[ ♔. kill your darlings ]

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

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

It took time for her to think, piece together the phrases, so there were often lulls in their French conversation; her mind working double time to stitch the odd words and phrases she'd learnt. I feel like a small child learning how to speak. Then of course, extra time for her to decode Petyr's messages, glancing upwards and to the right as a sign she was deep in thought. Rosalee's mouth hung slightly open, features set in a smile while she worked through a response. "Aucun doute les dieux aime nous jusqu'à la fin?" Confidence was found in Petyr's own smile, pride resonating from the assassin. To think! She was speaking to him in his own language, an actual conversation; no matter how small.

Rosalee was quick to squeeze his hands when his eyes dropped, her version to trying to regain his attention. "I..." she started a sentence she had no idea how to end, so let it fall into the endless ocean of silence. And yet, as his hand brushed across her cheek she felt suddenly reassured. But how did Petyr just know? It must have been an innate skill Rosie had neglected in her years of training. All of a sudden, she felt as though the world had left her behind in this, left her lost in an unknown terrain. "I would... kill the thing that is upsetting you?" Her endless inquires must have hit him like a freight train, an she turned her head to the side as a twinge of guilt hit her heart. Petyr shifted on his feet, and she took it as an opportunity to think. How would you wish for others to respond to you? What would she have liked? Odd. Rosie didn't know. "Are you saying I have to empathise with them? I don't think I would know how to act, I often wish for people to just leave me be." she shrugged.

Of course he would -- he studied as a scholar, his writing lived by the flame. It was only natural he understood how the thing worked. In Petyr's experience, it was a kind thing, a helpful little element that gave him a light in the darkness. Yet it was a double-edged sword; underestimate the little spark, mistreat it in even the slightest way and well, the repercussions were damning. It was destructive, a force of nature that tore through forests like they were nothing. And yet, it was that same little flame, the little thing eating away at the wick of a candle, it was that tiny spark that gave him so much hope in the early days. Remembering this story of brought an unexpected flicker of a smile to Rosie's face. It dropped with his words though. "Oxygen," she echoed, touching his shoulder in thanks. Pictures of them to kick off the decoration. She liked the sound of that. "Merci, Petyr." Glancing once towards the skylight, she backed away, falling to her knees and pulling free one of the floor boards. Inside, as usual, a hidden chest with a cache of hers. The ruined dress from the first day she met Petyr laid atop her assassin gear, but it was quickly pushed aside so Rosalee could retrieve a hooded cloak. Donning the article of clothing, her nostrils flared in a sigh. "We can go now, if you like."

[important]

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

( undercover turncoat )xx( dagenhart residence )xx( twenty six )

Petyr noticed the time it took for her to string his words together, but he only appreciated that all the more. "If you ever need my help or translation, don't hesitate to ask me," the turncoat reminded her, smiling. That is what it is, only you're older and more cognitively developed. The moment of silence offered Petyr a reprieve, him watching as her gaze flitted up and right. Rosie's expression was set to a relaxed determination, a look he'd grown used to as it graced her pretty face. "Sans aucun doute les dieux nous aiment jusqu'à la fin," he corrected, making sure to keep his tone soft so she knew he was not trying to impose her confidence by any means. "Ils doivent! La chance qu'ils nous offrent est immense. They must, the luck that they offer us is immense." Petyr have her a translation simply because there were too many words she hadn't yet learnt in it.

Whatever her intentions were, when she squeezed his hands, Petyr's gaze snapped back upwards to her, eyes offering a silent apology. He then shook his head at her words, eyes closing as he couldn't help a chuckle at that. "Rosie, oh, no." Petyr then pulled her only closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "The only thing you are to look to kill, is the negative emotion. It does not have to revolve around the death of someone, I can assure you that." his head then lifted as he nodded at her next question. "Empathise. Yes." a pause, a frown from him, then: "It is not always a good thing to be alone. Solitude is helpful for thinking, but if you cage it inside for too long, it will build up. It needs to go somewhere, and when it does, it will be released all at once." his hands formed fists, which he held to his chest before sweeping outwards, sighing. "It is not good to be alone all the time, Rosie. You must understand that the human mind and instinct is based off of the minds of others."

