"My apologies aren't false," Quentin muttered defensively. "And I'm not feigning ignorance, either. If you find me ignorant, then I must be. I never advocated the murder of children, Princess." He drew in a long breath, released it slowly. "Clearly you're missing my point altogether."
"You may never have advocated it, yet your soldiers still killed them in cold blood. I have no doubts that if I hadn't run that night I would have died with my parents. And what of the slavery prince? The enslaving of my people who have done nothing but express concern. If your clear ignorance and apologies are not your point, then do tell what is?" Cicada responded her eyes still glaring at him. She had stopped drinking and eating all together all of her focus now on him.
(Bump.)
"You're still blaming me for the actions of the kingdom's soldiers," Quentin said calmly. "As if I had any say in that. As if I personally went to those who make the plans for war and the aftermath thereof and requested that they do so." He tapped his fork against the plate and sighed. "What do you expect me to do here, Princess? Because lashing out at me in this way– blaming me for the pains and sorrows of your own kingdom– is doing neither you nor them any good." He paused. "I'm just trying to have dinner."
Cicada paused and forced herself to not speak any further. He didn’t, he didn’t understand. In her eyes doing nothing was the same as doing something, especially when that some was the prince of a kingdom. Her hands were balled up tightly and worse she felt like a child that had just been scolded for speaking their mind. She took a deep breath to stop herself from doing something idiotic before speaking again, “If all you want to do is eat, then I would like to go back to my cell.”
"Hm. But I thought you didn't want to talk to me in the first place," Quentin responded dully. Was that hurt in his voice, possibly? "So, if I'm not mistaken, didn't you only come to eat, too? You shouldn't mind whether or not I want to do anything else, since you so adamantly stated you wanted nothing to do with conversation…"
“Yes, and I have eaten,” Cicada responded looking at him. She hadn’t wanted to converse and then he had hit a touchy subject. She still didn’t want to talk with him but felt the need to. Now he, who had been trying to get her talk for most of the meal, decided to pull that on her? She repeated herself, “I would like to go back to my cell.”
"As you wish." Quentin waved his hand to the guards for them to escort her back, though he didn't bother accompanying this time. He didn't even bother rising from his seat. But he did offer her a closed smile. "Until next time, then, Princess?"
Cicada didn’t smile back or respond to the prince. She willingly let them drag her away although her sore wrist started to bleed with how rough they were being. Once back in her cell the first thing the guards did was chain her back down and put the nails in her wings. But not in the old holes, no they pushed them through skin tearing it open to make new holes. It took everything Cicada had not to scream or cry from the pain.
(Timeskip to the next visit, you think?)
(Yep! Do you want to start?)
(Sure, sure! ^-^)
Yesterday's attempt to speak with Cicada had been a failure. Quentin blamed himself as much as he did the Princess. His approach had been sloppy at best, and he swore to himself to straighten it out today. Or at least try to. Although how he intended to do that… well, he hadn't gotten that far yet.
He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt, humming to himself as he walked down the dungeon halls once again. A few guards accompanied him, and several others lined the hallways, armed and stoic. He came to a stop in front of her door, spinning on his heel to face the barred door. "Good afternoon, Princess."
(Thanks!)
Cicada had been waiting for something, anything to happen to her from her leaving Prince Quentin at dinner and now. Nothing had and it almost disappointed her. She glared up at where the prince now stood and though they had just seen each other a day ago, Cicada was in more pain than the prior day as she was still adjusting to the new holes in her wings. Her eyes narrowed at him as she stayed silently, back to stage one the prince went. Maybe even a stage zero if that was possible.
(Yep yep! ^-^)
Quentin stood in silence for a moment, as if awaiting her response, but none came. He cleared his throat and straightened himself a bit. "I came to apologize for yesterday's little… ordeal. I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot." He licked his lips once, his gaze momentarily dropping to the ground before meeting hers. "I don't expect you to accept any apologies from me, as you clearly hate me, but I would like for it to be stated that I don't hate you. But I'm not fond of the way things are currently, so whether you like it or not, whether you intend to help me or not, I am going to attempt to right it to the best of my ability."
Cicada paused taking in his words. He wanted to apologize for yesterday, but he didn't seem to want to admit to anything. Then again he did seem nervous at the moment catching his gaze drop to the floor and the minuscule movements. She kept her eyes glared at him, "Prove it. Prove that you want to attempt to right it. If you really do, actually enter my cell."
Quentin hummed softly, as if he were considering this. He folded his hands together, tapped the tips of index fingers together, thinking. He nodded to one of the guards, who promptly unlocked the door and opened it for him. He stepped inside, though he remained out of her reach due to her bindings. "Here I am, Princess."
Cicada watched him as he contemplated and then finally he entered. She hadn’t been expecting him to do so figuring he was as spineless as the rest of his family seemed to be. Though he had done what she had asked she still didn’t believe what he said. He had hesitated telling her he probably only said what he said for diplomatic reasons. She found no intent behind his words. Her voice held a very sarcastic and mocking tone to it, “There you are. So what do you want today your highness, breakfast with me?”
Quentin smiled lightly, tilting his head subtly to the side. "That wasn't what I came to offer, but if you'd be interested in joining me, I wouldn't be one to decline you."
"I wasn't offering either," Cicada retorted her eyes narrowing at him. She had assumed that's why he hd come down, but apparently she had been wrong, "But I am intrigued as to what you were going to offer."
Quentin paused a moment, tapping his chin. "My apologies, first off, dear Princess. As well as my condolences for your kingdom. And… an offer." He tugged at his sleeves and smiled. "Well, more of a gift, really. How would you like to get out of this infernal dungeon and into more… acceptable living quarters?"
"At what cost?" Cicada responded narrowing her eyes further towards him. His apologies still didn't seem quite genuine, but they were better than yesterday's. Then he was offering her a way out of this cell and into possibly an actual room. She didn't think he would give that away for free considering she had valuable information.
"No cost," Quentin responded. "Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't constantly act like I'm the devil himself." Truth be told, she was making this more difficult for him than he'd anticipated. That's why he felt like he was being forced to play the long game here. Simply forcing anything on this woman would never do. Their first encounter proved that much. It had to be something more strategic than that. "Of course, I can't give you free reign– at least not until you ease up on the death glares– because right now I'm fairly certain you'd kill me if you had the chance." He said this with a light chuckle, though he wasn't joking.
Cicada let her face relax just slightly. She would kill him if given the chance, though the fact he laughed almost caused her to glare again. She tried to sit up but hunched back over as pain shot through her wings from the movement. If there was one thing she hated, it was the fact she had to look weak in front of him. Her eyes looked back to him at a glare while she gave him a wicked grin, "Glaring is just my way of saying hello. So I won't stop that, but. But I'll take your offer as long as you get these pins out of my wings."
"Well I'll have to if I expect you to go anywhere, now won't I?" Quentin stepped out of the cell– because clearly he wasn't going to stand around in there whilst she was being released. "But I do recommend looking into some new methods of greeting people," he said with a smile as he nodded for the guards to get her and unpin her wings. "Glaring usually makes people uncomfortable, and I'm not sure how I feel about making friends who look like they want to rip out my throat with their bare teeth." He was joking, but also not.
Cicada once again wanted to cry out in relief as the pins were removed. She was forced up to her feet, but at the very least it was much easier to stand than it was yesterday. A wicked grin made it to her face as she was guided out of the cell and towards the prince, “Well maybe I have my reasons to glare at my enemies in greeting don’t you agree? So I won’t stop yet.”