Thread: Odette (Montresor & sweet.nothings)

Sister Odette only tilted her face to set her green eyes seriously upon Rogier. His offer was generous, but not because of the amount. The peasants of Montferrand would likely exclaim that it was a rare event when the dragon of castle Montressor gave up an inch. But the way that Odette's face seemingly resolved into a displeased frown would speak of how it almost insulted the devout nun. As if he thought money would suffice this woman of God? She released a slow sigh from her chest and gave the young boy an answer of disappointed silence. It was enough for the quick witted Rogier to recognize that his pest of a guest had no intentions of settling upon his five hundred francs. Rogier rang a bell, which possessed a pleasant chime in contrast to the rough guards who arrived. Odette was puzzled by his mention of a 'tree', but her heart sank, knowing that it couldn't mean anything other than something harmful. Still, she noticed how tall of a young man Monetresor was when he stood up from his chair and adjusted his clothing. It was hard to perceive as the mercenaries hauled her upon her feet, but she was near certain that he stood just as tall as she was, if not more. Her tunic became caught beneath the sole of her simple black shoe as the men made good their duty, making up for their unintentional hesitation. Odette stumbled and was partially dragged away, failing to keep up with their brisk walk, and continued to flounder in step as her nun's habit kept getting dragged underfoot. Oddly enough, the dull beads of the rosary worn at her belt, and the dull cross worn around her neck flickered in the French sun. She was out of breath by the time they reached the Poplar tree, and visibly uneasy with dread and worry at understanding what was going to happen. One mercenary turned her around and pushed her back against the tree and began seizing her wrists into the shackled clamps, and the other man grabbed her coif and plucked it off her head like a discarded hat, tossing it to the ground. A strand of her hair was pulled along with the coif pin, out from the wimple that wrapped her neck, chin, and head, revealing how silky black her mane was. She caught sight of Rogier just as her head was pushed back against the tree, claiming her neck within the crude ring that kept her poised steady. Odette whimpered a feint cry of fear as her fingers fidgeted, watching him prepare his pistol, and pleaded a sorrowful expression with Rogier until a blindfold darkened her day. Was that... an apple ? Odette continued to fidget her fingers nervously while the young Marquee spoke, but she was wrapping her emotions up in considerable time. She was no saint, but Rogier sounded intent on turning her into a martyr. Odette dug deep and found her quiet place, and that is when her fidgeting stopped. She was scared, but she was probably more prepared to face death than any other person Montresor had shackled to the bottom of the execution firing range. You try to provoke God just as you've provoked Antoine? There was an excited heat in her words, moreso from the dread and fear she was feeling than anything else. God will not touch your bullet, Rogier Montresor. You are seeking for Him in all the wrong places, and in all the wrong ways. Her fingers curled into a ball and she took a deep breath, readying herself for an attack she couldn't see coming and was completely helpless against preventing. That was the worst part not being able to see when it will happen. She spoke in a more resigned voice, as calm as possible, and almost whispered to the young lord. If it helps you any at all one day, please know that I have already forgiven you. Because Odette knew Rogier would not aim for that apple. He had nothing to gain from doing so.