Saartjie
holy water cannot help you now
i don't want your money or your crown
i don't want your money or your crown
The seconds ticked by as they stood in silence, Saartjie waiting for Nate to answer her question and him seeming as though he were trying to figure out how to answer her. When he finally did speak it wasn't to answer her question, but to mention the bruises on her face. She lifted her hand, her fingers gently touching the darkening skin by her eye as she wondered what he had that could work on a bruise. Back home she'd simply cover it up with makeup and pretend like it didn't happen -- like every well trained and obedient wife did. Her jaw clenched momentarily and her hand dropped back by her side. "Okay." She answered and waited for him to lead her to a place where they could both sit rather than stand in the hallway.
An eyebrow raised at his next statement. "I didn't say you lied." Saartjie responded, though she was now admittedly a little suspicious. Liars were usually the ones that claimed they weren't liars. Her head tilted as she studied him, eyes narrowing a bit at the expression on his face. He seemed conflicted ... almost scared. But of what? Of her? "I'm not going to hurt you." Saartjie assured him. "I have no reason to." So far all he had done since he had found her was help her.
"You have a brother dodn't you? Sunjata?"
Before she could say anything Nate raised his hand in, what she assumed, was a plea for her to remain quiet so he could continue. Saartjie pressed her lips together and waited, but she couldn't help but stare at the scar that stretched across his palm ... and the ring on his finger. As though he sensed her staring at it he closed his hand into a fist and pulled his hand back before he continued on. "Betrokke." she repeated, obviously surprised by the admission. It was ... unheard of where she and Sunjata came from. Men and women were forced into arranged marriages by their parents more often than not and their marriages were just for politics.
Without saying anything else, Saartjie reached for Nate's hand. Her fingers closed around his wrist and she pulled his hand toward her and stared down at his palm. There, right in front of her was the scar. She ran her index finger along it, brow furrowing because she knew what it meant. "You're married..." She said and she held her own hand up, palm open, next to Nate's. The scars were nearly identical, but that was typically the case with that outdated tradition.
She was still holding Nate's wrist in her other hand when she looked up to meet his gaze. "Is he happy?" She asked, because it was truly the only thing that mattered to her. She didn't care who he married, as long as he was happy.
"."
ooc:// Nate
Translation: Betrokke - involved
An eyebrow raised at his next statement. "I didn't say you lied." Saartjie responded, though she was now admittedly a little suspicious. Liars were usually the ones that claimed they weren't liars. Her head tilted as she studied him, eyes narrowing a bit at the expression on his face. He seemed conflicted ... almost scared. But of what? Of her? "I'm not going to hurt you." Saartjie assured him. "I have no reason to." So far all he had done since he had found her was help her.
"You have a brother dodn't you? Sunjata?"
Before she could say anything Nate raised his hand in, what she assumed, was a plea for her to remain quiet so he could continue. Saartjie pressed her lips together and waited, but she couldn't help but stare at the scar that stretched across his palm ... and the ring on his finger. As though he sensed her staring at it he closed his hand into a fist and pulled his hand back before he continued on. "Betrokke." she repeated, obviously surprised by the admission. It was ... unheard of where she and Sunjata came from. Men and women were forced into arranged marriages by their parents more often than not and their marriages were just for politics.
Without saying anything else, Saartjie reached for Nate's hand. Her fingers closed around his wrist and she pulled his hand toward her and stared down at his palm. There, right in front of her was the scar. She ran her index finger along it, brow furrowing because she knew what it meant. "You're married..." She said and she held her own hand up, palm open, next to Nate's. The scars were nearly identical, but that was typically the case with that outdated tradition.
She was still holding Nate's wrist in her other hand when she looked up to meet his gaze. "Is he happy?" She asked, because it was truly the only thing that mattered to her. She didn't care who he married, as long as he was happy.
"."
ooc:// Nate
Translation: Betrokke - involved
you see, i've come
to burn your kingdom to the ground
to burn your kingdom to the ground
