WC: 875
His expression had barely changed; a mere snort to show is unsurprising distaste to the outsider’s lifestyle, before the subject moved onto apparently more pressing matters. As Cotl spoke of moving into the mansion, those emerald coals lit up, more amused than anything else. Lucia had not considered such a thing, all that had crossed paths with her warped mentality was shelter for the time being - a night or two at most. She would create home only where her lover lay, and though she had not seen him for days now, she assumed that work had gotten the better of him. He’d be back, that is all she would say on the matter. Paranoia lurked too close to that playing grounds, thus mingling in such affairs would cause peril indeed. Listening to the so-called rules which came with staying in the semi-derelict household, a small smile curled itself over Lucia’s darkened lips. Watching Cotl carefully, his body language closed and distant, the outsider nodded respectively toward the coyote, responding as best she could, being the lack of actually wanting to move into the household long-term. “You don’t have to be concerned about rules, and all that jazz,” she paused, toying with the idea of allowing her gaze to wander. It did not, it stayed fixated on the resident of the household, trying to catch a glimpse of his soul – masks were everyone’s best friends. “I wish to simply rest for the night, perhaps until tomorrow evening – my home is elsewhere.”
She hadn’t really understood why those words passed over her tongue. Honest to herself, she had little to call home. Whether she had the title of this clan or not, it wasn’t a true home. She could do their biddings, she could love her lover, and she could fight in their colours, but it wasn’t home. Deep down, it was not a place for her – a wolf like her. She did not belong, and the more it ate away at her, the more she chose to ignore it. Snake was worth the sacrifice, and whenever they would cross paths again, she would remind him of that. Decision made.
Finally, Cotl had moved. Her malachite eyes had watched him move the chair nearer to her, and as he sat before her, the ebony female almost felt uncomfortable. It was a strange feeling – the semi-civility of a coyote. Well, the civility of anyone to be honest. Lucia had little trust in the world; she had little belief in karma, or justice. There was no justice for anyone, especially ones like her. Fiddling momentarily, her fingers twisting around each other, she let her gaze fall over the fireplace. The engravings placed on the woodwork were worn down and weathered. Lucia guessed that in its day, the house showed royalty, magnificence – the place to be. But now, well, bar the seemingly excellent company, this house had nothing more to offer. It was dead inside, just like her.
“Don’t worry,” she purred comfortingly, her coals falling back over the seating male. There was clearly a warning in his words, though the message momentary distorted by the outburst. Lucia had seen a similar affliction once before, a gypsy who she had exchanged tales with before coming to Nova Scotia. It did not faze her, nor bother her, though she suspected many could have responded harshly to Cotl in the past. Parting her maw, canines peeking from her ebony lips, shimmering in the firelight, her words came into reality again; still that same comforting tone. Kindness could go a long way, sometimes. It was wishful thinking that made her play that card this time around. “I won’t hurt your horse. It is not my place to strike another’s friend.”
In her head it had sounded perfectly fine, but as her own words filtered through her obsidian auds, the female felt herself scoff. It almost sounded ridiculous, like she was some sort of gypsy. That couldn’t be more wrong. The blood lust in Lucia ran deep, her warrior instincts battling constantly with her sanity. She was a killer in history, which was a secret she would bury with her corpse. There were things about the dark outsider that even she didn’t know, and that made her blood run cold. Lucia, lost in thought, shivered – her mind running back over the events with Daisuke once more. She snarled to herself, quiet and murmured, before, like a saint with perfect timing, Cotl spoke again. Forced away from the abyss of madness, Lucia’s ivy eyes shone over Cotl gratefully, though her expression pained and disturbing. She harboured many secrets, many afflictions. Some even unbeknown to her.
“Hm? Oh,” it took a moment to register the question. Lucia was clearly distressed about something, it was eating her alive. “Yes, I do,” she finally answered, pulling herself together, and wiping away everything with a calm, sane smile. It had been a while, but she would welcome any sort of pick-me-up. He was a saint, it seemed. Lucia’s appreciation would not be displayed in words, but simply a smile. “I assume you do? Although, I do not have anything on me,” she bit her lip nervously, and dropped her gaze, she was hiding something. “…Well, except for cocaine?”