The Symenestra's question simply made her shrug in response. She didn't know why the woman had bothered asking but judging by the shake of her head she didn't like, or agree with what she had done. She had to be a Dek sympathiser, it was the only conclusion that Azira could come up with, strange as it was to her. It did explain the question though. She'd asked it out of concern for the man. Outsiders were strange.
The young woman scowled at the woman's tone. She'd gone from overly nice to I-can't-give-a-damn very quickly. She didn't like that and wondered if her change in attitude had anything to do with Azira hitting the messenger, or if it was because of her refusal to make Drusilla's life easier. Regardless of the reason behind it, it irked the huntress. The teen set her jaw, watching as the spider checked the measurements that she had on file for her and set about finding what Azira assumed was a dummy that she could use for her work. She blanked her during the process, only acknowledging her when the started talking nonsense.
Drusilla's demeanour changed to one of surprise and perhaps even shock. She resumed her business-like one quickly enough though, dismissing her without a thought as if her presence was of no use, or importance to her. The Avora gaped at her for a moment, too shocked to find the right words to say for a few ticks before a tirade found its way to her lips. [color=white}"Oh, may I? How kind of you. Who died and made you Endal, huh? Thinking you have the right to dismiss me when you feel like it. Maybe you should remember who you're talking to, or did you not want those archery lessons?"[/color] Her tone shifted from one of sarcasm to a snap.
Her feet brought her within close proximity to the Symenestra, perhaps a little too close for the two of them but the huntress hardly noticed, the wound to her pride too much for her to be capable of rational thought. Her fingers twitched, itching to smack the woman across the face but for some reason she just couldn't do it and she had no idea why. A hurt expression showed in her eyes for a moment before switching to confusion at her inability to hit the woman. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply before letting out a quiet sigh, her expression becoming as close to neutrality as it was going to get as she opened her eyes. She took a step back, suddenly all too aware of their closeness.
"It doesn't matter how busy I am. I can't give you free rein to do whatever you like. I might actually have to wear what you make," the huntress explained. She turned away from the woman under the premise of regarding the bolts of fabric. Truthfully, she just couldn't bring herself to look at the seamstress, to catch her eye. It left her thoughtful, wondering why she'd reacted the way that she had. Perhaps it had been something her subconscious had managed to leak into her consciousness, forgetting, or not bothering, to attach an explanation in the process. She didn't know.
The Sym was still strange to her, becoming stranger in her eyes during the course of this meeting. Maybe it was the inability to predict her reaction, the fear of the unknown that had given her pause before she could act out in violence. It's just winter getting to me, she told herself. None of the explanations seemed to quite fit in her mind. Perhaps it would come to her.
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