[ Tulip knows the worth of an eye. She knows because she was one, once upon a time. Her laugh is a twinkling in her throat; it's the chitinous click of beetles' wings behind her teeth. ]
Sometimes, sometimes. An eye is all you need. Sometimes an eye is best.
[ His mouth splits into a grin, cigarette dangling from the corner, unlit. Kindred spirits or some shit, you know, except it's not a family reunion when cuz has come packing right to the jawbone, artillery locked behind the pink of her mouth. ]
[ It's not her fault really, it's in her nature. All of the sisters (a garden, no weeds) have bow-shaped mouths and bee-stung lips and needle teeth behind. Theirs is a race of one, one who is legion and one who is nigh, and all of Mary's sister-daughter-selves are born with a red, red maw.
She watches the grin and the smiles, distant and dreamy. ]
Oh no, not a queen. There's only one of those. I'm a princess, but I don't mind.
Cha, [ he says, head bobbing as he rocks back on his heels. ] but s'like, put 'em together and you're a queen, feel me?
[ Not any different than him, he supposes — pieces rather than a whole, like saplings and those little plants you get in the plastic cups of dirt, which is probably appropriate given the context. Not that she's dirt. Cuz is made of bonemeal and bloodier stuff than that and he doesn't have to have a dead man's blood and a witch's Sight to see it. Grinning, Oryx tucks the unlit cig behind his right ear and extends a hand, hastily wiping it on the leg of his jeans as he bends (crookedly) at the waist. ]
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Sometimes, sometimes. An eye is all you need. Sometimes an eye is best.
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Makes us fuckin' kings and queens, yeah?
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She watches the grin and the smiles, distant and dreamy. ]
Oh no, not a queen. There's only one of those. I'm a princess, but I don't mind.
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[ Not any different than him, he supposes — pieces rather than a whole, like saplings and those little plants you get in the plastic cups of dirt, which is probably appropriate given the context. Not that she's dirt. Cuz is made of bonemeal and bloodier stuff than that and he doesn't have to have a dead man's blood and a witch's Sight to see it. Grinning, Oryx tucks the unlit cig behind his right ear and extends a hand, hastily wiping it on the leg of his jeans as he bends (crookedly) at the waist. ]
Wanna dance, P? S'what we do with royalty.