"No, you won't," she argued when he said that he'd stop apologising when she did and she grinned at him. It was always a meandering path they took, the two of them, to end in the same destination and, as she kissed him gently, then with increasing intensity Faith considered that it was a good thing. They talked around and around again and, though it was hard sometimes, tiring others, it meant that they reached a deeper and deeper understanding of each other. That could only be a good thing, she thought shortly before all thoughts flew from her and the only thing there was was him and the feeling of his lips against hers and his hands on her. Whispered words, suggesting that they might want to consider getting off the floor before consideration left them were almost out of her mouth when another voice spoke and Padraig leapt up.
And there was that man, that man and Faith knew that she knew him but she felt herself moving just as Padraig did and she stood, albeit a little slower than him. She was not aware of who he was, but this man must be an Immortal, or a rupturer or, what? What? She looked at him and his voice sounded almost familiar. She simply couldn't place where from. Padraig flung a glance at her and there was a question in it, but Faith's expression told him everything he needed to know, there was no question. She and Padraig had been together for months, she hadn't shared Tristan's bed since the end of last season and there was no way that he could think even for a trill that she'd snuck back for seconds. There was literally nothing she wanted there, everything she wanted was here, with him.
"It's a lie. Look. Look!" She moved and grabbed the small bag of Moseke's Mist which she kept with her, showing the Immortal (for such she believed him to be) the dried herb. But what fell out of the bag wasn't Moseke's Mist at all and Faith let out a small cry of surprise. "No... oh, Padraig, it's not..... "
As Padraig told him he wasn't welcome, the intruder in their room smiled and, as the illusion which had covered her was finally dropped, Faith stood and held out a hand which was shaking uncontrollably and which held what looked like dried tea. That wasn't the most surprising thing, though, really. All colour drained from her already pale face as the illusion fell and revealed the small and very evident bump which spoke the truth of his words. "No, please," her whispered words were hopeless, horrified and shocked. "Not... please no. I can't... please."
She looked at Padraig and in that moment she knew fear, real genuine fear. She couldn't lose him. Not now, not him. Not him. There was no doubt in Faith's mind that he would do anything and everything he could for her but this? As her lips began to tremble and tears fell from her eyes she grabbed a heavy wooden hairbrush from the bag and flung it at the Immortal who had caused this.
"Get out! Get OUT! GET OUT!!!!" The former slave screamed with a fury she didn't know she had and a ferocity she had never felt before. After the hairbrush was the small mirror that she kept in her bag and then a small bowl next to the bed. "I SAID GET OUT!"
Whilst there were still items that weren't nailed down, she was going to throw them.
And there was that man, that man and Faith knew that she knew him but she felt herself moving just as Padraig did and she stood, albeit a little slower than him. She was not aware of who he was, but this man must be an Immortal, or a rupturer or, what? What? She looked at him and his voice sounded almost familiar. She simply couldn't place where from. Padraig flung a glance at her and there was a question in it, but Faith's expression told him everything he needed to know, there was no question. She and Padraig had been together for months, she hadn't shared Tristan's bed since the end of last season and there was no way that he could think even for a trill that she'd snuck back for seconds. There was literally nothing she wanted there, everything she wanted was here, with him.
"It's a lie. Look. Look!" She moved and grabbed the small bag of Moseke's Mist which she kept with her, showing the Immortal (for such she believed him to be) the dried herb. But what fell out of the bag wasn't Moseke's Mist at all and Faith let out a small cry of surprise. "No... oh, Padraig, it's not..... "
As Padraig told him he wasn't welcome, the intruder in their room smiled and, as the illusion which had covered her was finally dropped, Faith stood and held out a hand which was shaking uncontrollably and which held what looked like dried tea. That wasn't the most surprising thing, though, really. All colour drained from her already pale face as the illusion fell and revealed the small and very evident bump which spoke the truth of his words. "No, please," her whispered words were hopeless, horrified and shocked. "Not... please no. I can't... please."
She looked at Padraig and in that moment she knew fear, real genuine fear. She couldn't lose him. Not now, not him. Not him. There was no doubt in Faith's mind that he would do anything and everything he could for her but this? As her lips began to tremble and tears fell from her eyes she grabbed a heavy wooden hairbrush from the bag and flung it at the Immortal who had caused this.
"Get out! Get OUT! GET OUT!!!!" The former slave screamed with a fury she didn't know she had and a ferocity she had never felt before. After the hairbrush was the small mirror that she kept in her bag and then a small bowl next to the bed. "I SAID GET OUT!"
Whilst there were still items that weren't nailed down, she was going to throw them.
Off Topic
Dropping of the illusion and bump size kindly provided by Whisper 
I believe her full title is The Diabolical Whisper.
I believe her full title is The Diabolical Whisper. 
