12-03-2013, 02:01 PM
Claire barked a laugh. "Yeah. I prefer to avoid it too."
Any normal person would. Although for the speed to advance, she considered the trade. But Tony was against it. She didn't think it was because he was trying to be withholding, especially after the heat of his last gaze. Men were fucking confusing. Just out with it!
She took a breath and squashed the rising impatience. So close to power and authority, yet it still seemed out of reach. What was this new proposal? Pain etched a woman deep, but fear just pissed her off.
Her brow narrowed considerably.
"I am most afraid of losing everyone I love."
Her answer bit sharper than she intended. The grief was still hot, and for Claire, fueled her fury.
"But as that has already happened, I suppose there is nothing left."
She sank into the cool leather and drifted through an imagination she voice aloud. Her tone cast a far-seeing gaze, as one who could see beyond the foothills of time and know exact details of the horizon in the infinite distance. "Everyone fears death. But that is not the event to grip my heart cold. Wiser souls fear everlasting torment; recompense for the evils they inflict in this life. But death is not my master. I refuse to scrape and writhe at his beckoning. Death should be grateful I give him the time of day."
Her fingers had snaked together in her lap, as some kitten toying with imaginary string. But it was her lips that coiled refusal for his advances. She didn't fear death. She would control it, if she had her way.
Long lashes blinked the mood away, and whatever transfixed Claire faded. She was not sitting astride some glorious seat, she was nestled in the folds of a black leather couch. The view did not sprawl green valleys, it was filled with the industrial design of Tony's place.
She turned back to him, and she shared a haunted sort of truth, twisted dry from her subconscious. "I suppose I fear the loss of all control over my destiny. To be completely and utterly powerless, and at the mercy of a grand design that sweeps us all away."
Deep words for such a young woman, but not so much for one whose foresight brought her to Moscow in the first place.
Any normal person would. Although for the speed to advance, she considered the trade. But Tony was against it. She didn't think it was because he was trying to be withholding, especially after the heat of his last gaze. Men were fucking confusing. Just out with it!
She took a breath and squashed the rising impatience. So close to power and authority, yet it still seemed out of reach. What was this new proposal? Pain etched a woman deep, but fear just pissed her off.
Her brow narrowed considerably.
"I am most afraid of losing everyone I love."
Her answer bit sharper than she intended. The grief was still hot, and for Claire, fueled her fury.
"But as that has already happened, I suppose there is nothing left."
She sank into the cool leather and drifted through an imagination she voice aloud. Her tone cast a far-seeing gaze, as one who could see beyond the foothills of time and know exact details of the horizon in the infinite distance. "Everyone fears death. But that is not the event to grip my heart cold. Wiser souls fear everlasting torment; recompense for the evils they inflict in this life. But death is not my master. I refuse to scrape and writhe at his beckoning. Death should be grateful I give him the time of day."
Her fingers had snaked together in her lap, as some kitten toying with imaginary string. But it was her lips that coiled refusal for his advances. She didn't fear death. She would control it, if she had her way.
Long lashes blinked the mood away, and whatever transfixed Claire faded. She was not sitting astride some glorious seat, she was nestled in the folds of a black leather couch. The view did not sprawl green valleys, it was filled with the industrial design of Tony's place.
She turned back to him, and she shared a haunted sort of truth, twisted dry from her subconscious. "I suppose I fear the loss of all control over my destiny. To be completely and utterly powerless, and at the mercy of a grand design that sweeps us all away."
Deep words for such a young woman, but not so much for one whose foresight brought her to Moscow in the first place.