[ She doesn't feel pressured to drink brandy, so Bonde doesn't have to worry about her decision to attempt to be broader mind (or train her palette to flavors she considers exotic). The Empire is quite an egalitarian society for its era, too. Would a woman be captain of guards in the borders? Perhaps because of the lack of state religion that usually condemns the female gender as sinful or subordinate and the matriarch reign of Augusta. The expectations placed on Shahrazad are no different from those of her male peers: noblesse oblige isn't an optional bragging item among them.
The Countess doesn't view herself as superior; her title does not make her better than the common folk. But she understands she was born with privileges she needs to compensate with her duty and conduct to balance the scales. If that is a trap, it's also one of her own choosing.
She feels relieved when the hand is withdrawn. It's not only about the injury... She's usually a very tactile person, but her present skittishness is due to her self-consciousness. That horrible man asked to act as an assassin in exchange for her family's safety, and her weapons are those dainty fingertips she keeps under the cloak. Touching someone as her stomach twists feels like it would make her lose her bravado. Her hands clasp together unconsciously again as she braves another smile, one that the man can't see obscure by the hood.]
Oh my, I didn't mean to sound impressive. I was only expressing my thoughts.
[ She chirps merrily, hearing that her face would be less recognizable doesn't help to soothe her concerns about this. The right people will recognize her. But she can count on the Empress' paranoia to keep the weapons of her land a secret. That man had intel to know, and she wonders about her uncle's descent to madness. It was too abrupt. As if someone poisoned him to create instability in the Empire.
I am really going to do this? She has the aghast realization that she might have nowhere to run. She can't either with the hostages she must rescue. Bonde's explanation sounds so distant for a moment, but she does try her best to focus on the friendly gentleman across the table. If he worries about her name-- ]
Mr. Bonde, if this will be troublesome. Why don't you choose a name to address me?
[ A moniker would be wondrous. She's never had a pet name before. Her elation is fleeting; it cools down when he requests a private meeting. She eyeballs him in silence. The first thought that crosses her mind is that her blackmailer sent Bonde to watch her and make reports to--
No, he's too polite. He probably also doesn't want to be tracked by risking seeing them with her. Any men dispatched would be watching from afar. Maybe Bonde works in trade and hopes to have a contact in the Empire. ]
Of course. It cannot take too long, but I don't mind.
[ She affirms, reaching the glass to take another sip. ]
no subject
The Countess doesn't view herself as superior; her title does not make her better than the common folk. But she understands she was born with privileges she needs to compensate with her duty and conduct to balance the scales. If that is a trap, it's also one of her own choosing.
She feels relieved when the hand is withdrawn. It's not only about the injury... She's usually a very tactile person, but her present skittishness is due to her self-consciousness. That horrible man asked to act as an assassin in exchange for her family's safety, and her weapons are those dainty fingertips she keeps under the cloak. Touching someone as her stomach twists feels like it would make her lose her bravado. Her hands clasp together unconsciously again as she braves another smile, one that the man can't see obscure by the hood.]
Oh my, I didn't mean to sound impressive. I was only expressing my thoughts.
[ She chirps merrily, hearing that her face would be less recognizable doesn't help to soothe her concerns about this. The right people will recognize her. But she can count on the Empress' paranoia to keep the weapons of her land a secret. That man had intel to know, and she wonders about her uncle's descent to madness. It was too abrupt. As if someone poisoned him to create instability in the Empire.
I am really going to do this? She has the aghast realization that she might have nowhere to run. She can't either with the hostages she must rescue. Bonde's explanation sounds so distant for a moment, but she does try her best to focus on the friendly gentleman across the table. If he worries about her name-- ]
Mr. Bonde, if this will be troublesome. Why don't you choose a name to address me?
[ A moniker would be wondrous. She's never had a pet name before. Her elation is fleeting; it cools down when he requests a private meeting. She eyeballs him in silence. The first thought that crosses her mind is that her blackmailer sent Bonde to watch her and make reports to--
No, he's too polite. He probably also doesn't want to be tracked by risking seeing them with her. Any men dispatched would be watching from afar. Maybe Bonde works in trade and hopes to have a contact in the Empire. ]
Of course. It cannot take too long, but I don't mind.
[ She affirms, reaching the glass to take another sip. ]