"Entrez," came the reply through the door as Widowmaker had left it unlocked.
Anya would find Widowmaker's room furnished lavishly as her tastes were expensive and she'd asked for some alterations to her room. The four poster bed had deep wine color drapery about it, the bookcase contained several books and a photograph in a gold frame on one of the shelves. On the far side of the room were a pair of stain glassed doors depicting a beautiful wintry scene that lead out to a balcony, and a plush couch to sit upon with a low table before it sat at an adjacent side. Upon the table was a nondescript wooden box several feet long but only a single foot wide, a soft pelt of white rabbit fur laying across half of it.
Though the oddest thing in the room might be Widowmaker at her espresso machine, steaming milk as she prepared cappuccino. "Have a seat. This is almost done," she said, dressed casually in loose pants and a soft sweater. If not for the blue skin and the unnatural color of her eyes, she almost would seem like a normal person.
Anya glanced about with quiet interest, though she didn't feel comfortable enough to wander about as she might like; it felt rude to do so. At the invitation, she did sit down in the desk chair and fold her hands lightly in her lap, tilting her head at Widow and taking in her very casual ensemble. "Your room is lovely," she remarked. "Your patron must like you more than mine likes me."
"I earn my luxuries, Anya. It is less a matter of the Dark One liking me more than yours you," Widowmaker replied as she poured the steamed milk into the cups just the right way so the foam reached the rim. She added a dash of cinnamon to the top of the foam. "I have been here longer, have little restraint when it comes to sex, nor much of a preference when it comes to gender. Also regular partners help."
Picking up both cups, Widowmaker took them over to the couch and sat down. Once the cappuccinos were placed on the table before the box, she patted the seat next to her. "I made us cappuccino. It's a coffee drink with frothed milk from Italy. I hope you like it," she said before taking a sip of her own. "It's been wonderful having the ability to make it here."
"Maybe it would be more correct to say that you like you patron more than I like mine, because I simply will not ask mine for anything," Anya mused, accepting the cup even though coffee had never been a favorite of hers. Truth be known, the strong tea that Gleb tended to brew wasn't a favorite of hers, either; her own version of a drink was little more than tea-tinged hot water with many squeezes of lemon.
The cappuccino was almost more milk than coffee, however, and not quite as overwhelmingly strong, so Anya found she enjoyed it quite a lot. "It's very nice," she replied after the first sip, licking at the foam on her lip, cradling the cup in her hands for warmth. "Thank you."
"Ah, that would be quite a difference; I have an arrangement with my patron. It has little to do with like or dislike." It didn't surprise her that Anya was being stubborn on this front as well. She recalled how long the woman had spent trying to live in the forest out of spite before her better senses kicked in.
Widowmaker took a sip of her cappuccino with a little hum. "I've called you hear to talk about your training. I am no longer allowing you to use Widow's Kiss." She waved off any potential response, not sure if Anya would choose to protest or assume she'd done something to upset the assassin. "It's too big for you. You need something tailored to your frame."
"I don't like the way he talks to me." Anya rolled a shoulder; she had ample experience with predators. Her patron was just one more in a long line.
Anya blinked, afraid that Widowmaker was about to discontinue their training sessions altogether, which...would have been upsetting, when she thought she was just starting to make some progress. "Oh," she replied after a moment, when Widow explained what she meant. "All right. That makes sense." Though what she would use instead was a mystery; she wondered if Percival would be willing to craft something for her.
To answer that question, Widowmaker pulled the rabbit fur off the long box on the table and slid it toward Anya. Fingers unlatched it and then she gestured for her protege to open it. Within the wooden box was a beautiful lever-action rifle with a box of ammunition.
"I took it upon myself to procure this. It is only accurate up to a thousand meters, better suited to long mid-range than actual long-range and lacks the scope so you'll have to really work on using your sights. It'll have more recoil than Widow's Kiss even though it shoots a lesser caliber, but that's only because it's not nearly as technologically advanced. But this, Anya, is your rifle. Use it well."
