[ ♔. kill your darlings ]

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

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

She had to believe. Had to believe the contracts were from the powers that be in the Brotherhood because if they weren't... then she was just another weapon on Christoph's belt -- used to sic upon his enemies when he couldn't be bothered to do so himself. Bigger fish to fry, and all. Rosie couldn't bear to face the truth that Petyr probably spoke because then, then what had she killed for? Surely not her London town, but just another power-hungry megalomaniac who wanted his way. "Don't talk to me about the basement. I am drawing a line in the sand, here, Lécuyer, do not pass it more than you already have." But of course not. They would not have sanctioned such a thing as Christoph's own personal hell. Why are you letting yourself believe the lies of a dead man? Simple. That would be admitting the mighty assassin Rosalee Dagenhart had been manipulated. It was easy to manipulate someone when they owed you their life. Surely Petyr saw the ulterior motives behind her ardent denial. Gods, he had gotten so good at meeting her fiery gaze, at battling with her words. He was a force of nature all of his own. "I do not resent you, I resent the words you say, and the way in which you turn them against me." His way with words, that silver-tongue of his was a gift, but didn't feel as such when he turned it on her. He knew exactly what to say to provoke a, internal reaction, pull her heart around, and Rosalee did well not to show it on her face. Flip it, flip it, flip it. "I never wished to end your life, never have, never will; even when you seemed so keen to see me dead at the start. Tell me: why so eager to lay down your life for the one you sought to end in the first place?" It was a simple deflection tactic, one that probably wouldn't even act as a hurdle for him. She was losing ground and she didn't like it in the slightest. His sudden je t'aime was a punch to the gut, the sheer power behind the phrase enough to knock her off her feet. The muscles in her neck tensed as she swallowed, increased pulse visible for a fleeting second. Why now? Why use it now of all times? "Stop. Just stop manipulating me." she balled her hands into fists, half needing to hit something. Good lord was he stubborn. He stood his ground, and while she forced the pride, he seemed perfectly fine with his standing -- like someone who had won. The first to forgive, after all. Rosalee was irritated, at the tone of his voice, the decisive no, irked her all the more. Rosie dared a step closer, pulled out a knife and stabbed into the closest wall. And even while turned away, Petyr had that fire in his eyes. Ah, self-assured free will. A step in the right direction, or wrong, depending on your persuasion. "You are no knight, and take no orders," she echoed in a growl, "you are a King, and now give them."

Believe what you will. Rosie had always loved the river -- and all the more so in the cold winter months when they held the annual Frost Fair. Vendors littered the ice, but Rosalee had lead them towards a more secluded part of the frozen plane. The assassin was pleased to see Petyr's excitement radiating off him. It was refreshing, to see him in such joy. Even his posture straightened as he lifted the out-held scarf from her hands. "I, er... it is cold out," she murmured in regards to the purchase, Petyr draping the pretty thing around his neck and looking quite the charmer with it. Her eyes widened -- the new accessory fitting his current attire to a T. Rosie grinned sheepishly at him, gently patting it down. "Oh, you think that low of me? To resort to stealing a scarf, please Petyr! Hold me in a higher regard, Sir," she then cast a glance around, laughter echoing, "I stole three." A good, harmless joke was always well received by the assassin, her expression reflecting her delight. "It is simple, I promise you! Just like walking," after squeezing his wrist, Rosie was quick to kick off her heels and don the skates, leaning against Petyr so she wouldn't fall as she laced them to her ankles.

[important]

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

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

"It only does so much, extends so far, Rosalee. I will cross each barrier you set before me if it means your understanding." Because he wasn't doing it to work against her, Petyr wasn't heartless. Whatever reaction his words had on her, Rosalee seemed to perfectly deflect and mask what didn't leave. Petyr's words had always been the one weapon he could rely on to diffuse situations like these, yet with her, they were useless. She had a counter for each stroke he made, and she only turned those damning words against him. "Is this not how most things begin? I did not kill you, did I? Even when I had the chance, as you were broken and dying and helpless, I did not abandon or end you. Because people can learn to change, their hearts can grow to love. Do not prove to me that all of this was for nothing, do not tell me that who I am can only be summed by what I had done, and not what I do, Rosalee." Petyr was keenly aware as to how she took his words, but she took them with the wrong context. "This is not me manipulating you. I gain nothing from doing that to you, so why would you even think that to be my intent?" he seemed conflicted on the stance she took-- this was not a fight. That was not what he wanted. The sound of metal meeting wood was unmistakable, Petyr's attention snapping to her, eyes finally meeting hers. "I do not give nor take them. I am no knight, but I sure as hell am not a King. I am nothing."

