A shadow of a smirk manifested on her face, delighted by Rhiannon’s fierce pride. “I believe you,” she simply stated, not intending to pursue the topic further by answering the silver she-cat’s rhetorical questions. But as she fondled the thought in her mind, it dawned on her that she wasn’t as independent and detached as her companion here. Rhiannon didn’t know that Elizabeth was newly bought: under the ownership of Bermondsey and Regulus now, and they were the sole proprietors of her skills. But there was always a price to be paid for a better life. Rhiannon surely knew that intimately enough.

Elizabeth shifted, laid her head on the soft grass and stared up at the black sky, her smirk fading until it was ghostly, then altogether she regained her chilliness. “What would you do with eternal life, anyway?” She piped up after moments of pensive thoughts.

[ sorry if I’m breaking the continuity here, I forget when this is set so I’m just assuming lizzie’s an ass succ here lmao ]

Elizabeth angled her head as she laid on her back, to look full-faced at her silver companion. She thought she glimpsed some vulnerability in her expression for a moment? Or perhaps she’d imagined it. “Hmmmm, so you’re the adventurous type?” She ventured with a sultry look searing in her eyes. Elizabeth sought knowledge as well, to an extent. She felt a cat was only meant to know certain things. She rolled onto her stomach and stretched out, her tail curling behind her. “I know what I’d do for power, but I have my limits,” she meowed breezily. “If you got eternal life, where would you go?” She bit back questioning whether she’d go back to the loch for revenge – she wasn’t in the mood to steer the conversation in that direction.

“You’re right, some league cats don’t no limits,” she meowed crossly, an air of contempt now rising in her regal gaze. “It’s no secret I think half the cats here are brutes. Fine company such as yours isn’t on every street corner.” She simpered. “We might not have qualms about washing our paws with the blood of our enemies, but gods you have to have some class while you’re going about it.” She meant every word, too. Elizabeth wasn’t evil, and she certainly wasn’t a maniac – she was just practical. She almost remarked that she’d like to read more than her resume, but settled for a suggestive smirk that said more than words ever could.

A sultry glint flashed in Elizabeth’s eye, as she placed her head on an outstretched leg to regard Rhiannon with a look searing with sauciness. “What can I say, I like trouble,” she cooed sarcastically. “Or maybe… I just enjoy being rescued.” The thought of her being a damsel in distress made her laugh aloud. Elizabeth wasn’t the type of cat to be restrained by labels either – it took all the fun out of the carnal pleasures whatever anonymous god had bestowed on them.

“You seem like a cat that likes… the right kind of trouble, too.”

“Do you?” came the coy challenge, the sly smile on her face deepening. “You’re not too wound up to have a little fun are you?” Her sapphire eyes danced with interest as she regarded Rhiannon. It was said that the uptight ones were often the wildest. “We’ll have to find out.”

She finally climbed to her paws in one fluid motion, her face cooling into something more eloquent. “I’m the classy lady, remember? Show me what adventures you have in the North.”

The night seemed to stretch on and on forever, like the great elder tree had truly reached out and grabbed the sky, holding the stars in their place for eternity. But finally, the dawn broke through in one shear shaft of light, driving out the reticent darkness. Elizabeth awoke to birdsong, groggy and drained to the bone. As she stumbled to her paws, a beam of sunshine caught in her blue eyes – blinding her – and it took her some time to remember where she was, what she’d been up to. But then she looked over her shoulder and saw another silverly coat laying there. Hah. That’s right. The stranger’s coat looked different in the light.

By the time Rhiannon woke up, all that was left of Elizabeth was a single rose, placed perfectly next to her; like the assassin had metamorphed. The thorns were still intact, sharp to the touch, but the flower was nonetheless still ravishing in the morning light.

Let’s do a time skip ;3

“Do you want me to?” Elizabeth’s response was a challenge, though amusement animated her own long whiskers like the strings of a harp. She was used to being confronted by her lovers – some cats really didn’t know how to let go, and more often than not got the wrong idea about her intentions. They’d find her, hot and bothered – and not in the fun way – asking a million questions. It really sucked all the fun out of the relationship, and Liz would be forced to end the affair right then and there.

But Rhiannon didn’t seem like the clingy type; surely she wasn’t upset that Elizabeth hadn’t stuck around the morning after to grab breakfast? So, what had her in a twit on this crisp morning? Was her back still sore from the debauchery of that night? The idea tickled the most crude of the assassin’s sensibilities – she despised herself for laughing at the thought.

“I take it you didn’t appreciate my gift?” A frown played at her lips – a false one, but still impressively wistful in its mocking. “It’s my fault – the flower was adorned with thorn a’ plenty. I should have left a warning sign – handle with care.” Her blue eyes flashed suggestively.

She’d found the rose in a pool of morning light, just as she’d been making her way out the door. The thing had looked so staged, she’d thought it planted there by the hands of some trickster. Perhaps Rhiannon’s tree-God had sprouted it. She'd thought Rhiannon would find the dry humor in such a soppy gesture – perhaps she hadn’t. Still, she liked the thought of Puss-in-Boots being her next role to play. “It’s the thought that counts, no?”