Stunned silent, Anya set her coffee cup down and walked over to the open box, reaching out hesitantly to touch the stock. "You procured this...for me?" Her throat suddenly tight, Anya took a deep, careful breath and tried not to get overly emotional. Widow, she knew, wouldn't care for it. "No one's ever really given me a gift before."
"You needed your own gun," Widowmaker replied as way of explanation. "It will be easier to teach you to hunt if we both are properly armed." She paused briefly, tilting her head with a look of mild confusion, like she was having difficulty connecting with the moment.
Surprised by the hug, Widowmaker went completely still so far as to cease breathing until Anya let go. Blinking, she stared for a moment before clearing her throat, unsure how to handle the sudden show of affection. "That... pleases me. Once you've gone through that box of ammunition, you will be responsible for requesting your own. I know you do not like asking things of your patron, but a rifle is no good without bullets."
She took a sip of her cappuccino. "I'll show you how it works after we've finished our drinks."
"Thank you for this," Anya added with a soft, happy laugh, reluctantly picking up her coffee and taking a sip far too big for how hot it was. She wasn't trying to rush, she was just excited. Like a child on Christmas morning.
That got a bit of a chuckle from Widowmaker. "Careful or you will burn yourself." She liked seeing Anya so excited... mostly because it was over a gun, but there was some satisfaction to be found otherwise.
"We'll go hunting next week after you've gotten used to the rifle. See if we can find a rabbit or two, perhaps some blight pixies." Another sip of her drink then something occurred to her. "Oh, before I forget to tell you, starting the new year you can return to wearing your skirts when we train."
The announcement only made Anya's excitement grow--less because she was eager to get back into her skirts (though she was--trousers, she had decided, were not really for her) but because it meant she was improving enough that it was allowed.
"I was wondering...is there a sweet from home that you miss?" she asked, pausing to take a more careful sip of her cappuccino. "I've been practicing my pâtisserie skills at the bakery. I could make something for you. As a way to thank you."
"Plenty, but I warn you I am a proper French woman when it comes to croissants. Which is to say I am incredibly snobbish about them. No one here makes them properly," Widowmaker replied. "I am fond of chocolate, though you have no need to thank me. I... enjoy training you." There was a slight hint of uncertainty, of hesitation, at the end and she quickly tried to cover it up with a sip of her beverage.
"I know that I don't have to. But I'd like to." Less concerned with hiding her emotions, Anya smiled a little over the rim of her cup. "And if you are particular, then you may be the best person to sample and critique what I make. Do you like pain au chocolat? There is a recipe in one of the cookbooks I found in the library I would like to try."
Widowmaker gave a roll of her eyes, not pleased with the idea of being a taste-tester for potentially offensive pastries, but then she sighed. If it made the girl happy... "If you wish to try making them I will try to eat them. You will get an honest evaluation, that is for sure."
"I'll practice them thoroughly on my own first, I promise," Anya assured her, not deterred at all by her lack of enthusiasm. "When I think I have produced something good, only then will I share my results. But I've never lived in Paris, so you would be able to tell me what I can tweak."
She paused for a moment, taking a slower, more thoughtful sip from her coffee cup. "I've always wanted to go there. To Paris. I've always felt like...like something was waiting for me."
"Many people feel there is something waiting for them in Paris. Most of them think it's a handsome man or a woman," Widowmaker replied with a chuckle. "I doubt that is the case for you. Have you recalled anything further about who you are?"
Much as it would be nice to meet a handsome man or woman in Paris, that wasn't what Anya believed she was looking for. For one thing, Russia had plenty of handsome men and women already, no need to illegally flee the country for that.
"Not really." She paused and took a thoughtful sip from her cup. "Well, there was one thing...when I was at the market, I found a bottle of orange blossom perfume. I...remember someone hugging me who smelled just like it."
"Scent has been proven to connect to memory. We associate specific smells with important things." Widowmaker had personal experience with it, from when she started recovering bits of herself. Perhaps this was one of the real reasons the assassin had taken Anya under her wing as she had.
"I did--well. I tried," Anya amended with a slight frown. "The shopkeeper looked at me strangely and said it was not of their wares, and they wouldn't take any money for it. It was very odd. So I put it in my pocket and brought it back to the castle with me."
