Interlude [h.s]

thirteen

Alouette is lying down on her bed, wearing nothing but a white lacy nightgown and underwear. She discarded her bra as soon as she entered the room, and it's now lying next to her on the bed.

She rereads the letter in her hand, a smile on her face, that tug at her heart becoming stronger as she goes over her sister's words again and again. She's been taking it out of the little spot she hid it in every day since it first arrived, but the more she reads it, now, the farther away her old life seems to be. The farther away the Revolution seems to be.

It's like they're on the other side of the world, even though she knows it isn't the case. They're only some hours away from her, and yet they seem to unreachable, now.

The cream silky bedsheets smell like lavender and she turns around on top of them, putting the letter aside and staring at the white ceiling. She could get used to that. To living like that. Somewhere where everything is made of fancy textures and everything is handed to her.

She'll miss it when she goes back home.

It's a shame she doesn't get to share it with anyone else, she's sure Amina would love it. Amina would love everything in that beautiful building. She'd feel like a princess.

Alouette wonders if Harry knows how lucky he is, if he's aware of the fact that he was dealt all the right cards even before being born, that he was handed a life most people would dream of having and yet never obtain. Everything is waiting to be taken by him, he just needs to say the word. Some people are more fortunate than others.

She dims the lights, the contrast of their luminescence painful against the obscurity of the night outside. It's a little after one in the morning, but she still hasn't been able to fall asleep.

The Revolution granted her two more weeks to get ready, or so Nathan told her. She should be happy that they listened to her request, but she isn't. It stresses her out to be reminded of her upcoming deadline.

Especially after the conversation she had with Harry some days ago.

She didn't expect him to be so ready, so... willing. But, at the first chance he was given, he jumped on it. He seemed glad, even, as if he was grateful that, whatever it was that was between them, it obtained a more familiar form. Something he knew how to deal with.

And now, she isn't sure where she is, with him. She enjoyed playing some games with him before, but now she feels... lost. What's acceptable for her to say or do, now? She doesn't know.

They haven't talked in the past couple of days. She tried her best to stay as far away from him as possible, and Harry seemed to listen to her wishes, because she didn't see him even once, even though they were walking the same floors.

Alouette wonders if he's trying to sort through whatever happened some days ago in the car as well, or if he's just busy. It's probably the second, since he never seemed to be too bothered by everything that goes on around him. She's sure it means nothing to him, too. That he just went along with it for fun.

Normally she'd take a step back, but as it is, she knows she was just offered the perfect path to follow. She might not mean much to him, but as long as he's willing to take down his defences around her, even just a little... it's all she needs. She just has to thread carefully around him and test him, again and again, to find a way in through the walls he put up around himself. And she has to do so without him noticing.

That's the hardest part, considering how perceptive he is. He won't let her waltz in through the front door, it'll be too much if he only does as much as opening a sliver to allow her to look in. But he might be more willing to open up and less suspicious, if he believes that all she wants is to have him naked in her bed. Which makes it the perfect excuse.