Ambience

---

Catarina walked down the spiral staircase behind the loose bookshelf in her study. Her footsteps reverberated off the stones and down the staircase, heralding her descent. She took her time with the stairs. Each footstep was allowed its own room, space to breathe, time for the echoes to decay. Time for her prisoner to digest them.

The stones in the stairwell were rough-cut and darkly coloured. A perfect fit for a secret chamber. The way was lit by a hand-held tallow candle, mounted on a little polished bronze dish. The wick had been soaked in oils to brighten the light it let off. Candles were cheaper and more efficient than an oil lamp, so Catarina saw no reason to not use one. In all fairness, it did reek like burnt animal fat, but small sacrifices must be made.

The last step always let out the quietest echoes, somewhat anti-climatically. The room at the bottom was a secret study, with books and alchemical reagents cluttering shelves, ink-stained carpets lining the floor, and arcane tapestries lining the walls. A tall, three panel mirror features against one wall, partially obscured by purple velvet curtains. Keen eyes would spot that this mirror reflects nothing. Instead, it showed smokey white swirls which shift and change when one isn't looking at them.

A writing desk occupied the opposing wall and a lectern stared over a large, circular portion of stone flooring. The lectern had shelves built into its column, which were filled with candlesticks and bowls.

Catarina stepped into the chamber and turned to her left.

There sat her long-time vexer. A subject of fascination and frustration, finally within her grasp. The rival, Aïtana Du'Vall, had been seated in and tied to a chair. The chair was made of a rich wood which matched the writing desk, and was well-cushioned. The ropes were thick cord, and tied well.

"Are you... comfortable?" she asked in her low, slow drawl. "I am terribly sorry about this situation. But then again, it would have been different if you knew where that nose of yours isn't welcome."

She turns and paces around the room, tending to the candles. "So. We both know I can't keep you here forever. Start talking. How - and why for that matter - did you come to be snooping through my shit?" A crack pierced the air as she slammed her hand against a nearby bookshelf, staring over into Aïtana's eyes, fury tearing at her eyes.

Catarina's anger dripped away from her face, almost becoming kind when Aïtana stared back. But she never broke her gaze. Never stopped analyzing and studying. The other woman's face was cold and inexpressive, but things were never that simple. In the same position, Catarina would hide her own emotions. She would be a fool to assume Aïtana wouldn't. The spitting told her everything she needed to know. Disdain, frustration, defiance, and hatred. Meeting this with more hate could never help.

Cata was the one to break the gaze when she paced over to the cabinet in the far corner. She placed the candle on a small raised slab and opened the cabinet door. Strange glass and marble apparatus filled the shelves, placed in tidy and organised rows. Rags were folded and stacked on the bottom shelf. Catarina lifted one from the stack. She walked over to where the spit had soiled her carpet, and crouched down to clean it.

"This was expensive, you know," she said. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you."

She stood and began toying with the rag before leaning against a nearby shelf, eyes looking her captive up and down. Her nails tapped on the spine of a wood-bound book. "Aïtana, darling, look. To be frank, I don't like imprisoning people. It's disgusting, honestly. I don't want to have you as my prisoner any more than you want to be my prisoner..." she trailed off. The tapping stopped. "So believe me when I say that I only want to know how you came to be here so I can avoid having to do this to others. It's just damage control, see?"

Cata closed her eyes for a few seconds and let out a long, defeated sigh. She slid the wooden book off the shelf and clutched it against her. Iron clasps held it shut, and strange shapes were burned into the back cover. "I suppose if today is to be a day for honesty between us, then I should take the lead... I do admire you. You have strong morals, which I would genuinely love to hear about some time." Her eyes found Aïtana's as she lowered herself to the floor to sit down. They were playful and full of interest. "Maybe after I've got you situated in a more appropriate cell. It's being outfitted to hold a guest of your esteem at the moment. It should be ready by tomorrow. But, I digress. You must have left traces, and so many people are wont to follow such clues. If they do, then they'll just wind up here, like you. You don't really want to get anyone else captured, do you?"

A grin spread over Catarina's face, only widening further as Aïtana continued her tirade. The last few sentences sent her into a shaking, cackling fit. It took her a moment to fully recover. Her next words were spoken through deep breaths and more than a few giggles. "I... Oh, aren't you something. I knew you were a principled woman, but I never knew you had such wit. It certainly hasn't shown in court before. Usually you're such... She paused to stand, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "Well, usually you're such a bore."

