Under the Maltese Skies

[Omi]

Charlotte's mouth opened as if to reply, but the communicator beeping in her hand cut all thoughts of a verbal response off. She nearly dropped it in her haste to answer the call, allowing the audio itself to play through the device's tiny speaker. The tension in her frame melted away in an instant from the very first syllable; that was Claire, she was sure of it -- the sister whose voice she hadn't heard in years. Part of her felt like crying, another part felt like jumping for joy, but it was in the nature of any well brought-up Gallic scion to maintain some manner of decorum. Instead, she only allowed herself a shaky smile as Claire's voice spoke on and on, occasionalyl muffled by klaxons and the noise of intense activity in the background.

The message was not long, and soon the communicator clicked off in her hand with a strident beep, leaving Charlotte alone once more. The indecisiveness from earlier had already started to fade, and it only took her a scant few seconds of thought to round on Loyola once more.

"The Hebrides," she muttered, looking through Loyola rather than directly at her. "Closer than I had anticipated. I -- or we -- must go there at once -- as soon as it is safe and prudent to leave. I need to rendezvous with Claire and the Belisama."

Her manner of speaking had iced up somewhat further, her tone more strained and urgent than ever before. She had briefly relaxed, forgetting about her own situation in light of Claire's own becoming clear, but now that she remembered herself the tense, uncertain energy was back. This woman still held the key to her immediate future in one hand, a fact she found infuriating and very, very dangerous in equal measure.

---