"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
When his smile falters, hers does the same. Thankfully, she's not left to wonder and conjure up scenarios to fill the silence for long.
“Oh.” She repeats in much the same tone he had used when uttering that single word.
Gone.
There’s no point in asking how or why - neither of those answers matters to her. She attempts to keep some of her expression neutral, but Vastra lost whatever social graces she might have had in childhood when she shifted into a lion and never looked back. She has regained something in the last few years but not enough. And yet the shift in her expression is obvious - this is disappointing.
She does not move, either forward or backward, as she takes in this news - as he takes another step. For a second, Vastra just looks at him, and she can feel herself teetering on the edge of something. One movement could send her falling either way. She feels a coil of anger and knows that’s on one side - and even though it’s more directed at herself for misunderstanding, she’s certainly capable of wielding it as a weapon against someone else.
“Well.” The word is carried on a soft sigh and then she grins in a manner almost feline. Now she moves, but not away. She slips to the side of Svedka and, if he does not move, she would circle him before coming around the other side. “I had been hoping to collect a new scar today.” She stays close. Her head moves to close the gap between their bodies and the touch on his white and gold skin is light, as she takes another step. A brush of gentle lips on his withers before she stops when they are almost parallel, side by side.
With only a flash in her eyes as warning and deft quickness, on that same spot her lips had just been, she moves to bite him. Harder than necessary, but only just. Whether the strike lands or not, she remains where she is - her entire body feeling like it is coiled to spring, only moving her head so they can look at one another again. “If he is not around, perhaps I can find someone else to oblige.” Her voice is low and there’s a spark in her storming eyes that is more mischievous than angry. This is not the most dangerous game she has ever played but it is a game, isn’t it? She and Svedka had not spoken of anything but lions and shifting and then had gone a few years without seeing each other. She didn’t really know him at all - which, of course, had hardly stopped her in the past.
She’s made her move, and now which side of the knife they fall to will be up to him - and she's incredibly curious to see what will happen next.
