Kings of the castle

[Oriena]

She felt none of it. Saw none of it. Bar the consequences, of course. That, and the expression on Jaxen’s face. He withdrew, which at first plucked a chord of disappointment in her chest. A sigh swelled her lungs, igniting the first flames of disinterest. Beneath her veneer of spite was a playful nature, if not exactly harmless; she had scant patience for those who misunderstood her games for malice –which was most people. Ori expected retaliation; it was the point of provocation.

The fact Jaxen remained so oddly transfixed was the only thing that held her gaze the moment his feet inched off the table. It was like the cold touch had done more than make him jump; it had shaken something loose. Caution flashed then burned quickly away, soothed by the power coursing her own veins. Steeped in self-assurance, her posture relaxed, and she watched, unsure whether to be curious or unimpressed. He might have slipped from existence altogether, for all the attention he paid anything beyond the line of his gaze, but she had the distinct impression the battle was internal. Which meant, what?

Not the reaction she had been expecting

And then the bucket had flown, showering ice like diamonds.

It rearranged everything she thought she’d known - definitive proof of supernatural forces beyond her senses. A chill spiked her flesh, though it was a breath of anticipation rather than fear. The temptation of the unknown beckoned a finger she was hard pressed to ignore, particularly when it bore such a sinful face.

Jaxen looked far too interested in the consequences of his own actions to speak of familiarity with the forces he controlled. It meant he was unpredictable. Dangerous. Ori might habitually throw caution to the wind, but she did at least acknowledge it if necessary. When Cara had “sparked” - her words - she had killed a man. Her father, to be precise. Unintentionally, by her account. But dead was still dead, and Ori couldn’t even tell when Jaxen submitted to his gift, let alone what he tried to do with it. She’d done enough of her own experimenting to comprehend how easily intention went awry when manipulating those cords of power.

Really the sort of man she wanted to go home with?

Presented with the power offered in an open palm, she was apt to toy. A smile tugged a faint tease at her lips, like she was deliberating the temptation with devilish attention to imagination’s detail. He’d be wrong to expect docility. She didn’t take his hand, though she did stand. Long legs and decent heels brought her almost eye-level, and she hovered intimately close. Her thumb traced a trail against his hip, then snagged in a belt-loop not unlike on stage earlier. "Yeah."
One playful tug, and then she let go. Her proximity eased, and a smile curled like smoke as she turned to head for the door, whether he chose to follow or not.