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[vecna]

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[velluminous]

You are meant to use words when you reply. [ quoth woman who sent only a spider emoji ] Can we meet?

[vecna]

[Wow.]

You didn't use words, did you?

Of course. Where?

[Does this mean she's had time to process their last conversation? At least Henry is mentally on more even ground today compared to then.]

[velluminous]

[ "somewhere public." doesn't say this. ]

Graveyard?

[ she has not slept in more than harried snatches since she woke in Arthur's arms, since the morning she realized Endorsi was gone. just over 24 hours. ]

[vecna]

[He would have been surprised if she preferred privacy, all things considered.]

All right. Be there soon.

[Off to the graveyard, then. When he arrives, he casts about looking for her.]

[velluminous]

[ she isn't there yet. and that's because, behind the hulking shape of the mausoleum, she's standing with her back to the cold stone, just working up the confidence to stroll up to Henry Creel, confessed murderer, and pretend like the last two days haven't happened.

after a moment, she appears... but it's a long moment. ]

Mister Creel. Good morning.

[vecna]

[He's back to what counts as normal for him; at least insofar as he presents himself. That straight-backed stance, his congenial smile. The last few days have not been ideal, but it won't stop his attempts at tamping it all down, like he does with all of his ugly, unflattering emotions.

Business as usual, then.]

Good morning, Sprezzatura.

[He takes in her demeanor, though, with a sweep of his eyes. He'll let her lead with the reason why she wanted to meet, presumably.]

[velluminous]

[ she looks like she hasn't slept. that manic, obsessive glint that always appears in her eye when a horrible trial commences has faded back away again; her makeup looks like it's the same makeup she put on a day or two ago, but, hey, it's still holding up. and she's completely buttoned up—high collar, long cuffs, gloves, tall boots.

it's clear by looking at her that "something's happened", but if you didn't already know, you would never guess what.

now she simply has to proceed. business as usual. ]

So. Here we are.

[ #nailed it ]

[vecna]

[And here he was going to say she looked better than compared to their last meeting—even if that is a low bar to clear, even if it is true—but Henry decides against it. He sees how worn she looks, instead. Like sleep’s escaped her.

Did something happen? Or is she still pulling herself back together after the elevator game? Henry can’t know, but he wonders if it has anything to do with why she’s called him out here today.]

Here we are.

[Brow lifting. All right. Obviously, he’ll have to take the lead.]

I’m glad you’re still willing to meet with me, at least. What’s this about?

[velluminous]

Can't woman desire to spend time with her friend?

[ her gaze slants aside when she asks this; it's clear that she does not feel equipped for the conversation she asked for—or, at least, she isn't certain how to begin it. ]

...I did not like how we left things, before.

[vecna]

["Friend." He nearly didn't expect that word out of her so easily—it never came easily before—and it speaks volumes that she utilizes it in the wake of their last conversation. He had asked if things changed between them then. He wonders that’s the answer.]

We weren’t ourselves. Not after that game.

[Or, at least, Henry had let the mask slip. It’s glued on… better, today.]

...You still look tired from it.

[velluminous]

[ no, she thinks. he was exactly himself. ]

There was bloodbath and Basilisk's ranks have thinned. Of course I am tired. I am always, always tired.

[vecna]

[The bloodbath, he knew about. Basilisk's ranks, though.]

You've lost someone on your team?

[velluminous]

[ angles her gaze away, arms crossed. shrugs.

she shouldn't have said that. ]

I am just... tired.

[vecna]

[Whether or not she should have, she's said it, and it's revealing. Says something for why she's so tired.]

Talk to me, Sprezzatura. That's why you called me out here, wasn't it?

[velluminous]

[ yes. shut up.

tail swishing behind her, she blinks a few times, almost bleary. unsurprising.

then her lips draw into a frown. ]

I—I have something. For you.

[vecna]

[Henry looks as surprised as he feels. She has something for him?]

...You do?

[velluminous]

Not if you are going to make shocked face like, "how could she ever be so generous"!

[vecna]

[He scoffs, bemused.]

Maybe you'll recall our last conversation, Sprezzatura. I wasn't even sure you wanted to talk to me again. But now you're requesting to meet with me, calling me "friend", and saying you have something for me.

I'm not complaining. But I am surprised.

[velluminous]

And I am not idiot! I do not have five-minute memory! I remember. I remember you being cataclysmic in your anger, and being flooded with that feeling that from one touch, and you telling me we are so, so alike. Hm? And I did not abandon you then...

[ maybe she should have.

but they're too alike. ]

[vecna]

[But they're too alike.]

And you're not going to abandon me now.

[Despite everything. How strange, this prison continuing to prove him so very wrong about a lot of things, but he cannot bring himself to feel so resentful about it today.]

You did say you wouldn't leave me to my fate if we ever returned home. Maybe I just shouldn't have doubted you.

[velluminous]

No one should ever doubt me. I am incredibly intelligent woman.

[ with the wisdom of a banana. ]

[vecna]

[(citation needed)]

I won't make that mistake again.

[velluminous]

[ girl we already know she's stupid

but her expression falls from long-suffering to just... somber. vaguely uncertain. one hand has slipped into the inner pocket of her coat, and she fiddles with something inside, unseen. the silk fabric soft beneath her paper-worn fingertips, the fine threads of embroidery forming a little bump at one corner... ]

Hold out your hand.

[vecna]

[She's trying her best, okay.

His eyes follow her movement, then trail back up to her expression. This must still be a difficult thing to do, he thinks. If what she's about to give him is a gift, then it is the equivalent of an olive branch, just a slightly awkward one.

Still... he holds out his hand. He's curious.]

[velluminous]

[ all at once, as though she's had to manually override her own inertia, she brings her own hand out of her pocket and presses a folded handkerchief into his upturned palm. on it, there is an embroidered black widow spider—her abdomen carefully built up and up so its curve rises above the fabric, her delicate legs poised. she has attempted to mimic the look of a web with fine silver threads that flicker in the light.

the fabric is red.

stiffly, ] I am realizing some things recently.