"Yes." She says slowly. "Objectively, that is what happened."
Lia tries to think of a way to soften this, but she isn't sure what to do if he's upset about the most true thing she said. This man's pride cannot override what happened.
"I'm very quick, everyone's always said so. Obviously, you are as well to keep up, but you didn't catch me, so, yes, I outran you."
This doesn't seem to be helping matters at all. She tries to recalibrate.
"That is not what objectively happened," he barks back, abruptly thrusting his one hand the rest of the way into its glove.
"You ran, I gave chase. And if it weren't for that nonsense in the Weyrs, I would have—" He is shaking the second glove in her direction, strangling it in his fist with the wide cuff of leather flapping. Outran him! Pah! Had she not run them off a hillside and tumbled them down into an open rift, he'd have snatched her up, trussed her, and lugged her directly to the nearest farmhouse where he'd have paid a handsome stack of coins for the use of a dogcart and whatever animal was fit to pull it back to Seleny and the eager noose of the waiting hangman.
"You should be grateful," he spits, shaking loose the strangled glove. Stuffing his second hand into it. "That I've not cut off your hands and posted them direct to Nimus."
He gives the bag on the floor between them a disgusted look.
Lia lets out a little huff through her nose that is almost imperceptible. He is so annoying! It's not usually quite this difficult. She glances back at the bag. He doesn't want the money and is still upset. Only one thing for it--
She walks confidently toward Desi, getting a little too close, and holds out her wrists to him.
"Go on!" She says looking him right in the eyes. She tosses her head a little and her hair flutters.
She's considerably taller than he is. He has to tilt his face up to glare at her in the eye. Despite this, in short order:
His gloved hand claps down on her wrist, and he wrenches her in the direction of the room's little beside table. His spare hand produces his belt knife. Well, if she fucking insists—
Lia squeaks in surprise at the speed in which she is pulled downward to her knees. Her hands hit the bedside table with a crack.
It's not a disagreeable sensation being overtaken by this man and a familiar wild thrill bubbles inside her. Perhaps, she will let him go through with it. Perhaps--
The glint of the knife brings her back to her senses.
"Unhand me!" She shrieks. "Let me go, you scoundrel! What do you want from me?"
That last question comes out with unmasked frustration. What does he want?
With a decisive thump, he has pinned her hand to the top of the bedside table. Shriek louder, he thinks, and maybe Orlov will materialize—
"Stop your blubbering," he barks, grip on her wrist tightening. The knife in his offhand is hefted for hacking. "You said to do it. I'm indulging you."
Lia's eyes widen as she recognizes this man isn't backing down. She tries to wriggle away as best she can, but somehow this man has trapped her. There's no way out.
"Oh, now you indulge me!" She spits out. "My kindness, my repaying more than what I owe, that you ignore. However, hacking off my limbs you're happy to oblige."
Her eyes flick around her trying to find something, anything, to defend herself with. There's nothing. It's almost as if Desi keeps his room clear of these things on purpose.
"You're incorrigible, you're as cruel as the demons that slapped these anchors on us, and I cannot stand you!"
Despite her words, she goes for the only move she has left after a calculated assessment: She kisses him.
He only has the one hand tightly in his control. The other may do what it pleases and it occurs to him when she lunges in his direction that this may have been an error in calculation. Perhaps she has a knife hidden somewhere on her person as well, and will now drive it between the ribs or somewhere equally unpleasant, and he will be left here to bleed on the floor of this nasty little room. His monk of a neighbor could take weeks to find him. What a fine end that would be.
He has only managed to jerk instinctively back by a half measure by the time her mouth finds his. His knee clips the little side cabinet hard, rattling it.
When Desidério jerks the rest of the way back, it comes with the turn of the knife point. It kisses her back: an extra fine touch there at the soft underside of her throat, ready to ruin with little more than a flicked wrist.
"Now you listen closely here," he says, some of that obstinate terrier snarling quality in him turned mercurial and cool. "I don't want your apologies. I don't want your dirty money. If you want to protect your shit reputation, you discuss the matter with whoever is minding you here. The Seneschal, or the Scoutmaster. I'm sure they would happily assist you in your reformation and seeing the matter between you and Nimus settled."
The knife point is very steady. He has a sure hand. His other hand, meanwhile, remains pinning her wrist.
"If you come to me in this room again, I swear to you that you'll not leave it with both your hands again. Understood?"
Lia's mouth is slightly open and she barely registers the knife at her throat. She may very well be in danger, but her mind is entirely flooded with confusion. This has simply never not worked before. Could she have done it wrongly? That seems impossible.
