[He hears it all in her voice, sees it in her manners, but he pays no mind. For all the tyranny he has brought upon this house, he has refrained from dictating how the few survivors should behave. It was made clear he would tolerate no disloyalty, however, even if only in the number of cadavers buried around the house. So long as Qetzi'ah allows him to be King, he will allow her to be annoyed all she wants.
Haran trusts that Brandon will pick up on it very quickly. Qetzi does like to talk.]
Have you seen the boy? The young wizard I invited to our house?
[Saying 'our' to her is nothing more than a favor, even if it is also the truth.]
[ She lifts an eyebrow irritably. To call it 'our house' was insulting on multiple levels, first that he would even feign that he acknowledged her, and then there was always his audacity to think he could claim the House at all. It was not a spirit to be claimed by men, and it was ugly and crude of him to think otherwise. Rage churns in her belly, and she imagines the inevitable day when the House will devour him.
Fey thoughts dance in her head of reaching out here and now and ripping out his throat with sharply filed nails.
She rubs the faerie ring on her finger, it is a double edged sword. Its magic makes it harder to control herself, but its powers at least keep her bloodlust from being noticed. ]
I did.
[ She responds tersely, looking away from him. It comes across as merely another gesture of her impatience with him, a ruse while she untangles her wild and vengeful thoughts. ]
[His smile stretches, of course, because he delights himself in knowing there's hatred between family that said family does nothing about. Qetzi is too smart to follow the same path her relatives did, after all, because she paid mind to other things while Haran went on his rampage. Now he seems to be all there is - and the House, of course.]
It would seem so, wouldn't it. [A lamb is always a good metaphor. Harmless but useful, irritating once they're in the way and easily killed off.] He wants to know our secrets. To bring them back to his masters. [A ridiculous objective, which is most likely why Haran has accepted to entertain it.] He brings curious gifts in return.
[ She squints at Haran with mistrust. Would he lie to her over such a thing? Or does he find the magician entertaining and is trying to draw her into this silly game. She purses her lips trying not to blurt out the words that whirl through her head, but then out they come, ]
So you're dangling a prize before him that isn't yours to give.
[ He's bored. She seethes. If he is so bored he should take his leave from her House and allow her to get on with the work of reconstructing what he has ruined. She hates him. She almost prays that the pathetic magus boy somehow tricks this bastard and robs him of all of this. She would almost rather a stranger have the Hill than this treacherous demon spawn. ]
[A light, provocative shrug. There is nothing wrong about what she says - the hyenas did have a taste for their own family members. A special treat from Haran every time he came over with a new dead one.]
You bring such nice flowers to this house. Can't you just say nice things?
[He pauses for just a moment of thought, dramatically bringing a finger to his chin, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. She does have a lovely voice that comes even more alive when she recites those poems. It's easy to guess that she would not pick things too close to her heart, though. No, those are reserved for people she likes.
Her precious faeries, he imagines.]
Yes. You will read it to me, and to the boy. Tonight, after dinner.
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[He hears it all in her voice, sees it in her manners, but he pays no mind. For all the tyranny he has brought upon this house, he has refrained from dictating how the few survivors should behave. It was made clear he would tolerate no disloyalty, however, even if only in the number of cadavers buried around the house. So long as Qetzi'ah allows him to be King, he will allow her to be annoyed all she wants.
Haran trusts that Brandon will pick up on it very quickly. Qetzi does like to talk.]
Have you seen the boy? The young wizard I invited to our house?
[Saying 'our' to her is nothing more than a favor, even if it is also the truth.]
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Fey thoughts dance in her head of reaching out here and now and ripping out his throat with sharply filed nails.
She rubs the faerie ring on her finger, it is a double edged sword. Its magic makes it harder to control herself, but its powers at least keep her bloodlust from being noticed. ]
I did.
[ She responds tersely, looking away from him. It comes across as merely another gesture of her impatience with him, a ruse while she untangles her wild and vengeful thoughts. ]
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And how did you find him.
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[ He dipped his head and he called her a Mistress and offered her gifts, how much more well-behaved could he possibly be. ]
What is it he claims to want?
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So you're dangling a prize before him that isn't yours to give.
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What isn't mine to give?
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The Hill is no secret. You feed it what it craves, nothing more, nothing less.
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So I'll feed It the wizard. If that's what It wants.
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Why the delay.
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I'm bored. He entertains me, and he has interesting gifts. It is what I want.
[Bbbbrrrraaaatttt.]
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Whatever you say, Haran.
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Don't say that.
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[ All pretense is tumbling away from her, like a shedding of dead leaves and she cannot clutch them back to her fast enough. ]
You'll do as you will and if I truly impede you, you will feed me to the hyenas.
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You bring such nice flowers to this house. Can't you just say nice things?
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Shall I read you poetry then?
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Her precious faeries, he imagines.]
Yes. You will read it to me, and to the boy. Tonight, after dinner.
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And then she turns on heel and leaves the room. ]