Petyr's own smile took in light of hers, nodding as she reiterated his words. "I know of its dangerous qualities, but I am not well with that edge of it." once the pictures were sorted, they could then replace the chandelier and skylight. Then, the wallpaper and floors. The odds and ends of the room would come last, then they could move to the other rooms of the grand home. Their home. "Je t'en prie." Of course, for you. They would rebuild the house's former glory, and reshape the interior and exterior alike. It would reign as the greatest house of residence this side of the Thames, and put Victor's estate to shame. He watched her in silence as she pulled up a wooden floorboard, revealing the dark dress she'd worn the day they met. Petyr was quick to smile at the thought, watching as she retrieved her cloak. His posture then straightened. "That'll be fine with me. Where are we going to, next? My own cloak is back at the inn, if it's needed for where we are going."

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

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

With a blink, her eyes turned to his, the golds intensifying in colour slightly. The offer was too good to refuse. "What are, the words anything and... still in French? Oh! And what is the difference between aime and aiment?" I do not like being a child. Rosie added a laugh to her silent words. Keenly aware of his attention, she kept her gaze strong and on target. "Sans?" she queried, a puzzled expression on her face at the new word. Her eyes then grew even wider at the sudden onslaught of more unknown variables. "Nous doivent aime les dieux, oui?" They are far too kind to us, don't you agree? "Pour l'amour de dieux. Non chance, seulement nous. Nous. Tu et moi. Toi et moi?"

Petyr chuckled ever so lightly, to which, Rosalee narrowed her eyes. He pulled her close, pressed a kiss to her forehead and she huffed. "It may not need to, but killing the person is killing the problem, the root of the emotion, no?" Poor little assassin and her flawed logic. She just didn't see it. "I can improvise, but I do not empathise, empathy hinders the mission. Please understand, this goes against all I know," Everything Petyr spoke of went against the code Christoph installed from day one. Gods, it was like re-learning how to spell. "I like to be alone because there are no good people out there." Where was the lie? Petyr spoke the truth in terms of repressed emotions, like a caged animal, they blew up once they escaped confinement. And by the gods, when a particular woman by the name of Rosalee Dagenhart blew up, heads didn't just roll -- it became an outright massacre. Apparently control only stretched so far. Petyr was the scholar, here, not her. "People are... people are unreliable," she pushed her mouth to the side.

"Fire is not to be trusted. While an ally, I would not turn my back on it, so to speak." They would rebuild this place as their own, and it would be beautiful. Theirs to care for, theirs until the end. Theirs. Buttoning her jacket, she spared a moment to rest her hand on his forearm. This means the world to me. I would share it with none other than you. Passersby would marvel in it's grandeur; it would outdo those who sought to destroy. She would have it no other way. Rosie then breathed a gentle sigh. "It is not necessary." she said, her smile making way for a wry smirk after she glanced out of the window. "It is a surprise, I promise you shan't be disappointed." After patting the floorboard back into place with the flat of her palms, she stood, and offered out her hand to Petyr.

[important]

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

( undercover turncoat )xx( dagenhart residence )xx( twenty six )

"Anything? Quelque chose, et tout. Context, of course, pending. Tout le monde; it means everyone. Still, that is toujours. And... conjugation, it depends on what noun you use. When you use tu, it is aimes. With ils and elles, it is aiment." So then you will learn and grow accordingly. We must all start from somewhere, no? And even despite the laugh of hers, he still looked to reassure her. "Sans. Without." he nodded towards her, watching the look of confusion carefully. He then covered his mouth, a troubled look passing over his eyes. "Rosie, you remember how you use aiment with ils? With nous, it is aimons." For whatever reason. I am not complaining in the slightest, though. Petyr then furrowed his eyebrows as she shot down the idea of luck. "La chance est toujours avec moi." he was not denying that it wasn't any part of them-- Because through the two being together, they had gone lengths others could only dream of reaching. "Toi et moi," he offered, voice a bit quieter.

The knight sighed gently, letting his hands fall from her arms. "It may eliminate the problem, but it will not eliminate the emotion." I do not want to do this, but I must put it into perspective... "Victor. He... He killed your parents. When you killed Victor, he believed you would be tearing down the wall of self doubt, anger, and sadness. But even now that he's gone, dead, you still feel the grief, do you not? The hollow feeling? You miss them, still. Killing did not take it away. And it never will." Petyr fully understood that Christoph had warped her sense of reason and ability to empathise. He'd have to show her, return the ability back to her. Because he knew that it wasn't her, but rather, his father whom had warped her. "I understand, Rosie. But you should know that I am here to help you." And so he was, and he'd stay true to that until the end of days and beyond. "Solitude is the worst possible answer, you must understand..." There is no good people out there. Petyr shouldn't have taken that one so close to heart, but he did, wincing ever so slightly, drawing back. "Unreliable," he repeated in a lilting tone, nodding once as he forced out a breath. "Right, my apologies-- I..." Perhaps it'd be best, then, to simply stop trying.