"I wonder where it came from. Coincidence is not something I think truly exists here. Perhaps your patron is involved and simply used an alternate means to get it to you." Widowmaker could picture Anya literally throwing the perfume back in his face had he handed it directly to her. Or launching it across the room if it appeared on her bedside table with a note. "Regardless, perhaps it was a scent favored by your mother. Or governess."
Predictably, Anya didn't like that thought, that her patron was finding ways to get to her in spite of her resolve to ask him for nothing. "To what end?" she wondered. "To toy with me? Or to try and help me remember?" She didn't trust it was out of the goodness of his heart; she didn't think any of their hosts had hearts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
Anya would find Widowmaker's room furnished lavishly as her tastes were expensive and she'd asked for some alterations to her room. The four poster bed had deep wine color drapery about it, the bookcase contained several books and a photograph in a gold frame on one of the shelves. On the far side of the room were a pair of stain glassed doors depicting a beautiful wintry scene that lead out to a balcony, and a plush couch to sit upon with a low table before it sat at an adjacent side. Upon the table was a nondescript wooden box several feet long but only a single foot wide, a soft pelt of white rabbit fur laying across half of it.
Though the oddest thing in the room might be Widowmaker at her espresso machine, steaming milk as she prepared cappuccino. "Have a seat. This is almost done," she said, dressed casually in loose pants and a soft sweater. If not for the blue skin and the unnatural color of her eyes, she almost would seem like a normal person.
no subject
no subject
Picking up both cups, Widowmaker took them over to the couch and sat down. Once the cappuccinos were placed on the table before the box, she patted the seat next to her. "I made us cappuccino. It's a coffee drink with frothed milk from Italy. I hope you like it," she said before taking a sip of her own. "It's been wonderful having the ability to make it here."
no subject
The cappuccino was almost more milk than coffee, however, and not quite as overwhelmingly strong, so Anya found she enjoyed it quite a lot. "It's very nice," she replied after the first sip, licking at the foam on her lip, cradling the cup in her hands for warmth. "Thank you."
no subject
Widowmaker took a sip of her cappuccino with a little hum. "I've called you hear to talk about your training. I am no longer allowing you to use Widow's Kiss." She waved off any potential response, not sure if Anya would choose to protest or assume she'd done something to upset the assassin. "It's too big for you. You need something tailored to your frame."
no subject
Anya blinked, afraid that Widowmaker was about to discontinue their training sessions altogether, which...would have been upsetting, when she thought she was just starting to make some progress. "Oh," she replied after a moment, when Widow explained what she meant. "All right. That makes sense." Though what she would use instead was a mystery; she wondered if Percival would be willing to craft something for her.
no subject
"I took it upon myself to procure this. It is only accurate up to a thousand meters, better suited to long mid-range than actual long-range and lacks the scope so you'll have to really work on using your sights. It'll have more recoil than Widow's Kiss even though it shoots a lesser caliber, but that's only because it's not nearly as technologically advanced. But this, Anya, is your rifle. Use it well."
no subject
no subject
"...do you like it?"
no subject
"It's beautiful," she replied, reaching out to touch the polished wood and metal again. "I love it."
no subject
She took a sip of her cappuccino. "I'll show you how it works after we've finished our drinks."
no subject
no subject
"We'll go hunting next week after you've gotten used to the rifle. See if we can find a rabbit or two, perhaps some blight pixies." Another sip of her drink then something occurred to her. "Oh, before I forget to tell you, starting the new year you can return to wearing your skirts when we train."
no subject
"I was wondering...is there a sweet from home that you miss?" she asked, pausing to take a more careful sip of her cappuccino. "I've been practicing my pâtisserie skills at the bakery. I could make something for you. As a way to thank you."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
She paused for a moment, taking a slower, more thoughtful sip from her coffee cup. "I've always wanted to go there. To Paris. I've always felt like...like something was waiting for me."
no subject
no subject
"Not really." She paused and took a thoughtful sip from her cup. "Well, there was one thing...when I was at the market, I found a bottle of orange blossom perfume. I...remember someone hugging me who smelled just like it."
no subject
"Did you purchase the perfume?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
/end