[ ♔. kill your darlings ]

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxr[ reckless assassin ]xx[ twenty four ]
xxxxxxxl[ the heir of ash & fire ]xx[ location || dagenhart residence ]

"There is method behind the absolute chaos, it seems." she laughed, shrugging her shoulders briefly. "And you know how I feel about challenges," Rosalee raised her eyebrows twice in quick succession at the turncoat, laughing gently. Her face fell a little at his next set of words, her head shaking slowly and with purpose. "Your life? No no, that is a sacrifice I would never make, Petyr." His expression made way for a smile, her own returning at the sight. Rosie's features then held a bemused expression. "A word that can mean both that and what? How on earth do you tell the difference?" while it was difficult not to be knocked back, though instead of letting herself be shot down by it, she steeled herself and acted as though it were training. As something to learn from. It also helped that Petyr was so considerate. "So can I use c'est in place of both 'that is' and 'this is'?"

Petyr chuckled at the tap she gave his nose and the assassin crinkled up her nose at him. Rosie's jaw soon clenched though, recalling the time she'd first tapped him on the nose, only, she had a sponge in her hand and her mind wasn't fully aware at the time. Petyr had still chuckled, but it had held a sadder tune then it did now. She had to say, his happiness was something she'd never give up for the world. Her own orbs watched his gaze pause before slipping to the ground at their feet and Rosie was sure she had lost him. Only, he proved her wrong by taking ahold of her hand. Instinctively, her fingers entwined with his. "Just... just," Just what? She lost the words in her throat, unable to complete the sentence. Just do not doubt your ideas because of me, please? Her eyes fixed on a point in space that wasn't here nor there. "I do so in order to show my thanks for your companionship, my thanks for your love and loyalty." his eyes may have closed, but he still managed to convey those silent words of his. "I like to hear your opinions, do not hold them back for my sake," Rosalee's head turned to the side, angling her eyes and thoughts away from him. "Well, in my eyes you deserve so much more."

In all honestly, the assassin probably wasn't completely aware of the heart-stirring effect the gift had upon him. But, if the look in his tawny eyes was anything to go by, she had some inkling. It was as thought he lived in that one moment, left to marvel at the library as time ceased to exist around him. A little bubble where time could not touch him, where thoughts dissipated with a single breath and the world stopped turning. It was wonderful to watch Petyr's blissful expression, content to care for this library and make it his own. Rosie didn't want to disrupt the moment nor steal it from him. So she stood by his side, quietly, barely murmuring her words. "Pour tu, Petyr. C'est parce que je t'aime." her voice rose an octave, only slightly. "I would never dare give this honour to anyone else." Now, the assassin had a fair grasp of his personality to realise he hadn't fully told her what he said. Yet, Rosie didn't mind. He could be her mystery.

Rosalee grinned up at him, twisting a lock of her hair that had fallen from the braid around a finger. "Pourquoi merci," she chuckled, shoulders rolling with laugher. "While the spelling of your name may not be a French thing, your surname is and that is all that matters, my little valiant heart." she patted him on the arm, swaying lightly on her feet as she did so. He then proceeded to ask about her own, and Rosie pressed her lips together before responding. "It's, it is German," twirling her hand to encompass the room she spun in a circle, "as are a good handful of the books in this library." she glanced around one last time before turning back to him. Jusqu'à la fin, the promise they would both uphold until the end of their days. Rosie's hand ran through the back of his soft hair as he returned the kiss, the other arm wrapping itself around Petyr's neck when his hand came to rest on her back. Gently pulling him close had her intoxicated; with the ability to sense his rapid heartbeat -- her own matching suit. As with Petyr, Rosie was reluctant to pull away, even if her head was spinning and blood thrummed in her ears. And even then, she still held him close, her head falling back just enough to glance up at him with a smile.