"It is," he agreed with a soft laugh, fingers touching the fabric of the scarf. "Thank you," Petyr nodded to her, smiling. The black and golds of his jacket complimented the new addition of dark red, and whether she planned it or not, it was still perfect. "Not low, gods, never that," he chuckled. "Oh! Three? Rosie, I would have given you money so you could pay for it, you know," he told her with a roll of his eyes. "Before we leave, though, I'll expect you to repay the poor vendor." As she leant against him, Petyr rested a hand on her shoulder to further support her as she slid the boots on, frowning at her reassurance. "Walking on ice, perhaps," he muttered, casting a look down to his own pair of skates that sat at his feet. After she finished lacing her bladed skates, Petyr followed suit and did the same, removing his black boots to replace them with the ones she'd given him. "No laughing if I fall," he made her promise.

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

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

"And where will you stop? How many lines are you willing to cross?" Deflection was all she had. The one thing that would always tear her away from the line of fire, even if it hurt the one she loved so. Anything, simply anything to avoid those questions that burrowed beneath her skin and flooded her veins like an infection. "You are pushing me, Lécuyer. Is this vengeance for me pushing you earlier? To prove to me how you felt?" Everything he said, every fact he stated, was another scar left on her heart. Rosalee was just good at not letting it be known. Petyr's words provoked that part of her that just wanted to fight. "But you wanted to, didn't you? Wanted to kill me, you said so yourself, did you not? You wanted to either kill me or leave me to die because you hated the things I had to say. You aren't denying this, are you? I was... I was not helpless. I..." made a mistake. I trusted him to be honourable. A muscle feathered in Rosie's jaw, her eyelids fluttering as she fought the urge to look away. "And you wonder why I wish to be alone, Petyr." What were you? The one that engaged in the horrible thing, or the one who was horrified you even could? Could one forgive the other? Rosalee could feel the emotions welling under the surface, colliding and threatening to break free. "I know nothing else, Lécuyer! I know nothing else." She simply couldn't see what he wanted to gain from this. Her understanding? Her anger? What? What did he want? Petyr's eyes met hers, only, hers held nothing but confusion over his endgame. "Not just any King. My King. My King of Nothing. If you are no King, then I am no Queen."

With hair whipping around as she turned her face away, Rosie offered a light chuckle, a hand resting on the base of her neck and scratching at the skin there. "Je t'en prie. Seulement pour toi, Petyr, mais les dieux savent pourquoi." she hadn't known what had drawn her to that scarf in particular, she only knew that she was glad her turncoat liked the item. Her golden-flecked eyes glanced to him for a moment, her laugher causing mist to take form around her words. "As you rightfully should, Petyr." even her shoulders started to jolt as she held back what she could of the now incessant giggles. "In my opinion the vendor was doing far too well, he deserved for some of the merchandise to... disappear," silently thanking him for the offered support, she gave him the same nicety, an arm wrapping around his torso to steady him while her now bladed feet slightly moved on the ice. (Whose bright idea was it to fit the already stab-happy assassin with weaponised shoes?) "I will help you to your feet, but no guarrantees on the laughter." Rosalee offered him a sly grin, skating backwards and offering out both of her hands to him once he had secured the boots to his feet.

[important]

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

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

His answer was simple, and should have been anticipated. "How many ever it takes. I have never once been against you, so do not force me to do so now." he then held up his hand, slowly as to not provoke her reflexes, Palm held out to face her. "Not that. No. I do not work in revenge. That was the first thing I'd ever told you, if you care to remember. I do not do anything in the name of vengeance." Earlier wasn't even at the forefront of his thoughts-- it was the past, and it was over. Dealt with. So why was she bringing it back up? Just to rouse him? Anger him, maybe? Petyr's hand then fell closed into a fist, a hiss of air escaping through clenched teeth. "It is actions, not words that define a person and who they are, what they will stand for." And that is why I am nothing, have nothing. I am only built upon my own words. "I never once made a move against you." Lécuyer carefully placed his closed fist against the wall he stood next to, having to make an effort to control his steadily rising temper. "You are more of a queen then I ever am or will be King. I understand your words, but I am telling you that I cannot handle that responsibility. Please don't force it upon me."

