Stormclouds Gather

[Jayce]

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"Partners..." The word felt almost foreign as it escaped her lips, more foreign than English, more foreign than that accursed, insect-like tongue the Kusarians were so fond of. Partners? The closest things to a partner Yolande ever possessed were the Bonaparte and Dantes family heads, and even then, she was more than content to stand by as the two families were eviscerated, eventually absorbing the bruised and battered remnants. She'd never truly thought of them as partners, even, simply competition that she kept a close eye on, and perhaps negotiated more leniently with. The remainder of her Famille, daughters, capos, and soldiers alike? She cared for them, certainly, as an employer cared for an employee, and she certainly cared for her daughters even more dearly, but partners? No, not quite.

This man, though, this thoroughly-unhinged being... Through the pain of withdrawal and split skin, her logical mind went to work, weighing the pros and cons of such an arrangement. She certainly stood to gain more than she'd lose. The Rogues could only gain a presence in Gallia with her help, and she could only gain a foothold in Liberty with the assistance of this cyborg. Oh, and of course, her life. That was certainly an important part of the negotiations. Letting out a hesitant breath, her eyes traced the Rogue's hand as it extended once more, this time lacking the vicious blade that previously threatened to end her. The contrast between the beast from mere moments ago, and the thoroughly reasonable man before her was jarring, to say the least. Even his first communications, their first meetings, failed to convey such a sense of normalcy. Yolande suppressed a tremble as she placed a delicate hand atop the one presented, allowing the Rogue to gently bring the matriarch to her feet once more. She was hardly the image of perfection any longer: hair matted with blood, dress torn and creased, a dried spatter of crimson that once dribbled from her neck, and yet, it seemed, the worst was over. There was always the chance that this was simply an extension of a torturous ruse, and yet, the appeal of opportunity was simply too great to pass up.

"Not once have I spoken these words to another soul, Josie." Though shaky, her voice began to regain its usual timbre as Yolande reassembled herself. Dusting herself for but a moment, she affixed the Rogue once more with a rock-hard gaze. "Amis et alliés, jusqu'à la dernière goutte de notre sang." A traditional agreement, a blessing, and a curse, all rolled into one simple phrase, only spoken between the closest of Corsicans. A binding of blood and bone, steel and soul. Turning to take up the small, unassuming wooden box she'd arrived with, Yolande unsealed the lid with a quiet hiss of frigid air. As she opened the cover just so, the contents remained hidden from her newfound compatriot, until it finally snapped open on spring-loaded hinges.

"A measure of trust." Turning the box in her hands, she finally allowed the Pack Leader to inspect the contents. Contrary to expectations, it held neither a knife, nor a bomb, nor any method of assassination so bold and brash. Merely, cradled within slowly-frosting velvet, were a pair of strawberries, half-dipped in chocolate. A symbolic gift, if one chose to interpret it as such. Something to be shared and enjoyed, for just a moment, before moving on to better things. "One for each of us. I will eat mine, and then you yours." With a bow of her head and closed eyes, she held the box out for Hemlocke to regard and make his selection, to once more choose for the woman before him.

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