[P] river of champagne

[Hagar]

HAGAR IESHAN

i hug the world
suffocate it with a pillow

T

his will be fun, I think.
She is thinking very hard, I can tell; not because I know her, because I do not. There is no part of me that watches her with anything more than an almost venomous joy. I am not prying, or reading the lines of her face, or trying very hard at all to transcribe what each twitch of a muscle or dilation of a pupil means in the grand story of Isabella Foster.

I can tell because it is unmistakable, on her face or any other. That is how hard she's thinking, I believe. And I watch her do it. I want to know why, with grabby little hands and less patience than a princess should have, I'm very sure. I want to know why I want, just as badly as I do, to see myself through her eyes, just for a second.

I'm sure it is because of the way she looks at me, like she's drowning. It does not happen as often as I'd like. I am still busy wondering, still busy thinking, myself, when she speaks. My brows raise. I had not expected that from her.

(This must be what Pilate feels like, with his men, and his discernment, and a stack of expectations to which no one ever quite measures up. I smile because I think if he saw this, a Terrastellan noble kicking some poor, foolish man while he was down, he would have been apalled.)

"Goodness," I say. I am smiling. Why am I smiling? "That was quite the statement. Tell me, Biz, do you often make a point of verbally castrating strangers in their own country, or is this a new hobby of yours?" I watch him go. For a moment I am almost sad, though I myself sent him way. The winter air feels cold like it should. It is crisp and stings the inside of my nose when I inhale. I am cold, too. And surprisingly empty.

And then it is gone. I look back at her as kindly as I can, the gold of my eyes warm, but not molten, the soft pink of my muzzle reaching out to touch the off white skin of her shoulder. It is warmer than I am. I think, warmer than I have ever been. She is staring at me, again. I stare back, politely. Composed. As if I am no more than some girl, at a party.

Of course, I am so much more. But it would be rude to say so.
"Never! Then I dare you to lie."
My smile grows into a grin.

"Let's hear it."

@Isabella