(no subject)
"How did he know?"
White with rage, Lanfear storms in, hauling Shelley up from her half-sleep on rough weaves of air. The room has turned icy since she had set the controls before leaving, and the child shivers in just her shift, wincing as the sudden motion pulls hard on bruised, welted skin. The Chosen reaches forward to lift up her chin.
"There was no way either he or Semirhage could have seen my weaves. So either he truly believed he was killing you, or there was some signal that you failed to tell me. Which?"
Shaking as her feet scrabble just above the floor, Shelley stares. He killed the other girl who-? Of all things, there is a stab of guilt for her, sacrificed simply because she was close to her size and had reddish hair. But the moment of pity is cut swiftly short when Lanfear, impatient and furious, slaps her. Grimacing as if in distaste at touching her, she swings briefly away, leaving the smaller woman supported by the invisible bindings before looking back and weaving Compulsion.
"Tell me which it was, Shelley."
The girl stares back at her, throat tight with adoration and misery that she cannot tell her what she wants to know.
"I- I don't know. There was no signal. Not from me."
The Chosen narrows her eyes. "Why would he want to kill you when he believed you were about to be returned to him?"
-- Cause me a great deal of trouble by talking out of turn with the other Chosen present --
Desperate to answer, the girl opens her mouth, but a viciously fast tightening sensation grips her, and for a few moments she is barely able to breathe before the Compulsion is dropped and she hangs limp, gasping for air.
Lanfear watches coldly. The little girl is not broken, she well knows by now. She is harder than she seems - would have to be, to survive Ishamael - and her physical weakness means little while she has value alive. He cannot trace here here, surely. Not so fast. But with such strong mental blocks, she needs more time than she has to extract any worthwhile information. As Shelley raises her head to stare with hatred in her tearful eyes, the Chosen considers simply killing her - definitely the easiest path, and most satisfying, given the trouble she has caused. But that would render the entire venture unprofitable, and now her original plan has failed, she is determined to gain something.
And she will. One way or another. Binding the girl's hands behind her back, she spins a portal.
"Come along, Shelley."
White with rage, Lanfear storms in, hauling Shelley up from her half-sleep on rough weaves of air. The room has turned icy since she had set the controls before leaving, and the child shivers in just her shift, wincing as the sudden motion pulls hard on bruised, welted skin. The Chosen reaches forward to lift up her chin.
"There was no way either he or Semirhage could have seen my weaves. So either he truly believed he was killing you, or there was some signal that you failed to tell me. Which?"
Shaking as her feet scrabble just above the floor, Shelley stares. He killed the other girl who-? Of all things, there is a stab of guilt for her, sacrificed simply because she was close to her size and had reddish hair. But the moment of pity is cut swiftly short when Lanfear, impatient and furious, slaps her. Grimacing as if in distaste at touching her, she swings briefly away, leaving the smaller woman supported by the invisible bindings before looking back and weaving Compulsion.
"Tell me which it was, Shelley."
The girl stares back at her, throat tight with adoration and misery that she cannot tell her what she wants to know.
"I- I don't know. There was no signal. Not from me."
The Chosen narrows her eyes. "Why would he want to kill you when he believed you were about to be returned to him?"
-- Cause me a great deal of trouble by talking out of turn with the other Chosen present --
Desperate to answer, the girl opens her mouth, but a viciously fast tightening sensation grips her, and for a few moments she is barely able to breathe before the Compulsion is dropped and she hangs limp, gasping for air.
Lanfear watches coldly. The little girl is not broken, she well knows by now. She is harder than she seems - would have to be, to survive Ishamael - and her physical weakness means little while she has value alive. He cannot trace here here, surely. Not so fast. But with such strong mental blocks, she needs more time than she has to extract any worthwhile information. As Shelley raises her head to stare with hatred in her tearful eyes, the Chosen considers simply killing her - definitely the easiest path, and most satisfying, given the trouble she has caused. But that would render the entire venture unprofitable, and now her original plan has failed, she is determined to gain something.
And she will. One way or another. Binding the girl's hands behind her back, she spins a portal.
"Come along, Shelley."