[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( undercover turncoat )xx( dagenhart residence; the library )xx( twenty six )

"Though it doesn't seem quite so rational, a method does exist," he pointed out. Petyr shot her a glance just in time to see her expression, immediately breaking into laughter. "Fortunately, you have allowed me that. Though perhaps not the wisest thing of you to do." with those words, he winked to her with a wide grin. Offering her challenges simply because he knew she couldn't possibly turn them down. A look of worry cast over his face when he watched her smile fade, listening to her words in silence. Maybe not to her, but it was his life that he would give up freely and without question. Her life was worth far more than his, after all. A queen's heart over a knight's. But he said nothing, instead blinked and offered he his silent words of thanks. Her expression the changed, Petyr rolling his eyes in a playful manner. "Context. Context helps. But-- there are multiple words to express both what and that. It just depends on the sentence, which one you use." he nodded, watching as she took his words quite well-- a surprise to him, but he'd take it. "Oui. C'est une pomme. It is an apple, that is an apple, this is an apple."

Petyr had been trying desperately to forget about the day of his father's death-- the day Rosalee Dagenhart had nearly lost her life to the master assassin that had, at the time, only been known to the world as Cross. Lécuyer liked to retain the idea that Rosalee was invincible, that death was not a force that could claim her. Death could not have what was his. When she intertwined their fingers, he looked to her, eyebrows furrowing. "Just..? Rosie..." Where her words had trailed away, her eyes picked up and finished the thought. No. I promise I won't. He rested his hands on either sides of her face when he noticed that, though open, her eyes weren't seeing anything. "Rosalee, Rosie-- Please. Look at me. I love you, I would do anything for you, you know this. But I promise you..." he trailed off, his eyesight wandering between her left and right eyes, "no matter what's to come, I will never," another pause as the knight seemed to be battling mental insecurities, little voices telling him otherwise, "doubt myself in light of anything you give." You have my word. Petyr let his hands fall away from her cheeks, his chin lowering. "Well. Your thanks is kindly appreciated." he frowned as she turned her head away from him. "I already have so much more; I have you, don't I?"

His eyes watched her fingers as they toyed with the hair that had managed to free itself from her braid. "Je t'en prie," he responded with a nod and smile. In the air, he drew an acute e; just as there was one in his family name. "The accented e." Valiant heart. At that, his expression only seemed to brighten, the knight inhaling slowly as he felt his cheeks grow warm. "German?" his eyebrows raised in surprise. "The books are as well, ah..." he smiled, a thought forming in his mind in light of that information. "That is wonderful, then! Your name, family name, I really do adore it." Though almost unwilling to break the kiss, he did regardless, holding her close to him afterwards. "Thank you, for everything," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her eye.

[ sorry about the size aa ]

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxr[ reckless assassin ]xx[ twenty four ]
xxxxxxxl[ the heir of ash & fire ]xx[ location || dagenhart residence ]

After a moment of thoughtfulness, Rosalee agreed with a grin. "And I suppose that method gives reason," The laughter earnt from Petyr was something else entirely, and she loved the jokes they were able to share with each other. "Unwise, or reckless of me?" she grinned, returning to the former debate, "Are you saying you are using this information to your advantage, Sir Lécuyer?" It was a well-known fact by now, that Rosie wasn't one to turn down a challenge; a chance to prove her self-worth. She caught the glimpse of worry that passed across his features like a storm cloud. That is where their opinions would always differ on this matter, it seemed. Petyr would see himself as a knight and nothing more, whereas Rosie saw him as a king, more specifically; as her King of Nothing. Equals in the field of battle, as well as their kingdom. The youngest Dagenhart lifted her head at his eye roll, allowing that to lift her spirits. Listening closely to Petyr's words, she tilted her head. "So... if I were pointing towards an apple, you would take it as 'that is an apple' whereas if I were holding said apple, you would understand it to be 'this is an apple'?" she queried.