"Peut-être pas, mais je fais." Petyr grinned in his response, taking her hand into his and giving it a gentle squeeze. The turncoat then huffed, pulling his shoulders back some as he gave another tug on the scarf, adjusting it some. "The poor man did you no harm, now did he?" he took to reminding her with a tsk. "We'll repay him. Or, I will, rather. How much was it..?" he questioned, tilting his head. Petyr offered her a small smile as her arm snaked around his waist, holding him steady as he slipped the boots on. "If you laugh, I swear on every gods name I'll drag you down with me." and that was a promise. He took her offered hands when he finished, shaky on his feet now that the skates were on. "Don't let go," he suddenly said, tone urgent. "Please," he added afterwards, looking to her with widened eyes.

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

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

"Where will you stop?" Rosie repeated back to him on instinct, steadily losing the will to argue with him. To her, there was no logic to it, no endpoint that he wanted to achieve, but then again, perhaps there was one, but she was just too blind to see it. Wouldn't have been the first time Rosalee had overlooked something in regards to the turncoat. "I don't understand! What do you want, Lécuyer? Just tell me what you want." In an instant, her shoulders tensed at his movement, his deliberately slow movement, as though he wished not to frighten a wild animal. Her eyes flittered to his palm briefly before settling back on his eyes. You didn't watch the hands in a fight. You watched the person. If you care to remember. A slight, a barely veiled dig at her. "I care Petyr! Of course I care to remember. The first French phrase you taught me, quand on parle du loup, I remember that. Then of course, my favourite va savoir pourquoi. The first bet we made, with the throwing knives? Rosalee had to squint, flicking back through her memories. "The first time I hugged you at the Inn, you said... you said... tu es ma plus douce décadence. How you cared for me after Christoph, even though I hurt you with my words... The look on your face when I told you of your successful application into the ranks of the brotherhood... The way you stayed by my side at the party and put your life on the line for me, and when we impersonated each other's signatures on the mirror. I-I remember how your left hand goes to squeeze your right wrist when you are nervous," her face scrunched up as her tangent drew to a close. "I do remember! I remember." If actions did define a person as Petyr stated, then surely his loyalty, his honour, allowed him to be one of the best -- even if he didn't see it. Petyr's fist then moved to the wall, her golden-dappled eyes watching it from her peripherals. "Believe what you wish." Rosalee removed her knife from the wall, and held it by her side.

"Tu fais?" she asked in reply, after decoding his words. Petyr managed to install confidence in his assassin by even the slight action, her smile relaying her thanks. Rosie then laughed at his sudden huff, reaching forwards to help adjust the material that hugged his neck. "The pricings were a blatant robbery, Petyr." another chuckle escaped the assassin as Petyr chided her with a tsk, the way in which you would reprimand a small child who had done wrong. She just breathed through her nose at him. "I cannot tell you the price of a gift," she murmured, shooting him another Cheshire smile, one that showed she could do no wrong. "If you can catch me, that is." she challenged as she always did, but it was light-hearted and had no malice behind it. It had been a year, naturally, since Rosie had last skated on the ice, and so her movements didn't have that graceful feline finesse they usually did. Petyr's sudden change of tune, coupled with his plea pulled on her heartstrings, her once-steely expression giving way for one of sympathy. "I promise." With her aggreeance, the assassin began shifting her weight on her feet, slowly but surely the angle of the blades sparked movement, with Rosie moving backwards and pulling Petyr along. "The trick is not to walk, but push your feet so they glide outwards along the ice... balancing as you do so." she planned to stay like this until he hand enough confidence so she could skate along at his side.