She slid the book back onto the shelf and began to make her way behind the chair, caressing Aïtana's cheek on the way around. It was warm to her touch. Excellent. Her hand slipped just below the ear and she pressed slightly. A fast pulse. Even better. Catarina smirked as she thought of just how easy Aïtana would be to piss off. People with tempers were always her favourites. They were so rewarding. Lowering herself to her knees, Catarina placed her chin on Aïtana's shoulder, reaching around the other side of her neck with an arm.

"Oh, I truly am sorry darling. I did not mean to upset you. But, um... how to say?" she said. She took a moment to make a show of considering her next words, hand grazing her cheek. "But we are not equals. Not really. Think about it: if we were equal, how could I do this?"

Her hand slipped away, words hanging in the air for a moment, wafting around Aïtana's head like a threatening, musky perfume. All the better to allow her captive's mind to race. This was the fun bit. Her hand gripped the back of the chair. She pivoted on her knee. Yanked down with one arm, unbalancing the chair and driving it into the ground. She sat back onto her knees. Her eyes sparkled with a smug smile as she looked down at her captive and placed her hands in her lap. "Aïtana darling... this is not an act. I don't know how else to break the news to you, but I'm not whatever exaggerated caricature you've constructed of me. Although... you got one thing right. I am fond of novels. One runs out of treatises and philosophical dialogues, as I'm sure you know. But then again, you do seem to read only Varka, so I could be wrong."

Catarina turned and began surveying her bookshelves. "Here -" she said, pointing at a thick, red leather bound book. "I can recommend this one! A thrilling romance between a poet and a painter, written with a lovely impressionist influence. I know the man who wrote it, as a matter of fact. He signed it for me."

Aïtana would be a difficult one. Cata had always known her to be headstrong. Most start showing signs of beginning to crack by now, but this resistance and refusal to engage would make things difficult. That just meant it'd be fun though, right? They all crack under enough pressure. And diversion of the pressure just meant she had to apply it elsewhere. Catarina let out a low giggle. "Oh again! I keep digressing. You are good at getting me off topic, darling. But anyway. The world is so much more complicated than you think it. Yes, I have done regrettable things. Everyone has, after all. But that hardly means I am a monster," she said. Her next words were to be a gamble. If there was anyone who hadn't faltered in their morals, it was Aïtana. But she was confident, and right or wrong, she would learn something. "And likewise, you've made some commendable choices, but you are no perfect being. You've made some horrible decisions in the past, no? Does that make you a monster?"

That apathy in Aïtana's eyes made Catarina smirk. She had played this game before. She knew people with a will this strong could never break this early. It was a fake apathy, one constructed to throw her off, to make her think she's breaking no ground.

Delicious.

She'd seen many like this in the past. Both within Castrolibero and without. There was a shimmer of defiance in the ones who hadn't truly broken. Oh how lovely to watch it turn. She swept a strand of hair from her face and looked down her nose into Aïtana's eyes. "Miss Du'Vall... darling, no... you know better than this, surely?" she drawled, mocking the other woman with everything, all the way down to the rhythm of her words. "Or... maybe not? Okay, let me explain. Sometimes when you say certain things, like say... I recommend taking a long look into the mirror. You might throw up from the very view you find in it or... just to blame it on me once you start your torture, I'd suggest you cut to the act, it implies certain things. That means you might not say it, but the words still carry the meaning! Exciting, right? For example, those words imply that you think of me as a monster."

Throughout the entire explanation she kept a mockingly sincere expression on her face, complete with a furrowed brow and pouty lips. She put deliberate effort into mocking Aïtana's tone while she was quoting her. Unwilling to stop there, she continued, saying "Another example might be that this entire time I have been implying that you're a fucking idiot. Didn't you pick up on that, darling?"

Her mouth split into a wide smile, lighting up her eyes. This really was too easy. She briefly reconsidered picking on such low-hanging fruit. Surely it couldn't be this easy? But... no. Instead, she giggled a low and flirtatious giggle. "Oh you're too much fun darling. Maybe I will let you one day. You know, let you uhh... 'save' me - deep, deep inside," she booped Aïtana on the nose and winked, "Maybe."

With a swirl and a swish, Catarina stood. She walked behind the chair once more, this time lifting it back up so Aïtana was once again seated properly. Guests should never be made to feel uncomfortable. The chair creaked as it pivoted. A long, high whine. A thud as it connected with the carpet. Cata circled around to position herself in front of Aïtana. She crouched slightly, coming down to eye level with her captive.

