Drabble: On the Boat
'Wonderful work against Marfellow in the end-game,' he remarks creakily as he sets up the board. What? Is Death a fan of yours?
"You again! Couldn't stay away, eh?"
Eris slowly pushes herself up off the bottom of the boat, wincing with the effort, her struggles barely even rocking the other passengers. They sit, staring off into the waters - it seems there aren't any lively ones, this time. She shoves herself into a seat, opposite the skeletal grin of her most frequent chess-partner.
"Did you miss me? Well, you're the only one that does, you know," she says, moving a pawn two spaces forward - a standard opening gambit, which she hopes will put him at ease for a lazy win. She'll show him, this time.
"What was it this time?"
She shakes her head, pressing a hand against her ribs where there's a ghosting of pain - all in her mind, as her hands come away with no blood. "Someone I thought was a friend...well. Maybe I should be more selective, again. I never thought..." She shrugs. "It's not as if he was quite himself."
He takes a rook, and a knight, in rapid sucession - but she pays him back quickly, with a pawn on the opposite side of his board.
"Can't say I mind that you're here."
She huffs a breath through her nose, pushing absently against her glass eye. It's not as if he minds. It's not as if he just eradicated half of her pawns. "Can I stay? For a while? I don't think I want to go back, just yet. It's not as if you'll beat me to the far shore, you know," she says, risking a glance over. Does she recognize any of those figures on the banks? Does she care?
"You know how it works."
"I dressed as you, for Hallow's Eve," she says, setting the pieces on the board again. "Sometimes, I think I'd stay here, if I could. It's so calm. Nothing like London. You and I could play chess forever."
And then he takes her bishop. Tricky bastard.