Ophelia sat at a folding table, perched in the afternoon's sun, with a large umbrella posted at an angle behind her; said sun-shield had holes shorn through it, like the trim of a lace bra, and cast shadows of the Greek alphabet around her. Before her, the well-mounted pole of her favorite negotiation point of the rooftop was currently being tested. From it, a length of coarse rope, like that of a sailing ship, was wound around it, over and over, to create a stable support. Then, it was drawn through itself, and looped over a pipe; from which, that could be pulled and drawn back the bound captive on the end.

For the second time -- in one day, no less -- the exchange student had employed the fear of the falling to one's own death as a means to acquire something. In this case, answers.

"Suicide Bride," Ophelia says, sipping at her tea, before dunking a crumpet into the luxuriously smooth Earl Grey, "did you tell her something that made her jump this morning? And, please, don't pretend like you aren't aware of this."

            ~[i]Empress, you waste your time on this swine. Perish this fool's excuse of a man. A woman of your stature has more important things to worry about.[/i]~ Above the cries of mercy, the pleading drama of a worthless man caught in his wrongdoings, her confidant spoke. Lucius Siccis Dentatus, a man that exemplified respect and power, as she learned, yet lived in her bra-pocket as a mere trading card for some American game. ~[i]I am surprised you didn't choose to investigate one of the murders this morning. Normally, you would pine for any reason out of socioeconomic class -- especial on a test day.[/i]~

 "I know, Lucius, I know," Ophelia says, looked at her captive, while he stared at the ground, so far away. "However, if I don't come to the defense of this poor girl... who will? Besides, as you always tell me, business before pleasure." Ophelia sipped her tea, and her Irish accent bled back into her words, "Now, I'll ask one more time, lad: Suicide Bride, what did you say to her? And, don't lie to me, boyo, or you'll be testing your landing skills. Something tells me, you'll land with more finality."

[@The Irish Tree]