While the day for Rosie was fuzzy, the emotions still resonated strong. She had always played the fake fragility card during certain missions that when became truly vulnerable, it was a shock to both the assassin and Petyr, it seemed. Of course. At the end of the day, who killed the killer? It would have been futile to turn away from Petyr, as without missing a beat he could just have pulled her back. That was why she opted for unfocusing her eyes. Only, she snapped back to reality with a jolt when Petyr held her face between his hands. Narrowing her eyes at him, she visibly gritted her teeth -- just to relax at the sound of her nickname. Time lost all meaning while he spoke, the pauses standing out clearly to her. It sounded as if he himself didn't quite believe the words, the promises he was speaking. "They are lying to you," she muttered, "the voices saying different? They lie." she clicked her tongue. I do hope so. For a moment, she shrugged away his words dismissively. At his final words however, she jumped to attention. He thought of her as that? As something worthwhile? Surely I do not count. "We have each other to be grateful for, then."

Petyr's hand rose, his fingers drawing out the little accented 'e' in his surname. It brought a smile to her lips, that did. One little motion. "In your signature, I recall the fancy é you wrote," she grinned, "out of all the little flourishes to your signature, I believe I like that one the best." she pressed her palm to his warm cheek, noticing the tint it had taken on. Rosie chuckled a little at his surprise. "Yes, German. Up until a few generations ago, at least, that is what I got from the book, I think." she nodded to him, meeting his eyes for a brief moment -- the moment in which she could have sworn Petyr was thinking of something. While her brows did furrow, she didn't question him. "As with yours!" Rosie agreed. She smiled at kiss, wishing the moment could last forever, that time would stop and just let them be.

[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( undercover turncoat )xx( dagenhart residence; the library )xx( twenty six )

He rose a brow at her grin, shrugging to the reasoning of her words. ”Just as good as any,” he nodded. Their running jokes were always appreciated especially when they offered an opportunity to lighten the mood. ”Recklessness is what makes you, Rosie. So, naturally, it is that same recklessness that you put across in everything you do. And Might I add-- I can’t help falling in love with it each time. Falling in love with you.” he then grinned at her question, holding a hand over his chest. ”Why, I’d never, Miss Dagenhart. I like to believe I’m a bit wiser than to do that.” Of course he was using that to his advantage! Anything to get her attention, to stir her. And with each time he proposed such a challenge, he earnt that fiery defiance and determination of hers. Though unable to see eye to eye with each other, Petyr was quite content with his outlook on things. No guilt, no jealousy, towards the thoughts and ideas he had in regards to his placement versus hers. He would serve, and he would serve loyally. Petyr then offered her a nod when she relayed the information back to him. And, to further surmount the idea for her, he drew a book from the shelf they stood adjacent to. ”C’est un livre,” he told her, motioning to the book in his hand. He then pointed to a book resting on the shelves, ”C’est un livre, aussi,” he then replaced the book to its same spot, smiling. ”Much more simple, non?”

He could only hope and pray to the gods that he’d never find her in that state ever again. Nearly dead and bleeding onto the stone, hapless and hopeless. He’d been forced into the situation where he had to retrieve a doctor, because even he couldn't’ help her and he absolutely hated that. He nearly lost her, and he refused to see it happen again. That was a major reason as to why he stood at her side; to protect her. And, sure, she could protect herself, but what if something similar was to happen? He noticed the almost feral look in her eyes when he spoke her full name, but it calmed when he repeated back the shortened version of it. He had certainly accomplished earning her attention, despite her initial reaction. When she spoke after him, Petyr flinched, looking to her with a new intent. They are lying to you. However much he wished to believe this, his thoughts screamed at him. What does she know? Nothing, nothing! She’s lying. ”I don’t know-- I'm not sure I understand what you mean,” he responded, though a lie, shaking his head to her. In his twisted version of ideas, he believed he was doing that-- lying to her-- to reassure her. But didn’t that only destroy trust? (Now, Petyr was exceptional in the art of lying. He gave away no tells, and remain absolutely passive in his tone and expression alike.) The knight was quick to note her response to his words, his head dipping to give her an affirmative to whatever doubt she held towards not being just that to him. Because she was, and so much more, too. ”So we do,” he whispered.

