Re: Axel: Rae & Fen
"History has a habit of being bloody," Rae observed. History, real history was written by conquerors and victors. It was dirty, scrounging, determined and visceral and the quiet life Fen longed for - that was purgatory. She'd had enough of quiet, in Vale. Which wasn't to say Rae welcomed bloody; she had expensive taste in clothing these days and blood had a habit of spattering.
The veil dropped. Which arguably had been suspended by a very thin string, even over the smell of melted butter, popped corn and the rush-rush-rush of wheels over floor. He spoke rather a lot for a man who never said much of anything, but they were speaking in riddles and saying nothing that could be heard. She knew who he was, of course. She knew what he was.
"Interest is always subjective, darling. It piques, it changes. It's like the weather." Rae liked knowing the world and why it pitched and canted in the directions it did. It helped that ordinarily she had flickers - glimpses - of it as it was and why it was. She raised one groomed eyebrow, tipped her chin. She was smiling; it looked cusp-of-laughter.
"Is that a question you'd like the answer to, or a polite one?" She hadn't answered. That much they both knew.