Lécuyer couldn't help but to take that has a subtle warning from her. "Duly noted," he spoke, eyes slightly wide as he looked away from her and back to the surroundings of the room. As she finished securing the cloak to get person, Petyr looked to her once more at her touch, smiling at her silent words. Then allow me to tell you that I am absolutely honoured. It is something that I wouldn't trade for all the worlds riches. He wouldn't wish for anything more. "Oh," he laughed, his expression opening as his eyes lit up. "A surprise? Gods alive, you should know by now that I absolute detest surprises. But if you will it," he sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. Petyr didn't hesitate to take her offered hand, squeezing it before intertwining their fingers. "Lead the way, Miss Dagenhart."

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

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

"Ah, always with the context." That would always cause her to slip up. "Conjugation, still, I find it odd how you have different terms depending on the noun you use. It will take me time to learn." Well, if so, I will apologise in advance for my rebellious teenage years. Rosalee teased with a smile. "Sans toi, sans moi." Her expression showed self-doubt when Petyr's hand lifted to cover his mouth, and Rosie felt her confidence take a particular skydive with her mistakes, but the stubbornness would remain. It was a given. "Aime, aiment et aimons. Je suis désolé. Pardon my ignorance," I think they are secretly on our side. With eyes briefly flitting around the room, she had to think back through previous conversations in order to figure out what to piece together, and it took her substantially longer to filter through the memories further back in her mind. "J'ai non la chance. Mais tu as toujours notre la chance, oui?" The assassin wasn't sure whether she'd upset him with her blatant lack of faith in trust, so took advantage of Petyr's comfort lessons. "Toi et moi jusqu'à la fin."

Do not go there. Another noise built up in her throat, and she grabbed Petyr's arm just above the elbow. "If you don't want to then why are you?" Killing him did make it go away. For all of five seconds. "You may bring them up at any time, but do not use my parents to prove a point against me." He was right, of course; she may have tried to cover it with humour and sheer indifference, but it was there. Still gnawing away, day by day, festering and hurting. And just like an infection, it would spread, slowly and steadily until all the lies behind the smoke and mirrors wouldn't be enough to hold it back. And when that day arrived, surely no-one would live to tell the tale. Rosalee dropped his arm. "Only evil and lesser evils. All are unreliable to a degree." She caught it. The way in which Petyr flinched and drew back, his whole demeanour growing dejected. Oh great. The heartless and insensitive assassin hurt yet another person close to her, by calling them evil. That was not the intention, but when was it ever? Rosalee didn't see herself and Petyr as good people, she saw them as just; she saw them as righteous. But did that make them good people? Probably not. They killed in the name of justice, and killing was not a good act, even if the ends would always justify the means. "Do you know how many people I trust with my life?" It wasn't the plan to appear dramatic, but it probably did regardless. "Five. The first three are dead, and I killed the fourth." Are you just going to give up on me like that? Where is the tenacity that I fell in love with, Petyr?

With an a long exhalation and a short hum, Rosalee dismissed his words with a shrug. It wasn't a topic she liked to linger on, evidently. Patting off the dust from the new item, she then did the same with the skirts of the dress, which had managed to gather several speckles of ash from the light breeze that invaded through the rooftop skylight. (She looked quite funny, the pastel-coloured dress paired with the almost shadow-like quality of the cloak she'd just thrown on top.) Her head dipped at his silent words, drumming her fingers idly. For you and only you. You are my most trusted, after all. Rosalee laughed at his words, huffing gently. "Oh, you are sure to love it," his own, warm expression had her grinning. At his eye roll, Rosie's eyebrows raised. "Or, perhaps you won't. We shall have to find out." she joked. After another laugh, she smiled as he twined their fingers. "Of course," she winked before heading towards the exit.

[important]

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

( undercover turncoat )xx( dagenhart residence )xx( twenty six )

"As does English," he pointed out with a twirl of his finger. "I am, you are." he then shrugged. "It's something time will teach you." You, too? Petyr shot her a grin in response to her smile, dipping his head. "It is not ignorance, Rosie. You are learning, and I respect that in extension to your errors." those words were offered in his reassurance towards her when he noticed her confidence waver. And that respect further went out into patience towards the time it took her to work out yet another sentence. "Pourquoi? Pourquoi est la chance non avec tu?" His eyes wandered for a moment, but came to rest back to her when she spoke again, the knight nodding his agreement.