”My signature,” he chuckled, nodding. ”I was told to make it unique to me. I think I succeeded in doing that, hm?” his eyes shone at the thought of how she was able to recall his signature. (Her own was something else-- What with the heart she put in place of the ‘o’ in her name. A sweet notion.) ”I believe I enjoy writing that one out of the rest of the letters. It makes my name seem a little less mundane.” Petyr tilted his head into her hand when it was put to his cheek, chuckling softly and resting his hand over hers. ”That’s fascinating, mon chéri,” he grinned. ”I could look over the book, if you’d like?” he offered to her. Seeing as most of these books in the library were German, he could attempt to pick up on some and see if he couldn’t translate the text for her. He didn’t know a single word of the language, but who was to say he couldn’t learn?

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxr[ reckless assassin ]xx[ twenty four ]
xxxxxxxl[ the heir of ash & fire ]xx[ location || dagenhart residence ]

Her heart felt as though it were a feather, fluttering beats that reacted to Petyr's words. Eyes shining as they widened, a small smile playing on her lips. Rosie felt her emotions surge, washing over her like a tidal wave. She couldn't even begin to describe how much Petyr's words meant to her in that moment, the feelings behind them causing a red-tint to take to her features. The assassin chuckled light-heartedly, shaking her head and dropping it in attempt to hide her Cheshire smile. "And you! You are full of mystery, and it was those mysteries that I was first drawn to. I could not help but to love them." she traced a bow with her hand, her eyes following his hand as it came to rest upon his chest. "Hrm... why do I think differently, then?" she chuckled, that glint in her eye daring him to say otherwise. Standing idly aside as Petyr went ahead to demonstrate, she busied herself with shifting around the ash on the ground for which she was heir to. Her expression lit up once again as he took a hold of the book and altered the phrase thusly before pointing at one at the end. "Oh, oui, oui." the assassin confirmed with a small nod.

To the rational part of her mind, she couldn't understand as to why he had flinched at her words. Rosalee took a step backwards, in an attempt to view his whole person in order to read him, see into his thoughts. Her eyes scanned his form -- eyes locking with his own pretty tawny orbs. Gods, was he ever brilliant at lying. Truly, it was Lécuyer's own game; with others simply playing it. No one lied quite the way in which he did -- devoid of tells, devoid of anything anyone could attribute to that of a lie. His eyes didn't flicker, breathing didn't increase. Nothing. The perfect deceiver. So you see, Rosalee didn't see it, she didn't catch on the lie of his, only she didn't quite accept it. "I believe you do." Rosie didn't call him out on lying, simply because she didn't know he was. (If she had, life wouldn't be worth living.) Instead, she continued to survey his eyes and look past the innocence of them. She turned up nothing.

Rosie was fiddling with the flowers in her braid, retrieving the little things before scattering them at their feet around the library -- somewhat of a keepsake for their first mission. Just like little confetti's, the petals rained down and gave the scorched and blackened room a splash of colour. "It is very fancy indeed," she grinned, "almost as striking as the man himself." she chuckled at the remark. The lavish 'é' was by far, the highlight of the looping script for Rosie. Definitely her favourite. "You succeeded, my little turncoat. It is very unusual." Her grin widened when Petyr's hand rested over her own on his cheek. It only gained ground when he used that French term of endearment for her. "Perhaps another time, I still have the promised skylight to show you." then, onto the post-assassination relaxation treat of ice-skating she had planned for them on the Thames. Now that would be fun and a half.

[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( undercover turncoat )xx( dagenhart residence; the library )xx( twenty six )

The knight was fully aware as to the effect his words had on her, and his pride swelled in light of it. A blush took to her pretty face, causing Petyr to grin. Rosie. Fitting-- for the rose-coloured tint that she bore. He chuckled at that thought, shaking his head with a grin. When her head tilted downwards as if hiding that ever-endearing smile of hers, he gently lifted her chin once more, in an effort to meet her eyes and see her smile in a single move. When she switched the topic of conversation onto himself, he blinked several times. Mysterious. (Isn't that what made a turncoat just that?) Petyr watched as she drew a shape in the air with her hand, him unable to tell what shape it was, but still smiling regardless of that. His own eyes lit at the look her blue pair took-- golds catching the light and practically taunting him. "Oh, pour l'amour de dieux. What makes you think that, hm?"

