Lutece barely pays mind to the statement.
The notion was feasible, but never would Rosalind confide in the public,
let alone her own sibling, for that matter. Warm gestures as these were never
exchanged between any, save for the occasion affections that took the form of
a gentle grip or even a stroke along the rim of his jaw bone… The devotion for
Robert exceeded any ever induced and his person took precedence, but no, this
information would never reach those ears— for his own sake. Rosalind hadn’t
wished to potentially strike nerves, but it would be much more beneficial to them
both if she remained silent.. That is, unless both these women had grown
excessively committed toward one another and been ruled vital.
Further more, Lutece hadn’t been the sort to act impulsively concerning these
salutes… Lest the conditions had called for it (which they presumably wouldn’t).
Had this matter progressed accordingly, there had been reason to speculate that
it would not be the physicist to initiate this embrace but instead, the scientist.
It meant no difference to her how this notion
would be brought about and made reality.
Lutece would say nothing. Neither would she imply an affirmation.
( titanomyrma )
It was on odd thought, the one that anyone could look at Rosalind and not think fondly of her. The woman was as beautiful as she was intelligent, but she supposed, Columbia had a way of revering the wrong kind of person. “Is there a reason why I should not?”
Yet such gestures of affection had always been limited, even dear Alfred did not receive as much genuine flattery. Something she’d think on later, surely. “I have missed you dearly. Tell me, won’t you, where your adventures led you?”
Not as bizarre as it was common. In spite of this aspect, the physicist
had failed to bare any personal interest with varying perspectives. Many regarded
her profoundly miraculous, others had not– thought her person was more valuable
in apropos of Columbia’s technologies. “That’s hardly for myself to decide.”
Countering with an ever so obscure pitch, but it had been enough for Ashford to
comprehend that it was mere play.
But another prospect these women held correspondingly.“Diverse locations,
Columbia being one of the most prominent in my excursions. But what of you,
Alexia? One could only presume that your life as of late had been much more
eventful than mine."
( titanomyrma )
Rosalind’s affirmation caused her smile to widen, an odd warmth resulting as the other spoke. Alexia watched, thumb running along the length of the other’s hand idly. Her kiss had not been met with anything but content, a perfect response. Perhaps another would be too soon.
“I am glad. Yes, I have been well. My brother has been gone some time, but I do not concern myself with such matters. Not when you have been absent.”
While it had been that this pair of uncannily akin women had indeed grown and watered the budding oddity between them, there lingered hesitancy. More so out of the deficiency concerning experience though, which of the two, had been all the more evident in that Lutece woman.
“You think so fondly of me.” A comment that had retained varying tendencies, the more evident being gratitude and empathy. It hadn’t been a burden, for just as much thought and heart had been entangled in the blonde as it was for the field (if not, slightly less)– but there would always be unease. It was simply in her nature. “Comforting now that I’m back where I’m familiar.”
Opposition wasn’t present and nor would it ever be when it came to the blonde’s method of recognition. Despite having been terribly unfamiliar with this sort of company, Lutece welcomed it with ever so subtle gestures: a shut of the eyes, the easing of both limbs and fingers, so on, so forth. With these sort of responses the woman needed no verbal affirmation. Alexia had been astutely observational and held the dexterity of a feline when pertaining to body language… One could only assume that by this greeting, she had been easily able to ease or charm anyone that might have crossed her path.
Thankfully, Lutece had been one of those few. While eyelids fluttered themselves ajar in order to get one final visual of the woman’s plum hued frock as Alexia departed, the apples of the physicist’s face had been flourishing. With her face now ruddy, brows uncoil and any soft composure was tightened, long gone and far off. Of course, sentiments were still spurting within her gut and were likely not to disappear any time soon. As long as she remained in mind, so did these tingles. Rosalind refused to let such effects obstruct her character though, which explained a rather callous expression riddling her freckled visage.
Alexia Ashford: the only woman whom induced collision regarding her sense of thought and principles had only now pressed her lips flush against her very flesh. Albeit it was only upon the apple of one of her cheeks, it meant more than one could ever fathom. Thoughts would spire and overrule any sort of performance that might have been expected from her.
Surely, it would make few wonder. For the only instance she had conducted herself in a resembling manner had been when she first began speaking with none other than her sibling, Robert.
( titanomyrma )
“Indeed, I have missed you.”
Uttered like some secret confession, the rarity of a smile reserved only for the physicist. Such sentimentality did not fit her.Slender hands reached over to take the other’s, an unnatural softness for a woman made of fire and ash, a quick, chaste kiss given as if it was nothing more than shaking hands. “You have been well, I hope?”
Warmth hadn’t been a characteristic often perceived, but as of this point it practically exuded her very being. Madam Ashford had been nothing but welcoming, a body which would always be associated with her contentedness.
“Nothing but.” Countering with the faintest trace of satisfaction through her hasty gesture. Highly far from anticipated but not disliked whatsoever. “I could only imagine that you have been just as well?” If not, hopefully she would allow Lutece to tend toward this impasse.
( titanomyrma )
“Rosalind…”
“Alexia. It has been some time since I've had
the pleasure of your ever so indulging company.”
Rarely does anyone show her such gentle gestures, even Alfred - the only one ever allowed to get close enough, refrains from such actions - Rosalind is full of surprises. Perhaps even courage, to extend a hand towards a woman more like coal than sunlight. “Ah - perhaps I should cut it before it begins to get in the way.” Oddly enough, elaborate styles and routine trimmings have never been deemed a worthwhile way to spend time for the Ashford. Lips curve in a soft smile, one reserved for Rosalind and Rosalind only, before reaching to take the other’s hand in her own.
[ alexia ashford ]
Her confidant. An unexpected confirmation from the physicist, but one that cause greyed lips to curl and crack as golden eyes shifted to focus on her present company. ”Ah - ‘tis a symptom of the virus. It mutates the host - those who have not had sufficient time to adapt - into monstrous creatures. Regarding myself, there are three forms of mutation. This is simply the first - a preferred one of mine, when compared to the other two, though the power increases with each new stage.”
Even now, the metal casing of the bullets that had strayed into flesh were luminescent, heated in the walls of her skin and glowing a vibrant orange against the monotone colours of her form. “I assure you, there is nothing to worry about, Rosalind. There is something…liberating, about this form.” The spindly branches once slender fingers gestured to sit beside her.
Brows incidentally found themselves knotted. Although there was assurance, the redhead found herself considerably anxious since this state, despite being robust by her standards, would be operated for nothing other than demolition. One could only wonder the tiers that were involved in this said mutation and whether that same level of sanity found in her regularly had remained conscious in these unnatural archetypes.
"I could only imagine what that must be like.“ Partially implying the the most evident aspect to her being; the lack of dress. Concealed in these words had been her own yearning to sever herself from an origin that would remained unnamed as of now. Deliverance had been granted in their dissolution, but Logos thirsted for more. "I would be most somber if the odds aren’t in your favor, dear Alexia.” Acceding in this gesture, Lutece approaches with hues concentrated along the dim illumination provided by attempted carnage.