She looks into Desi's face, he appears quite genuinely angry and at once, the knife makes itself known to her and so does his hand firmly on her wrist. She gasps in offense, but doesn't move away. She's still too surprised.
"No." She responds in genuine wonder. "I do not understand. Do you not like women?"
He releases her wrist at the same time one of those recently booted feet gives her a thumping kick to the side of the thigh. It's a toppling kind of blow more than it is forceful, meant to knock her away from him and the knife point both. If she bruises her bony ass on the way, then it's what she deserves.
"Out!" Barked, gesturing to the door with a jerk of the knife.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Yes." She says slowly. "Objectively, that is what happened."
Lia tries to think of a way to soften this, but she isn't sure what to do if he's upset about the most true thing she said. This man's pride cannot override what happened.
"I'm very quick, everyone's always said so. Obviously, you are as well to keep up, but you didn't catch me, so, yes, I outran you."
This doesn't seem to be helping matters at all. She tries to recalibrate.
"I do regret it now if it's any consolation."
Still, the bag just sits there.
no subject
"You ran, I gave chase. And if it weren't for that nonsense in the Weyrs, I would have—" He is shaking the second glove in her direction, strangling it in his fist with the wide cuff of leather flapping. Outran him! Pah! Had she not run them off a hillside and tumbled them down into an open rift, he'd have snatched her up, trussed her, and lugged her directly to the nearest farmhouse where he'd have paid a handsome stack of coins for the use of a dogcart and whatever animal was fit to pull it back to Seleny and the eager noose of the waiting hangman.
"You should be grateful," he spits, shaking loose the strangled glove. Stuffing his second hand into it. "That I've not cut off your hands and posted them direct to Nimus."
He gives the bag on the floor between them a disgusted look.
"Keep your money."
no subject
She walks confidently toward Desi, getting a little too close, and holds out her wrists to him.
"Go on!" She says looking him right in the eyes. She tosses her head a little and her hair flutters.
no subject
His gloved hand claps down on her wrist, and he wrenches her in the direction of the room's little beside table. His spare hand produces his belt knife. Well, if she fucking insists—
no subject
It's not a disagreeable sensation being overtaken by this man and a familiar wild thrill bubbles inside her. Perhaps, she will let him go through with it. Perhaps--
The glint of the knife brings her back to her senses.
"Unhand me!" She shrieks. "Let me go, you scoundrel! What do you want from me?"
That last question comes out with unmasked frustration. What does he want?
no subject
"Stop your blubbering," he barks, grip on her wrist tightening. The knife in his offhand is hefted for hacking. "You said to do it. I'm indulging you."
no subject
"Oh, now you indulge me!" She spits out. "My kindness, my repaying more than what I owe, that you ignore. However, hacking off my limbs you're happy to oblige."
Her eyes flick around her trying to find something, anything, to defend herself with. There's nothing. It's almost as if Desi keeps his room clear of these things on purpose.
"You're incorrigible, you're as cruel as the demons that slapped these anchors on us, and I cannot stand you!"
Despite her words, she goes for the only move she has left after a calculated assessment: She kisses him.
no subject
He has only managed to jerk instinctively back by a half measure by the time her mouth finds his. His knee clips the little side cabinet hard, rattling it.
When Desidério jerks the rest of the way back, it comes with the turn of the knife point. It kisses her back: an extra fine touch there at the soft underside of her throat, ready to ruin with little more than a flicked wrist.
"Now you listen closely here," he says, some of that obstinate terrier snarling quality in him turned mercurial and cool. "I don't want your apologies. I don't want your dirty money. If you want to protect your shit reputation, you discuss the matter with whoever is minding you here. The Seneschal, or the Scoutmaster. I'm sure they would happily assist you in your reformation and seeing the matter between you and Nimus settled."
The knife point is very steady. He has a sure hand. His other hand, meanwhile, remains pinning her wrist.
"If you come to me in this room again, I swear to you that you'll not leave it with both your hands again. Understood?"
no subject
Lia's mouth is slightly open and she barely registers the knife at her throat. She may very well be in danger, but her mind is entirely flooded with confusion. This has simply never not worked before. Could she have done it wrongly? That seems impossible.
She looks into Desi's face, he appears quite genuinely angry and at once, the knife makes itself known to her and so does his hand firmly on her wrist. She gasps in offense, but doesn't move away. She's still too surprised.
"No." She responds in genuine wonder. "I do not understand. Do you not like women?"
no subject
He releases her wrist at the same time one of those recently booted feet gives her a thumping kick to the side of the thigh. It's a toppling kind of blow more than it is forceful, meant to knock her away from him and the knife point both. If she bruises her bony ass on the way, then it's what she deserves.
"Out!" Barked, gesturing to the door with a jerk of the knife.