"This seems to be the only thing that you listen to," he admitted, meeting her eyes when she grabbed his arm. And despite her warning, he soldiered on. "Killing, eliminating, the cause does not destroy the problem. You still bear your scars, your hurt, your pain. And that will not go away no matter how many must perish for you to realise that." How many men will die before you see this? How many will you condemn? Perhaps that spark of audacity was not the wisest thing for him to do, and yet, Petyr didn't falter once. "You are an assassin. Trained to kill. But you must understand that these kills are not made towards you not your cause-- they're not for you. They are towards a greater thing, a greater good. You cannot let your emotions cloud that, because that is when they become dangerous. Rogue. I cannot let that happen." Killing is what started wars, not ended them. His initial reaction had been hurt, but Petyr managed to turn that into something more volatile. "We are not good people. I understand this. But surely we can make good decisions." the turncoat stopped to listen to her, his expression growing troubled. "Surely the fifth will not be destroyed so easily." a pause, as Petyr pieced together his own response: "Three. Three people." Trust in a turncoat's life was imperative, but not something that was free. "That I trust unequivocally. All alive, all well. And I intend to keep it that way, even if it costs my life." Perhaps you have overestimated me, Rosalee.

Petyr continued to watch her in an air of silence, allowing that same silence to quell his negativity, his thoughts, and that underlying anger. And though silence was oft times an enemy to the knight, Petyr didn't protest against it this time. Didn't break it. "Secrets and surprises, Rosie. The two things I absolutely can't stand. You're bound to kill me with them," he chuckled. But, in truth, he couldn't wait to find out what was worth keeping quiet about. "Well, see, if you told me, then perhaps I could answer that." Petyr shook his head at her wink, though still followed her out of the room of the home, and eventually, the door that led them back to Regency street.

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxr[ reckless assassin ]xx[ twenty four ]
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxr[ the heir of ash & fire ]xx[ location || streets ]

"You got me there, Petyr. I did not think of this." a sheepish smile graced her features, nose crinkling upwards as she did so. "And you, I hope. Time has yet to speak with me personally." Always in trouble, I was not one for following orders. What about my little turncoat, hmm? I always thought you to be an upstanding citizen, Petyr! What is this new side I am only just hearing of? His grin was otherworldly, and Rosalee found herself enchanted by it. "This will come as no surprise, but I do not take well to my own faults. I... I expect near perfection in what I do. Forgive me." With nostrils flaring in distress, she reached out to Petyr simply to find some semblance of solace from him. It was impossible to explain to him why she still felt the innate need to listen to her mentor's ideologies, but that came down to the fact she couldn't separate her own thoughts from his. Still, Rosalee was thankful for Petyr's patience in her. "Je ne... Petyr... plaire." The assassin shifted on her feet, seeking comfort by scratching at her neck and averting her eyes.

"If this is a criticism against me, I will not hear of it." Petyr was either brave, or perhaps foolish, in pursuing the topic further. In response to his eyes meeting hers, Rosalee's lips curled upwards, one of the many intimation tactics she utilised. (Not that they would work on Petyr very well; he'd seen them all before.) "Lécuyer, this is me, asking you to kindly drop it." she hissed, eyes narrowing. No sweet and teasing little 'Mister' or 'Sir Lécuyer' right now. As many as need be. Her posture straightened, and took on an offensive stance. Cracking her neck and pushing her way into his personal space was her attempt to force him to cower from her person. Fire was her speciality, after all, and she showed this by facing him head on. "See me on a mission, and you will see that emotions do not exist. I know exactly what I kill for. You think I would take a life if I did not know what I was fighting for? I know what side I am on, I know what goal my kills go towards, but do you? What side are you on?" the only thing she knew how to do, was flip the conversation onto Petyr. "How about you? Aren't you angry over Christoph's death, don't you hate me for it? Don't you want justice? To right a wrong?" Rosalee's rapid breathing calmed ever so slightly, the blazing comets in her eyes softening. Her voice even dropped an octave. "That is exactly what I wish for. Good decisions." at this next set of words, coupled with the troubled expression, Rosie simply huffed, "You believe I would let that happen?" She then squinted. Three. His mother and brother, then. And her, if she played her cards right. "Valiant heart..." Rosalee wasn't too fond of his doubtful silent words, and so, ignored them with an annoyed growl.

