[Se] Claimed
Se'ala stared at the comb on the table. Just a few feet away, almost close enough to reach out and take. She curled her fingers inward, closing her hands into fists, and tucked them behind her back.
How dare he? He called himself her friend, but she knew it wasn't true. All day she'd been waiting for him to make his move, to turn on her. She'd expected it when he said they should go to Silvermoon, to the cake shop. He'd looked at her clothes, told her to go put on something better.
You look like an ugly old beggar woman.
But he hadn't pressed the issue when she refused, and she kept waiting, waiting, waiting. She waited while they ate the frosted cakes. He asked if she wanted another.
Fat girl, pig girl. Eat more, piggy!
She told him no. He brought another anyway, but said nothing.
Then tonight. Tonight he'd come to find her, after she'd rested and washed the glittering dust of the elf city from herself. She had been sitting comfortably in a corner of the inn, curled around a mug of hot cider. He spoke a bit, asking how she'd liked the city. Still she waited. Then--
"Hey, I've got something for you, Se."
She tensed, both at the name and the easy way he reached into his pouch.
You look like a frog! Here! Kiss one!
It was beautiful. A comb shaped like a spider, with even the fine hairs on the legs shown in perfect detail. Its little gem eyes glittered in the light from the fire.
"You don't like it?"
Her face darkened. It was some kind of trap. The thing was obviously worth more than anything she'd ever owned, and he wanted to give it away? To her? She wouldn't put herself in his debt. He wasn't a friend, he was just like the rest, and she would give him no power over her.
Still, she couldn't move her eyes away from it. She wondered what it would feel like in her hands, how it would look in her hair.
Like a wedding dress on a wild boar.
"I can't take it." She wasn't sure if she'd said it already. Violet shrugged, looking disappointed, and stood up to stretch his arms. He said something. She wasn't listening, though, and she looked away as he walked out of the inn, probably going somewhere to sleep. He was always sleeping.
When she looked back, she realized he had left the comb.
Slowly, slowly she rose and reached out to take it. The ivory felt smooth against her fingers, and it rested comfortably in the palm of her hand. She closed her hand around it, feeling the teeth, the spider's legs digging into her fingers. She should leave it here, or perhaps take it to keep safe and give it back to him when she saw him again.
He'd left it, though. He didn't really want it, just as he didn't really want her if she wasn't willing to go along with his little game, to play at being friends until he decided to turn on her and throw it all back in her face.
Finders keepers.
How dare he? He called himself her friend, but she knew it wasn't true. All day she'd been waiting for him to make his move, to turn on her. She'd expected it when he said they should go to Silvermoon, to the cake shop. He'd looked at her clothes, told her to go put on something better.
You look like an ugly old beggar woman.
But he hadn't pressed the issue when she refused, and she kept waiting, waiting, waiting. She waited while they ate the frosted cakes. He asked if she wanted another.
Fat girl, pig girl. Eat more, piggy!
She told him no. He brought another anyway, but said nothing.
Then tonight. Tonight he'd come to find her, after she'd rested and washed the glittering dust of the elf city from herself. She had been sitting comfortably in a corner of the inn, curled around a mug of hot cider. He spoke a bit, asking how she'd liked the city. Still she waited. Then--
"Hey, I've got something for you, Se."
She tensed, both at the name and the easy way he reached into his pouch.
You look like a frog! Here! Kiss one!
It was beautiful. A comb shaped like a spider, with even the fine hairs on the legs shown in perfect detail. Its little gem eyes glittered in the light from the fire.
"You don't like it?"
Her face darkened. It was some kind of trap. The thing was obviously worth more than anything she'd ever owned, and he wanted to give it away? To her? She wouldn't put herself in his debt. He wasn't a friend, he was just like the rest, and she would give him no power over her.
Still, she couldn't move her eyes away from it. She wondered what it would feel like in her hands, how it would look in her hair.
Like a wedding dress on a wild boar.
"I can't take it." She wasn't sure if she'd said it already. Violet shrugged, looking disappointed, and stood up to stretch his arms. He said something. She wasn't listening, though, and she looked away as he walked out of the inn, probably going somewhere to sleep. He was always sleeping.
When she looked back, she realized he had left the comb.
Slowly, slowly she rose and reached out to take it. The ivory felt smooth against her fingers, and it rested comfortably in the palm of her hand. She closed her hand around it, feeling the teeth, the spider's legs digging into her fingers. She should leave it here, or perhaps take it to keep safe and give it back to him when she saw him again.
He'd left it, though. He didn't really want it, just as he didn't really want her if she wasn't willing to go along with his little game, to play at being friends until he decided to turn on her and throw it all back in her face.
Finders keepers.