[attr="class","isratalk"]

It was a charming scene.

The kind of scene that Isra finds easy to get lost in. Her eyes move across the skyline, such views were not unfamiliar to her but she found them thoroughly breath taking every time. There's a fleeting moment where she thinks of the blinking out lights in the distance like dying stars on the land and it seems so fitting an idea. How every night the world dies a little more but when it wakes and rebuilds itself it is not into something better, they always stray further away. The smile is soft, barely there. The stars move into the black waters beyond them in her mind, snuffed out in its depths, devoured in its darkness. Wipe it clean. If only.

"Hm?" he pulls her from her sprawling thoughts, the quiet between them had been so comfortable she'd almost forgotten where she was. The feather light sound of the sonata he's chosen in the background only serves to make her more so and she finds his presence does her little favor. Her eyes move to him and the rest of her attention after, he blends into the view, another part of the scene and for a moment she's lost to him too. She can't decide where he fits and looks back to the treat they're to share instead, finding that easier to focus on.

Isra blinks, looking to break the spell and return to his question. "Depends on what you mean by 'close'." she buys herself time to settle back into herself by reaching out to carve off a piece of the cake for herself and as she picks it up with her fork her other hand moves under it, just in case. She speaks again before moving it to her mouth. "You could say I am close with my siblings but I hesitate to call my relationship with the rest anything like that."

Because how do you call yourself close to people that do not see you, only what you are meant to be, could be, would be because they say so? Isra is not so lost in their words to not see that they care little for her and she seeks to care little for them in return.

She takes her bite of the treat, delicate as always and there's a moment where she seems to perk up in delight at the taste of it. The woman glances back down at it for a moment before looking back to chosen company for the night. Though she thinks it, she does not ask why he asks. She suspects it has to do with what he mentioned back at the festival and doubts she will need inquire to find out more.

Besides, they have plenty of time and Isra is keen on enjoying it.

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra watches the movement of his hand, letting the questions roll around in her head. Picking apart the words as if they could tell a tale of their own and in a way they do. They will. When someone speaks so evenly you must seek other things. His questions are specific and Isra contemplates what his train of thought must be.

"Both of those are complicated answers." answers that stretch into things that she is not so keen on speaking about freely. Things that are better kept close to home. Most of the world can't begin to understand how her family dynamic works, the way they are both wrapped around her words and critical of every action she takes. The double edged sword of her position, the consequence of the only trait of herself that survives the weight on her shoulders.

Defiance.

She reaches to cut off another piece of the funnel cake, but something in her demeanor shifts ever so slightly. "And before you try and get me t elaborate Remiel." she scoops the piece up, hand stretching out bellow it. "I'm not very fond of conversations where I am the only one answering questions." She makes a point to look at him.

"So tell me, are you close with your family?" Perhaps he'll catch the implication, he can either answer his own questions, an offering of information for information. Or he can seek to answer something else entirely. She leaves which he prefers up to him.

Isra is dainty with her bite as always.

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra keeps herself from smiling, decidedly returning to her usual neutral expression as she watches him. She sees what she expects at least to a degree. Someone that is comfortable taking the lead (but she knew that already) recoiling, even if only a little, from having that snatched out from under them. The woman finds a certain delight in the upset, something that always entertains at least for a little while.

"Hmm..." she pauses, as if she were skeptical. It would be easy to spin a tale to satisfy her of course, and he wouldn't be the first to make such an attempt to lie to her. Isra keeps her hand on her fork as she watches him, eyes flitting from his hand to his face again before she decides to accept his answer.

"My mother's not any better." she states plainly. "My father is barely worth mentioning and his side of the family is rarely worth wasting time on." truly, the Ruhan family she belonged to on paper was a rotten bunch bellow their well crafted surface. Most accepted the prideful and generous outward image they portrayed but any that knew to look closer would realize they kept more than their fair share of secrets.

She looks back over the skyline, the dimming lights in the distance catching her eyes again. "The Nightingales are something else entirely." a conversation she gingerly avoids.

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Movement garners attention, half instinct half curiosity as her eyes return to him, or rather the sudden lack of him.

Isra turns to watch him and the momentary search for whether he wishes for her to follow or not is quickly answered regardless and she remains in her seat. She thinks it a little better than following anyway, watching him with quiet delight. She quite enjoys how well he carries himself, his words lend him a certain confidence in her eyes though she doesn't let it show. She doesn't let much show at all, not until he returns to her.

Her eyes never quite settle on the wine bottle, fixing in on his when he sets it down instead. The gentle clink of the wine glasses almost earns him a half smile before she speaks.

"No there is not." she wonders where he's heard such things, little pieces of nonsense in the wind perhaps. "Not anymore at least, lost somewhere in between here and there."

"Nowadays we hail from Sinnoh most strongly, though I doubt it is the only place our bloodline can be found, Remiel Calcifet." There is an emphasis on his name, a warning beneath the word. Quite certain he seeks to get something out of her but Isra is equally willing to make him work for it, at least a little bit.