By now Rosie had realised the silence she revelled in, was chaos for the turncoat of hers. She understood his dislike of it, and so tried to fill the silence with conversational topics whenever possible for him, but unluckily, this was not one of those times. Petyr seemed somewhat at home in the quiet for now, as did she. "Don't you trust me?" she shot him her best innocent little Rosie expression with wide-eyes. "To an apple orchard," she lied with a teasing manner, "Petyr, if that was an attempt for me to divulge where I am taking you, it was a very poor one." she laughed, leading the way through the torn remains of the home. Once outside, she pushed the door shut and then continued onwards towards the frozen bank of the Thames, where the Frost Fair was already in high spirits.

[important]

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

( undercover turncoat )xx( streets )xx( twenty six )

He'd seen this before, and unfortunately for Rosalee, he'd learnt exactly how to respond. Because is was a reaction she was after-- wanting Petyr to relent, to show some weakness so that she could attack it and ultimately, make him stop. Instead, the knight stood straighter as she pushed herself closer to him, in his effort to appear taller, more grounded. "Rosalee." There was no warmth in his voice, his eyes, nor his features. His tone had been a warning one, silently begging with her that he was not the one she should be fighting. "No, Dagenhart, I'm afraid you're just another pawn. You kill for him. Cross. But, see, did you know what he stood for? Why he killed? Of course not. The only thing you knew was that if it wasn't you that made the kills, then you were useless to him." However, the questions were now pushed onto him; something Petyr hadn't anticipated from her. What side are you on? This time, it wasn't Victor who was firing the killing shot at him, no. This time it was Rosalee who held the gun, barrel at his eyes, finger on the trigger. "I have no reason to be angry with you nor at you for your actions." Petyr spoke calmly enough, having to force himself to stay rational as he tried to think of how to best diffuse the situation. Yet, as much as he didn't wish to give in to her tactic to gain an upper hand on him, her words were wounding. Petyr's eyes flashed and he finally looked away from her, inhaling steadily. "The wrongs were righted the moment he died." And that was the truth. That was how he looked at it-- he never once held her responsible for the negative side of his father's death. He hadn't a clue as to who she counted towards in regards to the five. Her mother, father, Christoph, maybe? Petyr, if he hoped enough. But who was the last one..?

"Undoubtedly." he smiled at her expression, her eyes softened and wide. At her next words, though, his eyes widened slightly, at first thinking she wasn't teasing, believing her words. He then caught the glint to her eye, though, and scoffed, shaking his head. Petyr groaned a bit but still kept pace with her, attempting to match his her footfalls. "But an attempt no less," he told her. Once outside, the knight grew a bit quieter, taking to watching rather than much else. He saw she was leading him towards the water of the river, which he'd been looking to earlier in an air of awestruck sincerity. An idea as to what they may be doing formed, Petyr tilting his head just slightly. "Rosie..? Am I allowed an answer, yet?"

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxr[ reckless assassin ]xx[ twenty four ]
xxxxxxxxxxxxi[ the heir of ash & fire ]xx[ location || thames river ]

Petyr could stand his ground, throw out an air of superiority, that was fine by Rosalee. Made the game of dominance far more fun. It was always intimidation tactics with the assassin, and yet, it appeared that Petyr had caught onto her strategies and knew how best to deal with them. She listened to her name, used by the turncoat as a warning. A warning for what? Not to fight him? Not to be angry at him? Didn't change a thing. Aggression radiated from her pores like smoke, an acrid tang that hung heavy in the air. She heard him out, each choice word only acting to stoke the fire that had set into her bones. "I killed for the good of the Brotherhood. My orders were directly from them, given to me through him. I did not do his dirty work, I was not used!" Then the ending comment -- the world crumbled beneath her, and a distant ringing starting in her ears. Those damn words that cut her down to size. The same thing she'd struggled with: Identity. Petyr probably didn't mean it as such, but all Rosalee heard was: Why do you deserve to be saved? You are useless. Worthless, without the one who gave you a name in the beginning. What are you without him, little heir? Nothing, nothing! You are nothing! Grief stabbed her heart, the life-giving organ dropping to her stomach like a leaden weight. Useless. "I am not, and I resent you saying such things." she spat back, but it didn't have quite the same venom. Rosalee could never have realised the betrayal that Petyr must have been feeling from the backlash of her comment, didn't realise now she was the one who had turned the gun on him. "Why the hell not? Why aren't you furious at me? You should be furious at me." she didn't understand it. The way in which Petyr didn't hold hatred in his heart over her actions. To her, it wasn't logical. Anger was all she knew, and for Petyr to speak calmly over the subject? The hell was he playing at? When he turned away with a flash of his tawny-coloured orbs, Rosie took it as a victory. That was how dominance battles between animals were settled -- the one to break eye contact first was the subordinate, right? Certainly didn't feel like it. "Look at me." Petyr would never guess who the fifth was (technically, fourth) was. It was another assassin that Rosie had known back in the day; another like her, a year or so older, whom had treated her as a sister. It wasn't a story Rosalee like to dwell on.

