Once Rosebay sees the milky eyes, she drops the physical charade. It can be exhausting to carry that kind of illusion on and she is grateful that she can relax into her normal stance, not shielding her usual expression and training her face into something sweet and unassuming. Her features sharpen, her almond eyes scrutinizing her a little closer, but when she speaks again, it is with the same breathy innocence.
“Oh,” she exhales, as though she cares deeply about the mistake. It is a jarring contradiction, were anyone close enough to watch them together. Rosebay looks nearly bored, her nose wrinkling, her stance askew, but when she opens her mouth, it is with the voice of someone entirely genuine, the sincerity so practiced that she nearly surprises herself with the way it rolls off her tongue. “I promise you that it was no joke.”
How easily she has learned to lie in these first few years.
She studies her a little closer, wondering at the bitter bite to her tone. She doesn’t move closer nor step away from her. Instead she breathes easily, careful to not give away any hint of the truth of her.
“My name is Rosebay,” this is honest at least. “I’m terribly unobservant sometimes.”
She wonders if perhaps this girl is self-conscious or worried about being overlooked and so she attempts to put just a tiny bit of pressure on the idea—just to see how she reacts.
“And it is so strange. I’ve never seen you before. Do you live here?”
but in all chaos, there is calculation
@[Catryn]