"But after all this you say I'm responsible for my actions? Go on then. Hold me responsible, and I'll hold you responsible," she said, slowly, deliberately. Dangerously. "I won't if you won't, darling."

She winked.

Catarina's shoulders slumped and her eyes rolled miles. Her face soured into a scowl, and she crossed her arms and stood upright. "Ugh, you take yourself far too seriously. Lighten up, sheesh. Maybe I was right about you being dull," she sighed, voice full of exasperation. The facade slipped a little here and her face betrayed genuine emotion. Her eyes gleamed more than usual, her shoulders were tense, her intonation a little too disappointed. Almost as fast as the emotion showed, she pivoted away, hiding it. "You have no sense of fun. You really should let loose. We can agree on two things though," she said, turning to look Aïtana in the eyes, "One: I'm not a monster, and two: you should stop wasting your breath."

She paced back to Aïtana. How to do this? A million possibilities flashed through her mind. In the end, her eyes settled on the scar on Aïtana's cheek. Her hand reached up, hovering, teasing. She could feel the warmth of her cheek. Pure magic flowed into Cata's fingertips, setting off wild tingles and spreading nervous static.

With less than the brush of a fingertip, Catarina released the magic to tear at the nerves in Aïtana's head, overloading her with pain. Forcing her to pass out.

---

The new cell had been finished on time, much to Catarina's relief. The particularly weak-willed bound servants had been ordered to refurnish the once cruel chamber into something more hospitable. After all, cruelty and torture is what's expected, and breaking people requires subverting expectations.

The cell had been transformed into a comfortable study. Several heavy wood bookshelves sat by a lectern, packed full of books by famous philosophers. Discerning viewers would recognise several names among them - Markus Jakober, Renfry Bucholtz, and Estibaliz Gizikis to name a few. Well-read viewers would understand that all of these thinkers were known for their advocacy of decentralised government and rejection of current ideas in the field of ethics. The lectern nursed the most interesting book of all - a red leather bound volume which bore a signature on the flyleaf.

A comfortable feather bed with strong wooden posts sat beside another wall. The candlelight shimmered off the fabric of the silken sheets, interrupted only by Aïtana, who was laid out on top. A dark wooden table stood regally in the center of the cell, attended by two chairs and a candlestick.

There were no shackles or chains. No cruel iron spikes. In fact, the only indication that this was a cell at all was the row of steel bars thick enough to mock the very idea of escape looming in the center of the room. Cata was quite proud of the whole assembly, if she did say so herself.

In a mirror image of Aïtana, Catarina woke peacefully in her own bed. She was relaxed, spread-eagle across the bed, her mind at ease. Her eyes slid open, pupils shrinking and shying from the first grey sunlight that crept in from an open window. She laid there for a minute. Curling herself into the blankets to appreciate the warmth.

The world was waiting.

More specifically, Aïtana was waiting.

Catarina's thoughts drifted over to her captive. She'd proven difficult last night. Unexpectedly so. With her constant pressing into her deflections. But then again - had it ever been any different in court? Of course not. People never change in one night, Cata. She got under your skin. Don't let it get to you. The affirmation rung in her head as she slowly hoisted herself up and out of bed.

Her bare legs dangled from the bed and grazed the floorboards. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and scratched the life out of her scalp. It was improper etiquette, but, as she was wont to say: fuck the ettiquitte. She slept in the nude. It was comfier. The blankets felt comforting against her skin and her body heat got around more quickly. Her thoughts slid back to Aïta- No. Deal with that later. Go get dressed.

She got up, and donned a long dress made of rich purple material, high top wedge-heeled boots, an amethyst-jeweled silver hairpin, and a short black cloak. Nothing fancy - not by her standards - but enough that looking in the mirror gave her a surge of confidence. So much for throwing up, she thought with a giggle.

She made her way out of her bedroom and onto the mezzanine level in the main room. On the mezzanine level there were books and documents and files lining every available surface, seemingly meticulously ordered despite the sheer quantity of them. A shelf full to the brim of various inks, quills, waxes, penknives, and parchments, was positioned behind a polished wooden desk. On the floor below, there were the other general amenities one might need in a household, such as a kitchen, dining area, and a small fireplace. Several smaller bookshelves were built into the walls on this floor, and a cellar entrance sat in one corner.

