Aurelia
as if you were on fire
from within
from within
She's not saying anything else about it, thanks very much. Also, no, it's not a good thing! Fucker. The amount of care he's taking to carve as much detail into his decoration is a little disturbing, though, but it's like watching a head-on collision. Can't look away. Her expression just grows more dead-inside than ever as he progresses, unperturbed by her jokes, and she thinks she can see veins.
Right, alas.
It's nothing short of a blessing that he stops working on it, honestly, but by then the nature of the conversation has taken a turn. And Aurelia's not impressed by Jack's excuses for his father, or his father's excuses for Jack. Whichever way it went didn't make it any better.
However, she can't really take it out on him, and his sudden change of expression makes her feel guilty for it, so she simmers down a bit. Her hand, the one with the letter in it, droops down to her lap.
She tips her head to look at him more directly, raising her gaze expectantly, questioningly. Silently asking, You really want me to get rid of it? She doesn't wait for anything, though, before she sets the letter down in the middle of the desk, the word 'murderer' on display for them to see. Reaching into one of her pockets, she holds out a box of matches toward him, which is a very pointed gesture. "As much as I'd like to, it's not mine to get rid of...and I wouldn't get anything out of it, except maybe... the fact I'd be doing it for you but, I still don't think it's for me to do," her tone is softer, like she's trying to prod him - but gently. It's his choice, of course, she won't force him to do it. But she won't do it for him, either. Her gaze examines his expression a little harder. "You don't actually... believe him... do you?"
Right, alas.
It's nothing short of a blessing that he stops working on it, honestly, but by then the nature of the conversation has taken a turn. And Aurelia's not impressed by Jack's excuses for his father, or his father's excuses for Jack. Whichever way it went didn't make it any better.
However, she can't really take it out on him, and his sudden change of expression makes her feel guilty for it, so she simmers down a bit. Her hand, the one with the letter in it, droops down to her lap.
She tips her head to look at him more directly, raising her gaze expectantly, questioningly. Silently asking, You really want me to get rid of it? She doesn't wait for anything, though, before she sets the letter down in the middle of the desk, the word 'murderer' on display for them to see. Reaching into one of her pockets, she holds out a box of matches toward him, which is a very pointed gesture. "As much as I'd like to, it's not mine to get rid of...and I wouldn't get anything out of it, except maybe... the fact I'd be doing it for you but, I still don't think it's for me to do," her tone is softer, like she's trying to prod him - but gently. It's his choice, of course, she won't force him to do it. But she won't do it for him, either. Her gaze examines his expression a little harder. "You don't actually... believe him... do you?"
the moon lives
in the lining of your skin
in the lining of your skin