He'd been taken aback-- surprised, more so-- at her sudden statement. It had almost seemed as if she'd read right between his words, and rather than listening to what he'd said, she took to focusing on what he'd thought. The silent words he wanted to keep to himself, yet she seemed to push away those otherwise unshakable walls-- ignoring his attempts to lock her out of those back reaches of his mind. She took a step away from him, her eyes meeting his with a different look to them. There was no light in the blue, no kindness in the gold. She was trying to read him, that was a look he recognised all too well, and not just from her. How could Petyr not be any good at the very art that the man he'd once considered a caregiver had been an expert at? Victor Pravda was a man who represented the Ver definition of a lie. Petyr had learnt from the best, after all. His eyes narrowed to her, unsure as to how he should take those words. "Do you?" he asked her, trying desperately to look past her eyes.

Lécuyer silently watched her pick away the flowers, letting them flutter to the ash and soot-covered ground. The orange of the petals contrasted with the grey, though at the same time, making the ash seem almost alive. Orange was the colour of fire; of Petyr's flickering candle that he'd poured so much hope into during the dark hours of the night. His work, his writings, only lasted as long as that flame did. Perhaps that was why he'd chosen the colour orange to be his favourite. It was his symbol of hope-- fire was. To find Rosalee, a living, breathing, incarnate of that very same fire that guided his words, had been a blessing from the gods like no other. At her compliment, he chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. "Striking?" he questioned her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, Rosie. If I'm to be striking, then that must make you..." he trailed off as he mentally sorted through his limited English vocabulary, unable to find anything. His eyebrows rose, and he spoke: "envoûtant" his head then dipped, him nodding afterwards. "Of course, another time. I anticipate seeing this skylight of yours. Lead the way."

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxr[ reckless assassin ]xx[ twenty four ]
xxxxxxxl[ the heir of ash & fire ]xx[ location || dagenhart residence ]

Petyr chuckled a little, at what she could only assume was herself. It caused her shoulders to jerk as she held back her own sheepish laughter. Rosalee's eyes darted to his own for a moment as he lifted her chin, eyes quickly averting themselves once she caught onto the look in them. Of course Rosie saw him as mysterious -- he was the one person she could never fully read at the time of their encounter, able to shield himself away from her powerful golden gaze. So many secrets, hidden truths and thoughts locked away behind those unassuming tawny-bronze eyes of his. And then he granted her entrance into those very thoughts and it was glorious. He spoke those French words she adored so and Rosie tilted her head, "Désolé? For... the something, something gods?" she asked in question. She laughed at his next comment. "Everything I know about you makes me think this!" she grinned.

What made a lie great? The execution of said lie? The lack of tells, the vocal tone, the calm demeanour? Or was it simply, the person believing it that made it so? Rosie didn't always go to interpret the words, sure, word usage was important but that often lead nowhere -- she instead, read into the silence between the words. Into the little hesitations, the flickers of doubt. Only, Petyr displayed none of this. So, she took it as self-doubt, not a lie. But once a lie was uncovered, then all the person's truths then grow questionable. That's how it worked didn't it? It was how they uncovered Victor, and whose to say it wouldn't ring true for them? Rosalee didn't want to answer him, because she wasn't sure of her own answer, so she just stood -- staring at him in the hopes his shields would break down enough for her to see through.

Rosie's foot helped to brush the petals in all directions, her attention brought to Petyr when she noted how closely he was watching them; a prominent smile on his features. She grinned at this, gently tugging at the piece of jewellery around her neck as his eyes followed the little orange petals that floated through the air. It was times like these that made the past worth the heartache, just for a chance to meet him. "Striking." she echoed, "Dashing too, with those hints of gold." she chuckled, politely smiling as he pieced together a word in his beautiful language. "I will take that as a wonderful compliment," Rosie breathed a little contented sigh, thinking back to his earlier proposal. Oh but if he only could! If he could translate a page, hell, even a word of her precious lineage book she would be in his debt for generations. That would be a gift like none other. She kept this to herself though, nodding briefing before guiding him to the stairs tucked into the corner of the library. Watch your step.

