Care for a dance?

Absinth's eyes, though revealing nothing, absorbed every nuance of Sol and Khonsu's reactions. The weight of her gaze lingering as she saw surprise and shame wash over the more timid twin. Sol stumbled over his words, and Absinth's gaze softened slightly. "No need for apologies, Sol. Truth has a way of slipping through the cracks, doesn't it? At least it does for me." Her voice, smooth and unwavering, and held some semblance of understanding as she moved onto Khonsu’s frowning face and studied it. The word ‘whore’ still hung in the air, acknowledged by all parties but not dwelled upon. Absinth had long since, if she ever had, cast aside her feelings for her mother. The woman had been nothing motherly at all, just another whore. Another addict, another alcoholic willing to sell their children for their own benefit.

At Khonsu's words, Absinth's expression remained an elusive thing to read. The comparison of strength and vulnerability battled in their gaze, a dance that mirrored the plight of the Sidi and Saxes. They had grown with morality, with… more honor than she, most likely. They could not understand her choices. Though at least they did not spit venom at her like that tart Aurelia had. A faint, almost knowing smile played at the corners of Absinth's lips, a response that was neither approval nor reproach for their search for insight. "Strength is a double-edged blade. Whether you choose the more moral path or not. And at the end of the day… There is always someone who thinks you are a villain, or a hero.” She quirked a brow, huffing through her nose at the absurdity of opinion. “The labels and all — not something I fancy very much. Too complicated, and life is all about those little complexities." Absinth mused, her paw retracted from them, tracing patterns in the air to provide a visual. Eyes flashing to the conjoined space between them, insinuating they are one of those complexities with a smile.

Absinth giggled, her laughter laced with amusement and a roguish quality. She likes teasing them, but she wasn’t about to play master and servant with them, even temporarily. Dropping her coy smile, Absinth regards them carefully. "It requires finesse, an… artful hand." A pause, heavy with unspoken implications, lingered in the air as she kept her gaze fixed on the two men. Khonsu's invitation for guidance was met with a cryptic response, the only one she could give. "I know Yarrabelle as a brutal woman, lovely and fixated on vices. Her expectations are reliant upon the gratification she gets. As are most of the Saxe’s. Hedonists, all of them.  So. Adaptation is key, so is playing the games that keep you alive." Absinth's eyes, now fixed on Khonsu's, conveying a silent acknowledgment of the brothers' predicament. Her resonance with it. The fact that he needed her next words the most, to get him and Sol through it all. "To be strong within the confines of your rank is to know when to submit and when to assert, you can only learn that firsthand.” She peered up at them, trying to gauge whether or not they were absorbing her words. “Give them loyalty, but self-preserve, always. Aspire for more, but know missteps will have consequences – you must learn from those as well. Speaking from past experience – though not as a Sidi. A smart plaything, a changeable one, is one that lives.” With a subtle incline of her head, Absinth watches to see how her words would be taken. Call it a moment of.. graciousness, because that’s really what her advice was in that moment. She didn’t particularly care if they took it or not, and she wouldn’t dwell on it. She wanted to think they caught her on a good day, or that they amused her well enough to appease her impish side. But they would likely have to do all manner of things to state their insidious keepers, terrible things that would bring them closer to the monster she herself had become. But, in due time, wasn’t that the saying?

“Now then, about that physical thing. A spar, or something a bit more serious?” The woman questioned, drifting backwards as she allowed them space to decide. She adopted a defensive stance regardless, eyes locked onto each of their own in turn — awaiting the first move.

wormwood