Under the Maltese Skies

[Omi]

Subsiding into a silence of her own, Charlotte barely seemed to take in her expensive, ornate surroundings. The technological might and architectural beauty of the house itself was lost on her single-minded focus, and no amount of Malta's beauty seemed to be able to shake it. Shucking her coat off, she found Enma already there to take it from her -- something to which she acquiesced with only a slight bit of hesitation.

Moving ahead of her counterpart, she remained standing while Enma moved to seat herself behind her, keeping her eyes on the frozen lake beyond the window. As the Outcast began to speak, though, Charlotte's countenance grew ever more strained-looking, a new look of irritation flaring on her features. Before she could help herself, she once again rounded on the Maltese noble, sputtering her way through Loyola's diatribe as if the possibility of being denied had never even crossed her mind.

"I didn't ask to come here!" she hissed, sweeping one arm around to indicate her immediate surroundings. "Being "useful" was never my concern -- is it ever a concern for a prisoner of war? All the opportunity you've afforded me involves languishing here in perpetuity, living out my days in a gilded enclosure while you fight an unseen battle and my world revolves on without me."

She shook her head vehemently to accentuate her point, sounding more bitter than ever.

"It's rich of you to offer me anything on the sole condition I remain on this poisoned rock, when I'd happily give you the same just to leave it behind. I don't want to be a part of your society -- slavers playing at being nobles, few of whom would even accept an off-worlder in any position of power, if I imagine it correctly. I have a home world already -- Orléans -- and a sister to look out for. Those are my priorities -- a tranquil world that never deserved the war my uncle foisted upon it, and the one true element of my family I have left."

The raven-haired woman pinched the bridge of her nose in a visible display of frustration, gathering herself for just a second before forging onwards.

"You know what I want, then, but I'm still clueless as to what exactly you want with me. I can't negotiate with someone who won't open clear dialogue. Tell me what it is you want in exchange for my freedom to leave Malta and see my sister again, face to face -- or leave me be. Don't ask me to convince you when, as near as I see it, you have this nation and all its vast resources in the palm of your hand already."

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