[/html]Kids these days. So fancy.
In spite of her father's words, Cassandra was nearly always judging. She judged others the moment she detected them in the distance, the moment they came into view. She saw and she judged. The ways of loners wandering through the woods was one of anarchy and mind games. Seeing, knowing, and judging accurately kept her ahead of those that would use her. The subtleties of body language, scent, tone of voice, and general demeanor was integral to their society at large, but Cassandra was perceptive, and she discriminated indiscriminately.
And so of course, she judged the sandy-colored woman with her pale red eyes; the line of her mouth was thin and flat, scowl softened for mockery. But here what she saw plainly and objectively was clouded by her emotions. She knew this, and ignored it pointedly. "Myrika is naive, sometimes," the albino said simply, perhaps coldly. "I believe that she believes, is all."
She tilted her own head a little when Vesper's hand reached for her throat, trying to decipher every inflection and making a show of understanding. She recognized the rosary for what it was, but knew too, but tucked its possible significance away. "The comparison was a fool girl," Cassandra smiled thinly. "And the only thing you've got on the fool that I can see is that you can see Myrika for what she's worth." Her gaze bore into the other's, clearly uncaring of her position and rank. "I would assume most here do though. So what do you think Myrika sees in you?"
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