[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( undercover turncoat )xx( dagenhart residence; the library )xx( twenty six )

She looked away from him even after he had rased her head-- his silent plea for her to look to him. She didn't, but that was fine. He couldn't have the world when it came to her, after all. Petyr had long learnt that shutting people away was easier than letting them into his thoughts, emotions, and otherwise. Yet, he'd opened the gates to the one person he thought he never would see again. after her first jump through the window. To an assassin. (And might he add, he didn't regret a single thing in his doing that.) His head tilted downwards a bit when she attempted translation, grinning just slightly. "Il est moi qui devrais dire. Pardon," he laughed, "It is I who should say that. Pour l'amour de dieux. For the love of gods, for the gods sake. L'amour, the love. De is of." His eyebrows then raised, him looking mildly surprised. "Everything? You think so? I certainly do beg to differ."

It wasn't something Petyr was proud of. If anything, he found himself almost in a state of shame over it. Guilt was prominent each time he told one of his proclaimed and infamous lies. Perhaps that was why he was chosen for the job. Lying got you into worlds that required a key-- it pushed you into places you hadn't previously anticipated. Petyr absolutely hated it, but he also knew just how valuable the skill was. Men got killed for treason, lying, because they got caught whilst doing it. Not him. (In a twisted way, he owed Victor his life for this. Not that he'd tell Rosalee that, ever.) But, see, he trusted her. And that, that was why he let his defences drop, the hard glint of his earth-coloured eyes fading away. "Désolé."

His eyes lifted off the ground to meet her pair, an eyebrow arching. "Gold?" he questioned, curiosity laced in those words of his as his confusion shone brightly. His jacket, perhaps? What else could she be speaking on, if not that..? He shook his head, her compliments easily clustering him. "Striking and dashing? You flatter me... I must thank you." he paused, shutting his eyes for a moment. "And I will find a translation for said compliment... In time." his head dipped, but he still smiled. She hadn't shot down his attempt, instead taking it on with a smile and he couldn't possibly thank her enough for that. As she took lead and walked towards the staircase put in the back corner of the large room, Petyr diligently followed after her. Heeded. Thank you.

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxr[ reckless assassin ]xx[ twenty four ]
xxxxxxxl[ the heir of ash & fire ]xx[ location || dagenhart residence ]

She swiped at her cheeks in an attempt to brush away the red dusting them, still somewhat apprehensive in the field of affection. It cooled her face to no end, the simple action, and that's when she finally met his eyes again, shoulders shrugging in apology for not looking to him the first time. Reaching out to squeeze his wrist, Rosie shot him her version of a Cheshire smile. Naturally, it was far easier to hide yourself away, as Rosalee was taught that an emotion showed was an emotion exploited. In a way, they saw eye to eye in terms of this idea. And yet again Petyr was different -- no ulterior motives, no hidden agendas to consider, he just genuinely cared. Rosie couldn't thank him enough for allowing her into the galaxies hidden in his eyes. "Il est moi... q-ui, qui les aime tu?" Languages were difficult, dammit! Fortunately, Rosie was far too stubborn not to try; for this was the greatest challenge of them all. "C'est moi qui les aime tu?" at his translation, she only laughed. "Oh! I see how it is!" she huffed, feigning offence at his remark. "Va savoir pourquoi you would think different, Sir Lécuyer."