[important]

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

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

Petyr didn't respond to the repeated question, instead took to staying silent. At the point, that would be best. He hadn't wanted this to begin with, and would look to end it. (He'd been trying to, but Rosalee had been adamant about not dropping the topic.) What do you want, Lécuyer? What did he want? He wanted this to end, for them just to be happy and well and live. "I just... I want..." but voicing his wants was always difficult for him to do, so he just shrugged in place. Petyr was quick to note her reaction to his out held hand, but her gold-blue eyes averted from his hand and back to his face in a matter of seconds. Then, he froze at her next set of words, staring at her for a moment before letting his eyes soften. "You are my sweetest downfall," he whispered, allowing his gaze to drop to his hands when she spoke on the move of his that was practically instinct. You paid attention to this? All this? The look in his eyes showed confusion, but above that, a spark of emotion that held no known meaning, no set word to describe it ignited in the darker colours of his eyes. Gently, he reached out to her to take hold of her hand, his attempt to close the damning space that had been put between them. "Rosie, Rosie..." Petyr trailed off, having no use for words any more. Instead, he pulled her closer to him, one hand resting on the side of her face as he kissed her.

"Mhm. An idea, at least." she was catching onto the language quick, and that notion made him smile. As she helped him fix the scarf to rest just above his clavicle, Petyr tucked her hair back over her shoulders, using no the tie she'd used earlier to fix her hair into a braid to pull it back into a loose tie across her back. He then brushed her bangs behind her ears, kissing her forehead. "Oh, but, he's making sales with them, still, so it shouldn't be too bad." it was yet another method for him to get the prices from her, but at her next words, he knew she wouldn't give in. "Oh, fine. But the next time I find that you've taken without purchase, I won't be there to say I didn't see anything. My fingers pointing to you," he teased her lightly. Petyr watched with curiosity as she moved across the ice, looking to her feet. "Balance," he scoffed, inhaling sharply as the blades attached to the boots drew him forward with her. Uncertainty was prominent in his eyes, the turncoat trying his damnedest to replicate the movements that Rosie made so naturally. It pulled him closer, but he quickly faltered as his confidence in his movements began to fade. "I'm trying," he muttered under his breath, to no-one in particular as he tempted the action again.

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

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

Usually, silence was Rosalee's stronghold, it offered her solace and peace, a reality away from reality, if you will. It was calming. Kept her safe. Silence gave way to thought and allowed her the relaxation she needed, after the carnage of the day. There was no shouting, no screaming, no threats. It was quiet. She could just be. Only, right now, it wasn't so relaxing. Petyr, often so adept at talking, trailed off into the silence she loved so, and this time, the silence irked her; had fire scratching underneath her skin. Rosalee wanted an answer to her question, wanted to know what he wanted from all of this. And instead of an answer, he left her to question, mind swarming with the possibilities of the what words were sealed away in his lungs. The words had spilt from her mouth like ink as emotions took over, flooding the space between them with the memories she treasured so. Petyr spoke his translation before gazing down at his hands when she spoke of his nervous tell, her unsure whether he felt touched or dejected by her attention to the little things. Rosalee meet his eyes, a bright, pure emotion she couldn't put a name to soared in the dark tawnys of his charming eyes; swirling around the galaxies that rested there. The sight was breath-taking, and she found herself captured by it, the breath stolen from her lungs. Of course I did, Petyr, I still do. I tucked them safely away in my memory, and... and sometimes I repeat them to myself as not to forget. I've forgotten many things about my life, but not you. I refuse to lose you and our memories. And now it was her turn to look away from him. All of a sudden, the turncoat reached outwards to grasp her hand, a rapid motion that caused her to flinch; grip tightening on the knife she held in brief distress. But of course, his intentions were far from cruel, she realised this as her pretty eyes fell upon his handsome face. He then took audacity into his heart as he closed the physical distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a flurry of emotion. At first, she froze like a deer caught in the headlights, only to relax as everything -- the argument, the earlier anger and the entire earth -- just faded away to let them just be. Rosie melted, the knife in her grip clattering to the floor as her arms threw themselves around his shoulders to keep him close, the assassin not daring to break the captivating moment for the world. Adrenaline was quick to surge throughout her veins just like an electrical storm on an apocalyptical scale, intoxicating her mind and soul. It was absolutely breathtaking. Even her rapid heartbeat only began to pound all the more, skipping over itself as it became fueled by the supercharged blood that now thrummed freely in her ears. She wound a hand through the soft locks atop Petyr's head during the time that her eyes decided to fall shut. And when, only when her lungs finally cried out for air did she pull back, her light forehead pressed softly to his whilst she leant against him; eyes still firmly closed and breathing heavy.

