Under the Maltese Skies

[Omi]

Midway through Enma's explanatory diatribe, Charlotte raised a hand to wave her off.

"I was simply asking," she said. "I'll fly a Sirian craft as soon as I will a Gallic one; I just thought one might have survived these couple of years in storage. Don't trouble yourself overmuch on my account."

Turning away slightly from Enma, her gaze flickered towards the doorway. Perhaps a short walk through the mansion during her communiqué would do her good.

"I'll go. Don't let me disturb you." Charlotte fancied she could see the very beginnings of doubt beginning to cloud the Maltese woman's eyes, and she had no intention of allowing that doubt to fester -- at least not until it was too late for any arrangements to be backed out of. Besides, the second the call was outbound to her sister, at least someone would know for certain that she was still alive. That, in itself, would count for something, even if things took a vicious and unexpected turn.

The princess wasted no time beyond that; she moved towards the doorway without another word, stepping through into the hallway and considering the tiny communicator still held in her hand. What would she say? How would she even begin? What did one even say after over two years of incarceration -- maybe even presumed death?

It took her a few seconds more to compose herself enough to begin recording her message. The subspace link wasn't strong enough to initiate a live call, but at least this way Claire would eventually be able to hear her out. She took a shaky breath, then began to speak.

"Dearest sister...

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