(Untitled)

[hands_unclean]

She is a glamorous woman, standing in the open door with a jacket draped over one arm. Patent leather high heels, small waist above an A-line skirt, silk blouse that's sensual but also approachable. Appropriate for communicating on satellite TV

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[cutting_edgex23]

X is not a queen, but she has killed lords and kings enough in her time.

Warlords, at least, and drug kingpins.

It is a good living.

At the moment, however, there is a sixteen-year-old girl looking at the Lady, head tilted just slightly, and nostrils flared.

Does she smell of the Milliways dead?

That is a very good question.

[hands_unclean]

She smells of something, but it is not alive. She is dead in her own world, alive and of the Dark in another. Leave it to this beast-girl to work out for her own.

Lady Macbeth lifts an eyebrow at the impudent stare, and does not wilt in its face.

"Child, you look perturbed," she remarks, pausing long enough to convey a faint disdain for such things.

[cutting_edgex23]

X is silent for another few moments, assessing the situation.

Then--

"You do not smell right."

[hands_unclean]

That earns a smile.

"I have known much worse in my time. When you have lived with the country of my birth, far removed in miles and years from yours, I'll wager, then speak to me of uncommon smells."

[cutting_edgex23]

X's expression does not waver.

"Why?"

[hands_unclean]

"Because hygiene and public sanitation did not occur to mortal men until much, much too late for me to enjoy them. That is a blessing I count every day."

Quite: her red nails are perfectly manicured, and her skin has that L.A. spa glow.

[cutting_edgex23]

"Oh."

Beat.

"You have never been to Africa."

Or anywhere in the Third World, probably.

[hands_unclean]

"I have been to eleventh-century Scotland. I believe that puts me in good authority to speak."

[cutting_edgex23]

X is silent for a moment.

"I have been to Africa. Many times."

She also has good authority to speak.

[hands_unclean]

One well-heeled shoe swivels. "Well, as they say, bully for you."

[cutting_edgex23]

X tilts her head slightly.

"I am not a bully."

[hands_unclean]

She scoffs. "Faith, you are not an orator either."

[cutting_edgex23]

"No."

Beat.

"I am a weapon."

[hands_unclean]

"Indeed, you are taciturn as a soldier. My husband was not half so grim as you, little blade."

[cutting_edgex23]

"Okay."

Beat.

"Was?"

[hands_unclean]

"That is how one speaks of the dead. Should you not know this, as a weapon charged with making people so?"