"I am glad one of us does," the smile that he wore suited him, far above the par that with the scarf he sported did. He then proceeded to fix her hair, tying the often unruly curls into a ponytail that cascaded down the leather of the cloak strapped to her back. The kiss he placed on her forehead had her cheeks growing warm, head angling itself downwards out of what could only be described as slight shyness. "Assumptions do not suit you, my dearest turncoat." she scoffed in a gentle manner, her will unbreakable as to the topic of price. "I will be long gone by the time the merchandise is missed. I can assure you that," she murmured, eyebrows raising at Petyr's incredibly teasing tone. Rosalee's eyes watched his feet as he attempted to follow suit with the motions she made. After pausing for a brief frown in his direction at his apparent frustration, she squeezed his hands reassuringly. "Your ankles. Bend them towards each other slightly... so you are leaning on the inside arch of your foot." Rosie moved backwards with her arms outstretched, increasing the distance between them while still holding tightly onto his hands. "Shift your weight onto the foot to plan to keep on the ice, the push off and to the side with the toes of your other foot. Not straight down, but out to the side, as if you are trying to flick off a piece of dirt lodged on your boot." she demonstrated her god awful explanation with her foot in the air, the toe end of the blade slicing backwards and to the side at an angle. She motioned this twice for him.

[important]

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

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

Petyr knew all too well of the retreat silence offered her, giving her something that the knight had fought so hard to give— comfort, reassurance. It was an odd concept to him, drawing that from something that emanated the thought of nothing. How could anyone do that? Be still, let the world stop, and for quiet to surround them? He sure as hell couldn't do it himself, always desperate to end the long pause and fill in the gaps of time with words, noise, something that proved to him that this was real, that everything was here and wouldn't disappear in a matter of a moment's touch. Yet, Petyr had grown to love the damning thing in an effort to better understand his assassin. So it was him, this time, rather than her, that took to the growing silence that formed between them. Petyr's emotions were a horrible thing, absolutely twisted inside of his mind with no place to go. Often times he'd find himself caught between two or more of them, only to ultimately end up with frustration at the end. This time, at this moment, those emotions of his were alive and well, pushing through his thoughts and trying to force him to think of something better to say to her, but he couldn't form anything. Nothing. Yet, it was the words spoken with her eyes that saved him, the turncoat finally taking to speaking up, motioning to his eyes with two fingers, sweeping them downwards and away. "You try to hide your face. Your eyes, from me, when I do certain things. I am not sure if it is because you are scared to let me know that you feel, or if it is because you do not know how to feel, but you do." He forced his nerves to calm down, as if gathering his courage to continue talking as he exhaled. "When you speak to me, you always sound unsure of yourself. Doubtful of your own words, as if you do not trust them. Your actions tell the same story, when you move to help me." his hand then fell from his gesture, Petyr allowing them to rest stationary at his sides. "Everyone believes Rosalee Dagenhart to be surefooted, confident, and strong. And she is, do not be mislead. But when you close the door and leave her with Petyr Lécuyer, that certainty seems to fall away. Why is that?" a question, finally. He didn't necessarily expect an answer, but he wished to give her something to think about. Ponder over. Petyr silently noted the flinch she gave in response to his touch, but pushed away all of his doubts towards her reaction, instead letting it fuel that oddly placed spark of bravery he'd found. Rosalee's initial reaction when their lips met nearly made the turncoat falter, but instead of pulling away, she allowed her knife to fall from her hand, it hitting the ground with a noise that Petyr hardly heard. The only thing he could really pinpoint and focus on was the rapid yet uneven beating of her pulse, alive underneath her skin. His eyes shut as her fingers found way through his hair, him trying to steal a quick intake of breath through his nose in response to the action. Each and every move Rosalee offered to him like this would only end up being the death of him, but when it came down to moments like these, he wanted nothing more than to die because at least his last thought would be that she loved him, too. And that was all Petyr had ever wanted. So, naturally, he hadn't wanted to pull away from her, but his quickened heart rate had begun to slow as his body forced itself to spare what oxygen he had left. He'd been left in a state of almost dizziness when the two finally broke away, the hand he had resting on her cheek sliding to rest on the back of her head, short nails gently pressed into the base of her scalp as she rested their foreheads together. The reprieve allowed for his racing mind to catch up with the rest of him, Petyr just glad to hold her in that perfect silence of hers like this.

