“You must be a [i]riot[/i] at parties, darling.” Vasila parried a slicing shadow, taking no care to hide her shuddering breath. Keep him talking. Let him gloat his way right into an opening… "But if you must know, there is one good thing I’ve done with this life of mine.” She danced closer, leaping from gap to gap, a wall of flashing steel against the unyielding dark. She pressed in, but could not push it back. It cut her, but she did not feel it. And there, where no one who mattered could hear, she breathed a bitter whisper.

“I hitched my wagon to better people.”

White flashed behind the dark.

The priest fell like a limp sack.

The shadows disappeared, revealing her faithful Dolce. Here for her, as swiftly as if she’d called for him.

And she turned away. At once. The little she’d seen - he was already moving to her, his eyes, oh his eyes! - was enough. No more. Please.  Don’t make her see him. Don’t let him see her. Not like this. 

“Captain Vasilia, are you alright?”

Captain. [i]Captain.[/i] Her breath caught in her throat. She grabbed hold of it, and forced it past her lips. “I’m...fine, dear. Looks worse than it is. Smoke and mirrors, yes?”

He said nothing. She felt his gaze searching her, looking anxiously for every little detail she would give him, and so she gave him nothing. Nothing at all. No signs, no orders, no invitation to ask a single question more. 

If she really was his Captain, then she would have silence.

[Rolling to Finish with Sense: 6 + 6 + 1 = [b]13[/b]]