"Would you like some tea, Valkyrie?"
Clarabelle stands up and brandishes an exquisite porcelain tea pot. Valkyrie smiles beatifically and nods. Her little porcelain cup is filled with hot liquid. "Thank you, Clarabelle," Valkyrie says, taking the cup gratefully.
"Think nothing of it," Clarabelle smiles, sitting down. She pours herself a cup and watches the steam rise from its depths. There is a vacancy in her dazzlingly blue eyes, something that makes Valkyrie think that perhaps she is not all there. But then again, neither is she, and who is she to judge?
"Somebody once told me you can see your future in the bottom of a cup," she murmurs, circling the rim of hers with a delicate finger. Valkyrie takes a sip of hers – the liquid scolds her throat pleasantly – and raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And what do you see in yours?" she asks.
Clarabelle pauses, stops her circling. Valkyrie watches her hand distractedly. "I see... death," she replies in a soft voice, before looking up at Valkyrie. Valkyrie, in turn, stares back. There is some sort of frisson between the two, a sort of magnetism that connects them in those few moments.
It's at that moment Valkyrie begins to feel sluggish. Her eyelids flutter, her mouth parts faintly. Clarabelle watches as she slackens, leaning on the back of her chair heavily. "You – you poisoned me."
Her voice is weak and strangely, not accusing.
Clarabelle nods, her face almost melancholic. "I did. So we can be together," she explains, before taking a sip of her own cup.
I have death in my head and it does me no good.
I should stop reading Shakespeare. Or drinking coffee.
Anymore pairings?