"As you should, my dashing little turncoat." her reaction to his smile was to squeeze his hand gently, dropping back to walk alongside him whilst carefully directing him to their final destination of the walk. Rosie laughed at his scoff, it taking Petyr a considerably long while to figure out she was joking. You think I would do such a thing to you? Make you suffer through an apple orchard? "I cannot fault you for trying." she agreed. The walk wasn't a long one, the home's location a prime one with the gorgeous view of the river in the warm summer months. She had picked up on the way in which Petyr had gazed upon the river earlier in such wonder, and that had prompted the trip here. Rosie beamed, and jumped down into the ice that stretched across the vast river, her excitement a tangible thing. "No," she teased, "Wait here, I shan't be but a moment." she promised, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before darting off towards the vendors. And sure enough, not even a heartbeat later, Rosie returned with a scarf for the charming turncoat (it was cold thanks to the ice) and two pairs of ice-skates for the duo.

[important]

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

( undercover turncoat )xx( thames river )xx( twenty six )

Stupidity, he finally concluded. Definitely stupidity. The best method of obtaining and maintaining rationality was to not instigate. Yet, here he was, fanning the flames. "How? How can you be sure it was the brotherhood that authorised the kills? Did the brotherhood know of Christoph's basement, do you think? Would they have authorised that, if they knew? Justice, Dagenhart. You tell me you pray to justice, so why are you allowing this? Why are you letting yourself believe the lies of a dead man?" because those lies were the only things she knew. If they were to be torn down, she'd be left with nothing. As much damage as her words inflicted upon him, Petyr did not flinch or shy away, instead meeting them with his own force. "So then resent me, Rosalee. But, I beg you to bear in mind that I never once held such bitterness towards you, nor will I ever. My heart can only find to love you, and that is why I am doing this. That is why I am not angry. You should know now, that without hesitation, I would lay my life down in your name. If you held a blade to my throat and willed my death, I am powerless to say otherwise-- and even if I wanted to, I would not. I understand the concept of sacrifice. So, please, resent me. But when you move to squeeze the trigger, to pull the edge across my skin and end my life, remember my words," he paused, then chances two more: "je t'aime." The moment his eyes broke from hers, he could feel the subtle sense of pride that seemed to radiate from her person. But to Petyr, it was not a loss. Rather, the turncoat felt he'd won that hand, in rationality's eye. It is the man who lowers his fist that claims victory, not the man who swung theirs. That was Petyr's mother, whom had reminded him of this a countless number of times. (In his younger years, had she not stopped him, Petyr would have attempted to fight the entire town.) Look at me. A command that left no room for further interpretation, no refusal. "No." A contradicting voice. One such voice that Petyr had believed to have lost during his years training for the guard. And yet, here it was, sparking defiance and setting his eyes ablaze with it as he stared down the opposing wall with clear intentions. "As a knight, my duty had been to follow orders without question," his gaze never once wavered, though he allowed himself to pause before continuing, "I am no longer a knight, and so, I refuse to listen to them."

Lécuyer shot her a look of disbelief when she'd claimed to never be quite so cruel. Just to spite me, I'm sure you would. The closer they got to the ice of the river, the more realisation lit upon Petyr's expression. She then left him, promising her quick return. He only smiled, silently holding her to that. The snow that had fallen earlier in the morning (more than likely during their trip to Victor's estate) still rested on the grass of the bank, and though not a considerable amount, it was still enough to have him grinning. She returned with a scarf and two sets of bladed boots, the final piece clicking for him. Excitement immediately took to his eyes, Petyr standing straighter as he took the scarf and one pair of skates from her, only to grow troubled. "Rosie, I... I don't know how..." he set the pair of ice skates down, still holding the scarf as he turned it in his hands. It was a beautiful knitted thing, the yarn a crimson colour (which matched his outfit to perfection, might he add). "I don't suppose you stole this?" he asked with a small laugh as he draped the scarf across his neck, looping it and tucking in the ends. "I can't ice skate. I never knew how to," he finally confessed.