04-30-2014, 03:22 PM
She shook his -- Connor's -- hand firmly, though by now the smile had retreated behind the solemnity of her resting expression. He seemed pleased with the offer, and it vindicated the uncertainty with which she had breached superficial politeness to something that, for her, was more intimate. His smile was pleasant, his words courteous, and the contact gratefully ephemeral. Relief unburdened her shoulders. For now she was glad to have stepped over the line, but content to fall back into retreat after.
Darkness loomed in her peripheral. Elias' stare burned her skin, demanding attention like an ignored child. She had not intended to shun him, and did not really understand the vehemence with which he glowered at her. He had been the one to intrude upon her space in the first place, and she had not objected. Like her, he had seemed aloof from the idle conversation. But he looked her right in the eye as she offered her hand, like it made some fine point she was too ignorant to pick up on. No timidity shadowed her expression; her handshake contained strength, but not offence. He could glare all he liked.
Then Connor went and asked the question she was disinclined to answer - well, one of the questions she was disinclined to answer. Talk of home invited too much speculation into the life she led. Before Moscow she had not lived a double existence, as so many of the atharim did here; she had lived in shadows, a singular, hidden existence. No job, no partner, no hobbies. She did not laugh in coffee shops, take strolls in parks, enjoy frivolous shopping trips. Her family had been the bedrock to such a life, and she'd never pined after 'normality.' Here it was more difficult to fit in; she was no longer expected to traverse the front lines, though more often these days she did anyway, and the slots of time it had opened led to uncomfortable encounters such as this.
A wry smile lifted her lips, but it curled like smoke and was gone. "Not from here." A shrug accented the words, uncommitted to revealing more details. Instead she focussed on the stock - and safe - subject of weather. "I find the snow pleasant." And useful for tracking.
Darkness loomed in her peripheral. Elias' stare burned her skin, demanding attention like an ignored child. She had not intended to shun him, and did not really understand the vehemence with which he glowered at her. He had been the one to intrude upon her space in the first place, and she had not objected. Like her, he had seemed aloof from the idle conversation. But he looked her right in the eye as she offered her hand, like it made some fine point she was too ignorant to pick up on. No timidity shadowed her expression; her handshake contained strength, but not offence. He could glare all he liked.
Then Connor went and asked the question she was disinclined to answer - well, one of the questions she was disinclined to answer. Talk of home invited too much speculation into the life she led. Before Moscow she had not lived a double existence, as so many of the atharim did here; she had lived in shadows, a singular, hidden existence. No job, no partner, no hobbies. She did not laugh in coffee shops, take strolls in parks, enjoy frivolous shopping trips. Her family had been the bedrock to such a life, and she'd never pined after 'normality.' Here it was more difficult to fit in; she was no longer expected to traverse the front lines, though more often these days she did anyway, and the slots of time it had opened led to uncomfortable encounters such as this.
A wry smile lifted her lips, but it curled like smoke and was gone. "Not from here." A shrug accented the words, uncommitted to revealing more details. Instead she focussed on the stock - and safe - subject of weather. "I find the snow pleasant." And useful for tracking.