"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
It is both disappointing and comforting to know that Svedka did not remember how their conversation ended. Vastra had, at the time, been completely sidetracked from what she had proposed - being a teacher that could help him remain in control while in a shift. And then years had passed and she was only just following up. She said she could teach him, she never said she would be particularly adept at it.
Her head tilts slightly to the side and a fond note weaves through her words as she recalls their last meeting. “Let’s just say our last conversation ended in blood on both sides. It was quite fun.” Vastra decides against going into details, thinking they might hurt more than help in this situation. But she hopes at least to assure him that she had not been daunted by the lion, had not been afraid.
When he responds to her jest with coy words, she nods. “I’ve never been good at small talk, that’s true.” She cannot decide whether she’s more annoyed that he can read her so well or that his charms appear to be working on her. It helps, though, that she’s seen the creature that hides in his heart and has tasted its blood and felt the thrill of it drawing her own. This shell of charm and wit is just something she has to deal with in order to get back to what she wants.
Not that she wasn’t enjoying this just a little bit, though.
“Well, Svedka, I said you propositioned me. I didn’t say I was opposed.” And now Vastra takes a small step forward, playing at the game. Her grin is not as obvious as his - it’s a glint in those storm-grey eyes that are focused on him. A predator’s gaze even in equine form.
