milliways_bar | (no subject)

He blinks.

"What?"

She giggles.

"Nothing. Would you like a drink?"

He looks rather confused.

"Um. What are you?"

She giggles again.

"I'm just me. Here, have some wine."

And there's a bottle of wine there. Maybe it's always been there. She pours two glasses and offers one to Alex, taking a sip from her own glass.

He still looks rather confused.

"Um. Thanks."

It's good wine. An old Tortallan vintage, from his own fief of Tirragen.

"So."

She smiles brightly.

"I like to play games. Do you like to play games, Alex?"

"Depends on what sort of games, really."

She toys with her wine, running her finger around the rim of the glass.

"All sorts of games. Games that make you happysadhurtcrylovedie. Games that bleed. Games of the crack of bone and the burn of ice and the thrill of the hunt."

A bright smile.

"Have you ever been hunted, Alex?"

He blinks.

"...no."

More wine is needed to deal with this very strange woman. He downs the rest of his glass.

Discordia smiles and pours him another glass.

"It's okay. Not everyone gets hunted right away."

"I... think I'd rather not get hunted at all, really."

She laughs and pats his hand.

"Silly boy. Everyone gets hunted eventually."

"...okay. Why?"

"Because it's the way of things, silly boy. Silly, beautiful boy."

Alex freezes.

It's a coincidence. It has to be a coincidence.

He drinks his wine, trying desperately to think of a change of subject.

She laughs, a sweet, bubbly sound.

"There's no such thing as coincidence, silly boy. Silly, beautiful boy."

She smiles gently and reaches over to run a hand down the side of her face. Her hand is ice-cold.

"You'd make such lovely prey."

He flinches away from her, putting down the wineglass with enough force to crack the base.

"What the hells are you?"

"You've met a kinsman of mine."

"I haven't--"

And then he remembers the other person in black and white, and he goes pale.

"What do you want?"

Discordia giggles.

"I want to play a game. I told you I like games."

He licks his lips nervously.

"What sort of game?"

"I told you, beautiful boy. Games that make you happysadhurtcrylovedie. Games that bleed. Games of the crack of bone and the burn of ice and the thrill of the hunt."

She tilts her head, studying him.

"I can see why my kinsman liked you. You're pretty. It will be fun to play with you."

He flinches. And blinks rapidly, shaking his head, because his vision is doing something weird.

"I don't feel like playing."

"Silly boy. Silly, beautiful boy. You say that as though you have a choice in the matter."

She smiles.

"You're shaking, Alex."

He struggles to his feet, barely gracing himself with the back of the booth. His limbs are frighteningly weak, and his vision is swimming.

"What the fuck did you do to me?"