In the silence that surrounded them, Rosalee continued to calculate and evaluate him. Expression steely, eyes cold. Hollow, even. In the presence of her turncoat, killing those pesky emotions had become somewhat of a bother. Damn him! He shaped her into a better person and damn him for it. Her cold essence had been warmed by the spark that was Petyr Lécuyer. But then his shields dropped, the hard glint of his tawny eyes dissipated and his lie was revealed for her to see. And he let her see. Rosie's expression mirrored hurt before she tugged the emotion away, desensitising herself and toughening her voice. "Why?" she murmured, "I do not understand? Why the need to lie?" Wrath, that insidious creature crawled beneath her skin, scratching away at her nerves. She emitted the anger from her person like a firestorm; the sparks crackling across the atmosphere like electricity between them. Only, unlike her world famous reckless abandon, Rosalee just gritted her teeth and prepared to hear him out. Progress, however small.

The assassin grinned fiercely at him. "Of course, gold." she proceeded to tap at his jacket, and then the gold-inlaid gauntlet strapped to his wrist. Chuckling to herself at the confusion that swam in his tawny orbs, she shook her head. Her head turned to the side, grin never wavering nor fleeting. "...Words are your forte, not mine unfortunately." she confessed. It was true; where she excelled in the more murderous arts, Rosalee utterly failed in ones of the heart. "Until then, I shall look forward to it." And I believe in you. A nod from her was all she gave before darting up the staircase, avoiding the mismatching steps where the foundations of the stairs completely fell away. Her hand reached out behind her to help guide him, if needed.

[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( undercover turncoat )xx( dagenhart residence; the library )xx( twenty six )

He had to laugh at her attempt to rid the blush that her face now bore, Petyr leaning down to press his lips to her heated cheeks, moving her hand away and holding onto it. She then met his eyes, which he was thankful for, a smile of his own forming when he saw hers. He'd learnt this all from his father, being passive and apathetic. So it was only natural to assume that Rosalee had been raised the same way, only harsher seeing as no one had been there to make sure he hadn't gone too far. Petyr had that, his mother stepping in when his father had gone to discipline Petyr. You’re expecting too much from him, mon trésor. He couldn't have known. Leave him be. His mother had offered a peaceful median, and showed him the softer edge of the blade. Rosie wasn't offered that, given the choice or had the luck to it. ”Il est moi qui t’aimes,” he gently corrected with a smile. ”Very close, ma chér. You're persistent,” he chuckled, but it was a compliment to her stubborn nature no less. ”C’est moi qui t’aimes. Oddly, the same translation. Il means both ‘he’ and ‘it’. Context pending.” he then shot her a grin at her offended huff. ”Oh, me connaître, Miss Dagenhart.” he countered with a chuckle. ”Knowing me,” he translated with a wink.

She was relentless, her eyes never wavering from his with a cold intent and he hated it. But that hard, almost lifeless look fell away when his lie was revealed to her, emotion tore through those eyes of hers and he couldn't take it, turning his face away from her, eyes falling shut. Don’t. Please. His arms drew into himself, crossing over his person as his mind threatened to shut down on him, on her. ”Ne pas me forcer à répondre à cette question… Je n'ai pas de réponse pour tu.” he could see the anger in her eyes, and it was alive. ”I'm so sorry… I… I just wanted you to be happy, to not worry about me. I didn't want this...” he shook his head, taking a step away from her.

The jacket, the gauntlet, of course. Petyr chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and shrugging. ”Of course, I didn't think of that,” he admitted. ”The gold is a nice touch, I'll admit. Though, I'll also add that it looks rather well on you, too,” he told her, brushing a finger beside her eyes, which held the gold that he loved so much. ”Forte,” he repeated back with a laugh. ”It is French, did you know this..? Strength. Words...” he trailed off, then smiled ”thank you. If words are my strength, then yours is action. Where I am able to speak, you can act.” And don't actions speak louder than words? He then nodded, smiling at that. If he could do anything for her, it would be the world. So if he could do this one thing, he would, and for her only. She then went up the steps, Petyr shortly there behind her. He followed each of the steps she took, careful to avoid where the wood of the stairs had fallen. The knight noticed her hand, held out to him just in case, and he smiled, grateful for it. He reached towards it, gently touching the back of her scarred hand to let her know he was still here, but he didn't take it in fear of slowing her down.