He could only shoot her a look in his response, his eyes narrowed before he allowed himself to laugh. "You leave me with all the heavy lifting! Why can't I be the pretty one with the blades?" he sighed with a shake of his head at his own quip. "Might I say, you are a very beautiful woman— I nearly forgot what you looked like, as I'm so used to looking at you through your hair." His compliment was put in with his world-class humour, yet his serious expression gave nothing away. "I work off fact. Do not let me forget this." Petyr frowned just slightly, but decided to dismiss the topic. He'd have to check through the vendors in attempt to find the price of the scarf. After his attempt to listen to Rosalee's instruction in order to learn to skate on the ice as she did, of course. He replicated the movements she described, face scrunching at the oddity of the new movements he'd never had to put into his normal walking routine. As Rosie moved further away from him, his grip on her hands only tightened, jaw clenching as he silently reminded her of the promise she made to not let go of him. Petyr shifted his weight accordingly, the move causing his other foot to draw backwards, which made the move of pushing off with it a bit easier, it propelling him forward. He made a noise of surprise at his success, his eyes widening slightly as he continued to watch her pair of skates as they glided in a seamless manner across the ice. The turncoat repeated this once more, except with the opposite foot, it again pushing him closer to the assassin. An unshakeable grin was now set upon his features as he looked to her, the grip he had on her hands loosening but not quite giving away. "Like this?" he asked, searching for her reassurance.

[ oh no, sorry i made that first paragraph so long. i was going to split it into two, but... ]

[rogue,]

♔ ––xＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴ

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

It was a mystery to her, the way in which Petyr found discomfort in the quiet. Perhaps it was a certain aspect of the quiet that rattled him, the one where thoughts bubbled up from swamps like a plague, the questions that swarmed in his mind reminiscent of an infestation. Maybe even, while consumed by silence, the knight was still buried beneath cacophony of sound driven by his own traitorous thoughts; the ones that seemed adamant on cutting him at the knee. Like so many other things about him, it left Rosalee to wonder. She was quick to catch onto his movements, the gesture he produced causing her eyes to flash briefly, head, and even her body, angling itself away from Petyr at his words. Why the need to look away? Simply, why? "I hide my face because I'm not supposed to hold emotions... I, I do not know what to do with them, how to react to them, all I have been taught relies on me holding the strength to push them aside... I do not like the idea of people, strangers knowing how I feel, or that I do feel, for instance." Petyr, the one who read her eyes like none other, the only one who could see past the blank stares and concealed fire in order to discern the words that Rosie dare not speak. "I just don't like people knowing. Emotions can... they can be exploited." Or maybe, just maybe they had been. They held no place during a mission, and ergo, hold no place outside of one, either. Just admitting this to him had her skin prickling, her backing up a step as it started to shiver and flinch whenever she tried to scratch at her elbow. Her gaze flickered back to him in a effort to ignore the spikes of pain that fired through her synapses. "I am the perfect weapon." Rosie answered, far too quickly for her liking. Barely a beat passed before the had words escaped. "I know how to act on missions, in the outside world as an assassin." Simple enough, he'd seen her skill firsthand. But inside? When she could be herself with him? "Petyr... I-I," the answer was there, but it didn't want to be spoken, didn't want to be acknowledged because once it was acknowledged, that made it real. "As... as foolish and unreasonable and stupid as it sounds, without Christoph telling me how to act outside of a mission... I just don't think I know how to." To her it was strange, it was as though Rosalee Dagenhart had died that night, and something else, something more sinister had slithered in to take her place. But that thing didn't know how to behave behind closed doors; it was programmed to kill and get the job done, not to think and feel. It didn't understand what to do when it was given free reign. "You were once a knight, you understand orders. It gave you a purpose, follow through and complete the tasks, but you were always more than the orders... you always kept a part of yourself, didn't you? I... I do not think I did." Petyr's sudden burst of bravery wasn't unwelcome by the assassin, admittedly, at first, it had been, but now he made his intentions clear through one simple action -- words simply weren't needed anymore. He managed to pour every ounce of feeling, such heart-rendering feeling, into that one action than even a thousand of his honey-coated words couldn't have matched it. It conveyed a moment of perfect understanding between the two; the one perfect moment that was reserved by the heavens just for them. In his embrace, Rosie was acutely aware of how he tried to prolong the kiss by grabbing at breath through his nose, an action that she followed suit on. All of her senses in regards to the turncoat heightened, and she never wanted the moment to end. And for the longest time, it didn't; her clinging to him as if he were the spark of life itself. But of course, all goods things came to and end, and by the time it had her head was practically swimming, completely unable to think of anything that didn't involve Petyr. Rosalee's eyes slowly opened as his nails grazed the base of her scalp, the assassin's own fingers twirling his soft hair around them. And unlike all those other times, she didn't shy away, didn't avert her gaze from him. She let him see the stunning variety of emotions that blazed across her eyes, unending traces of love attached to each and every one. The silence was her retreat, but for Petyr, she broke it with a whisper: "Do you... do you usually end all arguments like this?"

