~~Antoinette~~
"Feeling better, old friend?"
Daniel managed a small nod as he sat down across from her. Deep in her tower, in one of her offices, the two could discuss matters privately, without fear of spies or accidental ears from a wandering Samantha. A quiet room of soundproofed walls, with only two chairs, a single desk, and little else. A room she and her sheriff used rarely, and only when to speak of the most painful of situations.
The fact her old friend sat, instead of standing as he usually preferred, was sign enough.
"Your boyfriend hits hard."
Antoinette could not help but chuckle. "You know very well my little Terry could do nothing of the sort, even if he wanted to. The curse is what allows him such power."
"Perhaps. He was always unusually skilled."
"True, but there is a difference between natural skill, and what the curse is capable of."
"True indeed." Daniel rubbed one of his shoulders, and earned a wince. For her sheriff to make any sort of expression warranted note. "The curse hits hard. Will take another day to recover."
"I did not imagine you fighting the creature with your fists, Daniel. You know what terrible feats the curse has accomplished."
"It was either that, or use the sword, and then the curse would have... done whatever it wanted."
"The curse takes longer than a single second to summon his legion, according to Jack."
"Yes. But it could have tried anyway, and... I didn't want to use the sword."
Antoinette sighed, reached out, and touched her friend's knee. "I appreciate the risk you took. My love appreciates it as well. But... but the Masquerade is more important than Jack, or you, or I."
He nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
They both looked down. Yes, Antoinette had just given her sheriff permission to kill Jack if it was the only way to save the Masquerade. Of course, while modern technology was a curse, it was also a useful tool. If yet another swarm of crows was seen in the city, the Prince and the Invictus had stories in place to prevent the media from spinning it into something supernatural. But then, hunters could see through such lies, and more would come. And with hunters, came yet larger Masquerade risks.
A delicate balance, and her sheriff flirted with it, for her.
"You are lucky," she said, "that the curse is smart enough to predict what would happen if it simply gave into its desires, and terrorized the city with its power." She would lock it and Jack away until a better course of action could be found. The idea was disheartening, but a better reality than his death, or the death of the Masquerade.
"Agreed." He rubbed through his shirt at a spot on his chest. "Didn't feel lucky at the time."
Was that... a joke? From her sheriff? Ah, of course. An evolution in her old friend's state of mind, from a private visit he made following his encounter with the curse. A visit last night that left Antoinette surprised and delighted.
"How did your visit to Athalia's go?"
Daniel eyed her. "Have you been spying on me, old friend?"
"Certainly not. But I have eyes and ears everywhere, as you well know. Are you surprised someone noticed you?"
"I didn't try and sneak there..." He did not look convinced. "The visit went well."
Grinning, Antoinette leaned forward and met her sheriff's eyes. "Quite well, I imagine."
"Ann..."
She put up her hands in surrender. "Forgive a Daeva her sexual curiosity. But I can see the twinkle in your eye, Daniel, despite your attempts to hide it. I think, perhaps, visiting Athalia while injured has awakened your relationship to a degree it did not have before?"
The cold stare was her confirmation. Daniel was a true master of hiding his expressions, but the two of them had worked together for centuries. It took little more than a small fidget of a finger, for her to see the man's heart; or at least his guilt over a night of sexual bliss.
"She... was surprised."
"That you came to her while injured?"
"Yes."
"Ben oui, she likely considers you a difficult man to penetrate, old friend." And what woman was not tickled by the classic romance plot of the wounded soldier and the nursing lady?
"I'm... not difficult."
"Come now. Far be it from me to criticize you, or to point fingers, or to call attention to the troubles you and your childe have had." Playful words, not meant to insult, but meant to draw attention to truth nonetheless. Daniel and Antoinette were comfortable enough with each other to navigate the most difficult and deadly of social mazes: offering criticism. "But, you are quite difficult. Women thrive on social cues, the meaning hidden in words and their inflections, the meaning in words said and not said, the stories shared in a glance. You, my old friend, offer little of this. Most would find it easier to strike a conversation with a stone."
He smiled; again, a small thing. "I suppose."
"Allow me to hypothesize how your evening with Athalia went."
"... alright."
"You visited her, perhaps unaware yourself as to why. Athalia was shocked to see the mighty sheriff injured. More shocked, to see he came to her while so vulnerable. And Athalia, a loud, angry, and scarred woman, found herself terribly uncomfortable by the circumstance. At first. But as the reality sank into her poor soul that you, old friend, decided to come to her to spend the rest of your night, she saw a side of you you had never shown before? Which led to some tender, and dare I say, emotional sex?"
While his steel gaze would have fooled most, Antoinette saw the break in his glare, the twitch in his lip, and the uncomfortable way he adjusted his glasses with a single finger.
"Yes." Yes. Of course, yes. The most direct response to man could possibly offer. "It went... well."
"I am happy for you."
"Though, she... she told me she uh, wants me to..."
"Allow me another guess. She wishes to disappear into her man's arms, and be treated like a naughty princess?"
"Naughty... princess?"
Antoinette laughed. "Come now, you know exactly what I mean. She wishes to be taken care of. Understandable. Athalia has suffered many hardships, and would love for someone else to take the reins of many aspects of her life. She is tired. And beneath that harsh, brutal visage she wears, there is a woman who wishes to bathe in the sweet bliss of being ravaged by a man in control." With a playful smile, Antoinette held out two palms over her lap. "In one hand, she wishes to be pampered, to recover from her life. In the other, she wishes to be taken, rendered helpless, and... fucked. Relentlessly."
Athalia was tragic in many ways. She did not want to be the ruthless woman she was, but her Begotten curse, combined with her traumatizing, guilt-laden past with her daughter, forced her to become an angry creature. Angry, resentful, and unwilling to let anyone get close, as if someone had given a wolverine the quills of a porcupine.
