~There are none higher. Gods are stupid, verminous things, and monsters like me cannot have your power. But...thank you, Helena. You may not comprehend the power you wield, but I have already seen it, and it is a thing of terror and beauty. The being Security, I think, personifies it rather completely.~
Grace swims back over, and slowly brushes a selection across Helena's forearm; the sorts of cloth she's seen and felt her poet wear, in endless matches, that she's hooked onto her harpoon and known Helena to prefer, even if she never understood why.
Said as she slowly takes the offered clothing, feeling over the texture. It's soft, and the neckline feels modest, both of which are higher on her priorities.
~It asked me who I was to dare care about you, when we first met. It was my first argument with words. I liked that, and I think I like Security, but do you understand? This was when I understood that I now dwell in your realm.~
Fondly: ~You still underestimate your radiance, and it remains galling, my poet. Thank you, for meeting me. I will remain to ensure the beast gets no ideas, but before I give you your peace...is there anything you want to ask of me? You answered my questions.~
"You give me more answers than you realize, while you ask whatever's on your mind." She shrugs, drifting to another area. "If you have others, ask away. I have nothing else but time for the rest of the day - and I will hear the creature coming, if it wants to come nearby."
~I will stay. I attempted to hunt the beast and it was proof against all attacks; even when little Voyager cast the stars themselves in its teeth. I can get you to safety faster than you can on your own.~
"As you wish. It doesn't mean you can't ask more questions, if you have them."
It's an offer to spend time together, really. As much as Wayne had suggested to not seek her out, if there's a task at hand, Helena thinks it'll be all right.
~The menu says 'boba tea' and it has little balls which are chewy and delicious, but also they go up the straw and then I choke.~ Explanation! ~It is not like the black tea Jack favors. I expect the peers of London turn up their nose at it.~
"I'm not sure how I feel about eating my drink, but I trust your opinion. Though I can't say anything about the British and their tastes...they like odd things."
She shakes her head, pushing aside the hangers.
"If I want something to eat with my tea, I'd prefer something sweet, like a good cake."
~A chatterer with little manners attempted to...'flirt', with me. He has been taught respect.~ Grace makes a satisfied sound, one Helena may remember from the endless matches. ~In some ways I think I have regrets. He was clever enough to leave my Abyss and wise enough to retract his suit rather than press it dishonestly. The chatterer Zelos might be interesting, if his feet weren't clay.~
"The name is unfamiliar to me, but why have regrets? Even if he doesn't choose to press his suit, he could still be a friend to you, if he has enough wisdom and chooses to learn some manners."
She laughs a little, but it's light, gentle and not mocking.
"You deserve someone who would respect you all of the time, and not merely because you made them remember to do so."
~You compliment me too highly.~ Grace can't blush, but the emotion of it probably comes out in her tone. ~But...in the heat of the moment I knew only my need to establish my dignity and say, firmly, that I will not be disrespected or offered hollow wishes. But now that it's done, the novelty was...refreshing.~
Come at her Helena, embrace your inner Hunter, go little a apeshit, as a treat.
~We shall see. I am...what were the words of the Hermit...considering him an outlier, at this time. Your poisonous Painter has at least set a precedent for the idea that I have beauty but I am well aware that I am not a thing like the Barmaid, or you, or the Queen.~
Helena doesn't laugh, but she does move away, having rejected all the clothing there for...what are these, she's trying to discern.
"Now you are the flatterer, Miss Grace. I'm certain that Miss Bourbon, Her Majesty, and you all outstrip me by far in that department. Visual beauty is a realm I cannot cross into, but if even Edgar must bow his head and acknowledge it, there is some pride for you there."
It's fascinating, how one name can be filled with utter flippancy and disdain, but it can be!
There's a world of difference between caring about your appearance in the sense of wearing neat clothes and looking put together and mature so no one pities you and being aware of your looks. Grace is being flattering though, she's sure of it.
~Helena, the Manor was full of people of great beauty, and you are among them. You're right, you are not the same as the Barmaid or the Queen and certainly not the same sort of beauty as that aggravating Prisoner or the gentleman Jack, but you are still a beauty. Not a lure, the way the Barmaid is, no glittering thing that draws others to chase it; yours is more like the stars, or the entrancement of candle flame, but it exists and I will not hear you deny it. The world of sight may not be yours but you move through the worlds in the eyes of others and brighten them, not solely through what your creator has given you but because your gentleness and care brightens your glory and welcomes others to bask in it. Tell me you understand what I have said.~
That's...a lot for Helena to take in. She knows Grace hates insincere words, but they can't feel like anything else to her, because it's too much. Like it's recited from some book instead of meant, because she only knows how stars and candle flames are supposed to be, and how they've been explained in the past. It all feels like a too stiff, too big dress, meant for a true lady who was stronger and witty and better in company than Helena would ever be, someone who actually has glory and holds her head up high. Not her, not on the path she's headed. Even if she becomes the project manager that Lord Raven spoke of, that feels like too much.
She doesn't want to accuse the woman of speaking false, but neither can she feel comfortable accepting it. So, she stays quiet, letting the turmoil of her mind be hers alone.
Slowly, very slowly, Grace boops Helena on the head like she does with the ruler during their...ship-in-a-bottle session. ~I did say to the boy Shouji that you would not want to hear such from me. I am not the one to use these words for you, however true they might be. I am sorry, but...silence is difficult, now.~
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Grace swims back over, and slowly brushes a selection across Helena's forearm; the sorts of cloth she's seen and felt her poet wear, in endless matches, that she's hooked onto her harpoon and known Helena to prefer, even if she never understood why.
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Said as she slowly takes the offered clothing, feeling over the texture. It's soft, and the neckline feels modest, both of which are higher on her priorities.
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"Security is a more particular case than others. You cannot judge the realm by it alone."
Though it does give her comfort, to think she would be defended so.
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It's an offer to spend time together, really. As much as Wayne had suggested to not seek her out, if there's a task at hand, Helena thinks it'll be all right.
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Listen, you said any question.
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Is this some new fad.
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She shakes her head, pushing aside the hangers.
"If I want something to eat with my tea, I'd prefer something sweet, like a good cake."
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Then: ~Are you amenable to the 'girl talk'. A thing happened; it is handled. But it may amuse you.~
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Something that had to be handled? Did Grace have a crush, already? It wouldn't be out of the question...
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She laughs a little, but it's light, gentle and not mocking.
"You deserve someone who would respect you all of the time, and not merely because you made them remember to do so."
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"May it not be the first such occasion. Not to be disrespected, of course, but to feel flattery in that way."
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~We shall see. I am...what were the words of the Hermit...considering him an outlier, at this time. Your poisonous Painter has at least set a precedent for the idea that I have beauty but I am well aware that I am not a thing like the Barmaid, or you, or the Queen.~
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"Now you are the flatterer, Miss Grace. I'm certain that Miss Bourbon, Her Majesty, and you all outstrip me by far in that department. Visual beauty is a realm I cannot cross into, but if even Edgar must bow his head and acknowledge it, there is some pride for you there."
It's fascinating, how one name can be filled with utter flippancy and disdain, but it can be!
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There's a world of difference between caring about your appearance in the sense of wearing neat clothes and looking put together and mature so no one pities you and being aware of your looks. Grace is being flattering though, she's sure of it.
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She doesn't want to accuse the woman of speaking false, but neither can she feel comfortable accepting it. So, she stays quiet, letting the turmoil of her mind be hers alone.
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