Rosalee's only counter was to shoot him her innocent look, eyes wide and glistening. "Pretty, you say? Only you would notice beauty over the danger, Sir Lécuyer." she teased in the kindest manner she could muster. With a roll of her fire-infused eyes, Rosie huffed at him. "The more you compliment me, the more inclined I am to hide behind my hair," she murmured, flicking the ponytail that Petyr had tied back over her shoulder so it fell down her front, waves of a reddish hue sparkling against the obsidian nature of the cloak she wore. To his next set of words, her expression turned wry. "My dear Petyr, I do not think you could forget even if you tried." she laughed. If Petyr could joke, then so would she. She adored the turncoat, her turncoat she could joke with, tease and challenge. Rosalee had slowed her movements to a crawl, to allow Petyr time to figure out how to move efficiently on the ice. Catching onto his sudden strike of fear, Rosie squeezed his hands tenderly and dipped her head in promise. I gave you my word. She affirmed, watching his actions closely in case she needed to quickly support him, the assassin's keen senses on point in terms of Petyr's own well-being. Petyr's sudden noise relaying his success caused her to beam at him, expression warm and inviting as he managed to glide towards her twice in quick succession. It was an achievement, her keeping still and revelling in his charming grin. Rosie brought him close by his hands, and pressed a little kiss to his nose. "Petyr! I knew you could, I have not doubted you yet. You continue to impress," she chuckled, squeezing his hands once before backing up again. "Believe you can skate to me again?" she challenged sweetly, no hint of the usual defiance to her challenges, only genuine kindness.

[important]

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

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

He'd lost her again the moment she turned away from him, Petyr closing his eyes and allowing himself a moment to think. He shook his head almost immediately after she spoke, clearly disagreeing with the outlooks Christoph had when it came down to emotions. "They are not quite such a vile thing, Rosie. Feelings, how you feel, and how you express those-- those are the things that set to define you. And I know you care, mon chéri." he reached out to her, gently brushing his hand across the side of her face. "Even if you do not show it, your eyes do." That was certainly an odd way to look at it-- using a man's emotions against him to create a weakness against them, and by extension, destroy them. It was plausible, but truly, what man went to battle and held thoughts like that? Petyr had yet to witness even his immense amount of emotions be turned as an edge held against him. As she took a step back from him, by instinct, he reached out to her, taking hold of her forearm, though not moving much closer. "You are so much more than that, Rosie. That may be what he told you, but it's not true, you can't..." he broke off from his thought as his mind began centreing itself around his father, the man whom had caused her so much pain. And though it seemed almost irrational, Petyr felt somewhat responsible for that hurt, which was an outright assassination of innocence that had been dealt upon her at such an early age. If he recalled her words correctly, she'd been only eight years of age at the time-- and Petyr could hardly imagine the same that happened to her occuring to his brother, only a year younger than she. Orders. Those were something Petyr knew all too well, having spent a good eight years of his life learning exactly how to execute them in a manner of perfection-- As in his line of work, if errors were made, death could easily follow. Because though this was the eighteenth century, the guard operated on a strict, yet heavily outdated code of conduct. Failure to meet expectations was taken as a sign of a traitor, and they were swiftly eliminated. "I did not know where that part of me was until I met you, Rosie. I was nothing more than a piece of machinery before you found me." Absolute and utter nothing. He'd taken to passiveness as a knight, dwelling on steady silences and communicating with hard glares. Who he was had been almost entirely erased, but Rosalee pulled it back, refused to let him forget. Now no longer one such knight, Petyr was through with following orders of any kind. But he still understood exactly what it meant to bend your knee to another's commanding voice. In a way, it was a reprieve-- You didn't have to think for yourself when you listened to other people outright tell you what to do, when to do it, and the way they wanted it done.