Isra watches him closely now, it's one thing to dance around the topic of her family, but to linger on it is a different story all together.

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

She watches the wine until he speaks, eyes flitting back up to his when he hands her the glass and she takes it delicately. Letting go of her fork and whatever notion that she might take another bite that she'd had. "No one else needs to know." she retorts, eyeing the wine while he pours his own. It would seem he spares no expense and it does not surprise her.

Isra does not stand to follow him, her eyes dropping to her glass when he leaves the table again. Instead she listens to sound of his footsteps against the roof top, the gentle rustle in the greenery from the slight breeze the waters bring to the city. She seeks them out amongst the notes of the music in the background and only sips from her glass when she's certain he has stopped. The woman approves of his choice, but keeps that to herself.

The fact he seems so keen on speaking about family perplexes her, if only mildly. If they were in Sinnoh, or at least he from there she could understand. They were not so unknown across the waters but Hoenn had always resisted their presence to a degree. In many ways it was part of why she stayed, a place where she could be without the looming reputation of a Nightingale constantly interfering. Here she was a ghost, something that blended into the background more than not.

He speaks and Isra sets down her glass and disarms herself, though it's a subtle gesture. The bag that hides beneath her shawl contains her pokemon and she shrugs it off, hanging it off the back of her chair. When she stands she decides she has tired of her heels and slips out of them without hesitation, tucking them under her chair. Though she loses the inches the way she carries herself never changes, height matters little to a queen.

"Is that all this is about?" she retrieves her glass and moves to join him, silent as she walks across the terrace. The woman moves like a ghost without her heels, perhaps something expected by someone that knows her family name. "That was hardly anything, if that was you then you did the part that actually mattered." because without it her part meant nothing at all. "It would be one thing if it had been planned that way but coincidence and convenience means little towards notions like debts."

She settles in next to him, eyes out over the view but it doesn't hold her attention now, not like it did earlier. Remiel has managed to give her reason enough to not get lost in her own thoughts, but she does not feel compelled to talk incessantly around him either. Something most chalked up as her being odd and extroverted when really it was how she kept herself grounded to conversation. It seemed she didn't need that here.

"But if that's the only reason you want me here you're welcome to keep thinking it."

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

He doesn't challenge her view and it only wins him approval. Too many fall into the trap of thinking that because things happened to fall into place so neatly it was a good thing. Isra abhorred the idea, though finding a victory in chaos was a pleasant victory of its own some things should never be chaos to begin with. Even with the task completed it was something that should have never been left to chance in the manner it was, it should have been executed in a manner befitting the victory. Remiel had played his part well enough, but too much of the rest was nothing but luck of the draw. It was as easily shattered as a simple yes or no decision, had she not had her Zoroark that night things could have panned out very differently.

The mere thought almost set her blood to boiling. The fact she'd received recognition for it served only to anger her and make her question the standards being placed on them. Contextually she wasn't surprised, the action made sense, but to be recognized for something so sloppy felt unbecoming of someone with her background.

But Remiel does not dwell on the matter so neither does she. He's taken the course of conversation she half expected to see go ignored, but perhaps the part she wanted to see his reaction to the most. He's far too gentle, in his touch but she doesn't pull her hand away from him. She lets him keep it, and rewards him a gentle smile. The touch of his thumb across her hand is more than she expects and she's not sure how to feel, upbringing and nagging voices in her head insist to pull away so she takes a half step closer to him instead. "If I dare to suggest that it's because you wanted to, will I get an honest answer?"

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

He catches her by surprise because he responds so strongly to her question that she's entirely unprepared for it. To be flirtatious and playful is a part of her persona she has found almost necessary. They are traits she wears like one might wear a necklace or a brooch. It is something for people to find charming and endearing, mystery and oddity makes her a creature of allure and she finds herself unable to shake the image. Nowadays she doesn't even try, allowing those that she charms to be moths to a flame in her presence. Even Remiel should be much the same but there is something different in the brush of his cheek against hers and the whisper in her ear.

There is a moment when the touch of another makes her feel more alive than almost anything else will and it is something she knows well, something she seeks with a ruthless determination. She is ruthless because it is fleeting but what he leaves her with at the sound of clinking china is lingering. She has always devoured tension without hesitation, feasting on the energy of it like a dragon made ravenous but she doesn't get the chance and it leaves a weight behind that she is not eager to feel.

Isra cannot shake the feeling that what he seeks is not what she is used to giving. There is too much care in his response for that, he does not act like this is a passing thing, he lacks the careless eagerness for that to be the case but it's not simply the behavior of a gentleman either. Or perhaps that is simply her pessimism talking, the worst case scenario is always the first she thinks about.

For a woman who normally hates liars, there's a part of her that hopes he's a damn good one, a small plea for the best case scenario.

She is staring at her wine glass in her hand when he looks back over his shoulder at her, looking up at him with a decidedly empty expression- save for something unsettled bellow the surface. "Yes, of course."

Besides, she needs the moment to think, before she pours her glass of wine out over the balcony in childish defiance at him for this feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Remiel Calcifet