into a shape she hadn't bothered with for centuries when it was another set of lips, a slightly different set, and her eyes had flattened with seeming irritation.
She'd looked him over.
Ever the weak chin, though she couldn't speak as her own was almost too severe, but covered well with a goatee that only accentuated the malevolent peaks and curves of his features. Lips that twisted as easily as hers did, as cruely as hers could. Eyes that shone, with madness and fervor and hunger and anger and all those emotions she had seen on a thousand faces but never so aptly as they did on him.
She'd told him to go so that he would stay. She'd ignored him with callous ease so that he would prod and poke and question. She'd snarled at him so that he would laugh at her. She'd let him take her things so that she had an excuse. She'd done what he asked so that it would feel like it used to.
The first time she saw Koschei again after her exile, it was like breathing. Without her pills, rough and difficult and easily remedied. And like taking her pills, she waited until the last moment.
And like taking her pills, she'd loathed him afterwards for making her feel weak in the first place.
She'd told him he wasn't welcome.
She'd lied through her teeth.
The face was different, the hair and the clothes and everything was different, of course, as regenerations do that and it'd been so very long but the eyes, more specifically the mind behind them--
It was the same. Ever the same.
She'd sneered, her lip curling into a shape she hadn't bothered with for centuries when it was another set of lips, a slightly different set, and her eyes had flattened with seeming irritation.
She'd looked him over.
Ever the weak chin, though she couldn't speak as her own was almost too severe, but covered well with a goatee that only accentuated the malevolent peaks and curves of his features. Lips that twisted as easily as hers did, as cruely as hers could. Eyes that shone, with madness and fervor and hunger and anger and all those emotions she had seen on a thousand faces but never so aptly as they did on him.
She'd told him to go so that he would stay. She'd ignored him with callous ease so that he would prod and poke and question. She'd snarled at him so that he would laugh at her. She'd let him take her things so that she had an excuse. She'd done what he asked so that it would feel like it used to.
The first time she saw Koschei again after her exile, it was like breathing. Without her pills, rough and difficult and easily remedied. And like taking her pills, she waited until the last moment.
And like taking her pills, she'd loathed him afterwards for making her feel weak in the first place.