Eternity RPC Board
10-11-2019, 04:30 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-25-2019, 04:37 PM by Seperallis.)
The girl’s panicked query cut off as the witch laughed...or rather more like a cackle so deep at the accusation of imprisonment that her chair groaned and popped as she fell against its backing for support, as much as her hunch allowed. Nevina, for her part, remained unmoved against either concern or laugh as a cocked eyebrow glared after her former tutor in anticipation of an answer.
“Prison!” The crone managed to work out her words between the fits and starts of amusement. “Oh! You were of course rather slow as a child, yes, but a prison...oh! Nevvy!”
“That is rather enough of ‘Oh Nevvy,’ Mildred. We are far too many years removed for that.”
Nevina’s deadpan delivery cut through the crone’s laughter, which died weakly before she took a deeply satisfying breath and returned her attention to her tea with a grin. “Heh-hm...you were never imprisoned, Nevina.”
“I was.”
“You could, and did, come and go as you pleased. There was no prison.”
“A cage is not requisite to a prison.”
“Not for some, no,” the witch stated with a matter of fact, “but there was no prison.”
Nevina’s brow furrowed over the course of the exchange, but now only half so much in annoyance as perplexity. Mildred, between them both, seemed incapable of betraying her own thoughts; though she freely emoted with a smile here or a wink there, it all felt like habits that had long outlived any source, a woman vainly drawing from the pump of an empty spring rather out of habit than any hope or expectation of an outcome. Sarcasm might be universal, but whether to take it with joy, malice, truth or deception? The woman put her emotives forward like an open book with no pages, which only reinforced the long list of reasons the elf had to distrust her.
“I had forgotten how insufferable you are.”
Millie gave forth another habitual chortle as she flamboyantly waved a hand in salute of her hovel, the motion uncovering her spindly, raven-feathered arm. “Comes with the home, my dear! Or maybe just the age, and the solitude.”
“You should have told me instead of wasting my entire childhood with a ‘lesson.’” Nevina shook her head in some notion of disbelief.
“It was a good lesson,” Millie nodded, still wafting her tea, “and one I truly thought you would have learned sooner!”
“Are you still practicing for Veohr?”
Nevina’s abrupt change of subject - rather flatly tired of addressing a topic going nowhere - nearly cut off the witch, who paid it little mind as she addressed Elke directly, “Did I already mention she made that lovely garden trap you passed through to get here? Oh you should see it in the daytime to appreciate the irony.”
“Prison!” The crone managed to work out her words between the fits and starts of amusement. “Oh! You were of course rather slow as a child, yes, but a prison...oh! Nevvy!”
“That is rather enough of ‘Oh Nevvy,’ Mildred. We are far too many years removed for that.”
Nevina’s deadpan delivery cut through the crone’s laughter, which died weakly before she took a deeply satisfying breath and returned her attention to her tea with a grin. “Heh-hm...you were never imprisoned, Nevina.”
“I was.”
“You could, and did, come and go as you pleased. There was no prison.”
“A cage is not requisite to a prison.”
“Not for some, no,” the witch stated with a matter of fact, “but there was no prison.”
Nevina’s brow furrowed over the course of the exchange, but now only half so much in annoyance as perplexity. Mildred, between them both, seemed incapable of betraying her own thoughts; though she freely emoted with a smile here or a wink there, it all felt like habits that had long outlived any source, a woman vainly drawing from the pump of an empty spring rather out of habit than any hope or expectation of an outcome. Sarcasm might be universal, but whether to take it with joy, malice, truth or deception? The woman put her emotives forward like an open book with no pages, which only reinforced the long list of reasons the elf had to distrust her.
“I had forgotten how insufferable you are.”
Millie gave forth another habitual chortle as she flamboyantly waved a hand in salute of her hovel, the motion uncovering her spindly, raven-feathered arm. “Comes with the home, my dear! Or maybe just the age, and the solitude.”
“You should have told me instead of wasting my entire childhood with a ‘lesson.’” Nevina shook her head in some notion of disbelief.
“It was a good lesson,” Millie nodded, still wafting her tea, “and one I truly thought you would have learned sooner!”
“Are you still practicing for Veohr?”
Nevina’s abrupt change of subject - rather flatly tired of addressing a topic going nowhere - nearly cut off the witch, who paid it little mind as she addressed Elke directly, “Did I already mention she made that lovely garden trap you passed through to get here? Oh you should see it in the daytime to appreciate the irony.”