.:flame:.
The dawn insinuates itself through leaded windows, curving around columns, through porticos on curious cat-feet. Tendrils of mist whisper and wind, softening the light into an autumn shroud, clinging and dove-grey. On mornings such as these, Volterra's palazzo seems to slumber, its inhabitants entombed in their gloomy chambers until the bells chime the Angelus, marking the pulse that wakes the city.
Curled amidst rose-tinted silk, a delicate collection of sonnets pressed beneath her fingers, Sulpicia smiles like a contented kitten. Serenity and solitude are precious things, rare amidst the squabbles and raised voices that are the warp and weft threading the tapestry of her coven's bonds.
She expects the silence to linger uninterrupted for a few hours yet, untouched until the guards disentangle themselves from night's shadows and demand the attention of their masters, as boisterous children often do. No matter; Marcus can attend to them, should the need arise.
It is then that the quiet is scythed to ribbons by a single, choked scream that rattles between jagged agony and surprise. Sulpicia's fear is immediate, frigid flame lapping at the cavity in her chest; the tenor and pitch of Aro's voice is unmistakable, and it plucks a cold melody on the strings of her still heart.
=/=
Caius grits his teeth in ill-suppressed rage, while Athenodora at his side looks mildly concerned. Marcus' face is a perfect paper mask and Sulpicia is suddenly ashamed of her fright, the baseless, rushing sentiment of a woman who cares too deeply.
The sight before them is a tableau of majesty brought low. Aro reclines awkwardly against the wall, his chest falling with pained, unnecessary breaths. Beside him, Jane clasps her hands, her spun-sugar features contorted in an expression of perfect woe.
"My dear ones, you needn't have worried," Aro explains, his voice soft, harmless as falling feathers. "I merely asked Jane to show me her gift. It was...ah, unexpectedly potent."
"You are a damned fool! You trusted this child, this mad little girl with your life, with our future on a whim?" Caius is beyond coherence and reason. "Would it truly be too difficult to consider consequences?" He departs without a glance behind, and it is only Athenodora's hand on the small of his spine that prevents a shattered door in his wake. Marcus follows, wordless and uncaring.
Sulpicia stands alone then, in front of this shivering, shuddering girl and her shaken mate. She is certain that relief is called for, or sympathy perhaps, but only betrayal of the strangest sort rushes through her, sudden and molten.
Aro gives his confidence to this Jane, this guard without meaning, and she loathes the knot of closeness looping them together.
She spares the girl a look, quick and careless as that given to rat by a hawk, before ghosting away, leaving Aro with nothing but the memory of fire.
Author's Note: Somewhere in New Moon, Aro mentioned that Jane used her gift on him, at his request. I imagine that took quite a bit of trust between the two, which implies some closeness in their relationship. Of course, Sulpicia is not pleased. Bad things happen when Sulpicia is not pleased.
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