A silence formed between the two after they pulled away from each other (they still didn't completely do that, what with holding each other as closely as they were), but Petyr didn't attempt to break it. Instead, the turncoat took to listening to the rapid beats of her heart, paired with his breathing which seemed almost in sync with her pulse. Petyr felt (rather than saw, as his own were shut) her eyes open and fall to him, causing him to gaze upwards and to her, the air in his lungs stealing away from him at the sight he was met with. Her eyes always held an unique beauty to them, their complimenting colours alone being something he'd never seen before. But it wasn't the colours that got to him this time, no-- this time, he saw nothing but the pure emotion that existed there, changing each time the light caught the different facets of colour. Yet, the all held the same idea, one that only swelled his heart-- his feelings-- for her all the more. That moment of quietness was soon broken-- this time by her, rather than Petyr. The turncoat relaxed a bit more as she began talking, even if her voice was hushed. Though at the actual question, he couldn't help a soft breath of laughter. "If that were the case, then half of the men back in France would be extremely jealous of the position you own in my heart, and be desperate to replace you," he replied with his own quiet voice, the corners of his lips quirked upwards slightly.

Petyr had been given that look of hers so often in the past twenty four hours that he'd started to doubt the air of innocence and can-do-no-wrong feel it had. "Or, perhaps, it is the danger I find beautiful, Miss Dagenhart." Or both. (Probably both.) With her combined huff and roll of her eyes, Petyr was half tempted to clip her shoulder, but instead opted for narrowing his eyes at her comment. "Please, I quite like seeing it away from your eyes and out of your face." The turncoat watched as she pulled her hair over her shoulder, and though he sighed, he knew it was better than the alternative. He also knew, however, that she needn't oblige to his preferences and change her appearance; because afterall, he'd fallen in love with her version of herself, not his version of her. Forgetting was something Petyr was horrible at-- he'd seemed to remember almost every event that took place from when he was younger, up until this very point in time. Yet, it was details that would always end up killing him. He couldn't focus on one set thing, he had to step back and look to the entire picture. (That was one of the main reasons as to why he'd been so fascinated by the idea that Rosalee took time to remember all the small, insigificant things about him.)

As she slowed for him, Petyr had to thank her, opting to do so with a flick of his eyes in her direction. And I never once doubted it. Her word was law, afterall. The support she gave him was completely nonverbal, and almost entirely mental for him, installing confidence in each movement he made on the ice. The kiss she pressed to his nose made the turncoat laugh, eyes briefly shutting as he squeezed her hands. "All thanks to your teachings," he quickly turned her compliment towards him onto her with nothing more than a shake of his head and a slight smile. Rosie then moved away like she had before, Lécuyer nodding at her question. Now that he'd (mostly) had the move down, replicating it wouldn't be a problem. So he did just that, positioning his feet and leaning slightly to one side, pushing outwards with the other foot, which like before, brought him towards the assassin. He looked up from the ice once more, letting his hands drop from hers. Which was a mistake on his part, as the former knight nearly lost his balance, but he was quick to catch it as he readjusted the stance he took, now stationary on the ice without the physical support of Rosalee. Petyr's gaze was then stolen when he heard a noise from the side of the river-- a small child laughing, tugging on the hem of her father's shirt. His attention was siphoned immediately to the small family-- two little girls, both no older than ten years, as well as their mother and father. There seemed to be a set up of carnival styled games, which caused his eyes to light up as he watched one of the girls toss a small, blunt dart at a fragile glass, it shattering the object upon contact. And for the small girl's efforts, the vendor smiled warmly and handed her a small stuffed bear, which she turned to immediately show her mother and father. "Rosie--" he said her name to get her attention, so that she could see the same scene he was. "Would it be all right if we skated to the other side of the river? I... I think I can go without your help, this time. I would like to try, at least..."