So Many Bees

Novella giggled, at the question. It wasn't quite an amused laugh, but a laugh, nonetheless. I'm the most dangerous thing in these walls. A truth, for the moment. Until they got her demon under control, she was safer here than anywhere else, lest her father have to put her down. She didn't answer the question, though. She'd killed many leaders, murdered many. Too many to remember, they were faceless pawns in a game she played at the whim of the country.

But then, the woman was moving closer to her, and Ella watched with wide eyes. The guard in-between the two had stepped to block Ophelia, only to consider her place in this home. And the wards behavior.

So, while they let her settle next to Novella, it was only in exchange for those who were armed to settle in nearer. Novella listened, brown eyes fixed on her new companions face; ignoring the quiet shifting of their minders, hers had come nearer too.

How did you come to be here? She was curious; she hadn't attempted to find her way out of the cage. She didn't want too? An interesting concept for Novella, who was of two minds about her confinement. Part of her felt safe. Part of her felt suffocated.

And then, she beamed, brightly at confirmation that the other woman could read and write. Can you help me write a letter? Father doesn't let me write myself, she brought her hands up, shackles ignored as she tapped a particularly wounded section of her face, indicating that she'd done that to herself the last time she'd gotten hold of a writing utensil, not realizing there were other ways to take the gesture. But you could write what I tell you. She seemed enthused at the idea.

And then the other woman was touching her, and Ella stilled. Mmm, no. I didn't let Father's healers help me either. They had offered; but the pain was something to focus on, even as it faded and got better. The longer she went without new wounds, without new outbursts, the more progress she made. And as long as her wounds weren't life-threatening, they were left alone, treated without magic.

Her hands settled back against her chest, for even though she could sit up and face the woman, it was easier for her to maintain one position so nobody got too fidgety.

You were stitching something. Can I see?

@Ophelia Jolfy