[ Her hand still hovering over her sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice, his motions give her pause. It was as if she saw him, and yet like there was something else that made her nervous about him. Not quite frightened, but alert, almost twitchy.
(But if he was dancing like she asked, then maybe he was...)
And after a moment of watching him, her hand slowly began to lower, her brows knitted in conflicted apprehension. ]
How do I know that you're—
[ If he meant to hurt her, would he really do ask she asked? Or was he simply trying to lull her into a false sense of security before striking? Was this the curse, or..? ]
no subject
(But if he was dancing like she asked, then maybe he was...)
And after a moment of watching him, her hand slowly began to lower, her brows knitted in conflicted apprehension. ]
How do I know that you're—
[ If he meant to hurt her, would he really do ask she asked? Or was he simply trying to lull her into a false sense of security before striking? Was this the curse, or..? ]
That you're who I think you are?