Catarina collected her mail from the front door and sat in her dining area to read them. Such began a short morning of chores. Cleaning, cooking, reading, writing. She preferred not to keep servants due to their tendency to get curious. Soon, all that was left to tend to was her prisoner. She gathered some bread and cheese in a cloth bag and made her way downstairs through the secret door behind the false bookshelf.

Soon enough, she was unlocking the door and walking in.

Only to see Aïtana in her underclothes for the second time that week. She raised one eyebrow and smirked a little. Her eyes may have wandered for a second, or maybe she was just amused that Aïtana still hadn't got dressed. "Good morning Aïtana. For all you vex me, I must say you have a delightfully comfortable taste in underwear! Where might I find some? Help a lady ou-" an abrupt stop as Aïtana flushed red. Catarina giggled a slow, low giggle. She began to talk again, her tone light, playful, and dismissive. "Oh darling don't worry about me, there's no need to be embarrassed. There's nothing you have that I don't. Besides, I saw the same last night I am seeing now. I took your clothes and washed them - they should stink less now."

The door clicked shut behind her, and she placed the key on a table to her right. She rubbed her forehead. "You're confused about the lodgings, no? You expected a dungeon with chains and rusty bars?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows. She spread her arms wide. "I like to keep my guests comfortable. Pay it no mind. I've put the book I recommended last night over there-" she gestured to the lectern, "It's really quite nice, you should read it if you find the ti- wait. You have all the time in the world! How I envy you, Aïtana."

She paced over to the cell bars and raised the small bag of food. "I've had a long morning of writing and need a break. Join me for breakfast?"

She pulled out the bag's contents and sat on the floor, laying the bag out as a small picnic cloth and placing the food atop it. She picked up a loaf of bread, sliced it, and spread some cheese on it, passing it to Aïtana through the bars.

"Oh, and... please, for the love of all that is good, lighten up this morning. I am in the mood for jest and if you're anything like you were last night, you're going to ruin that."

Catarina's eyebrows rose ever so slightly at Aïtana's offer to give her the address of the lingerie shop. Genuine surprise was not something she felt often. She blinked a few times, furrowed her brow slightly. Then, from her seat on the ground, she looked up at Aïtana and spoke. Her voice was softer than Aïtana had heard it before. "Yes, actually. I would love the address. Hold on, let me-" she patted down her dress, hoping to find some long-lost slip of paper. Nothing."It seems I don't have anything to write it on, and I am sure I'll forget if you just tell me... Would you do me a favour? I've put some parchment in the top drawer in your lectern over there. There should be ink and pens in the drawer below it. Be a dear and pass them through so I can write the address down."

While Aïtana next spoke, Catarina sliced more bread. She spread a healthy portion of cheese on it and slowly brought it towards her mouth, but forgot to take a bite. Regardless, the bread lingered. Yet again, her brows furrowed. Her lips parted a little and she tapped on the bread crust. Aïtana was certainly giving her a lot to think about. In time, through a fog of thought, she spoke. "I think... yes. You are right. Be... as angry as you will. After all, if this situation were reversed..." she trailed off, snapping out of her thoughts and looking Aïtana up and down. Her captive would surely notice that she was studying her face and body language, drinking in the detail and swirling it around her brain like a fine wine. "I would definitely be a lot more aggressive than you are being now. I suppose it's a luxury for me. Not wanting to hurt you, I mean."

Catarina took a small and disinterested bite from the bread. She chewed slowly, eyes staring down into the loaf. Somewhere deep down, for a short moment, she allowed herself to feel satisfaction. Aïtana was noticably less wilful today. Maybe from the previous night, maybe from the repetitive pain, and maybe from Cata's actions. Maybe even for an internal reason. It would have been nice to know which of these it was, but that was not knowledge she was privy to. Whichever way, she had something to work with now. She had leverage. These suggestions of Aïtana's... they told Catarina what she wanted, far beyond the obvious "escape" and "justice". Whatever value that held. They gave an inkling as to what she thought she could gain. Respect.

Was this about to become easier? She swallowed her mouthful. Only one way to find out.

"I think I should start showing you respect, Aïtana. I acknowledge that I have been less than kind so far, and honestly I have no interest in continuing that. The only issue is... well I don't really know how you would want me to show that. As someone who's more experienced in this than I... how would you do it? And... as someone who's in a less advantageous situation, how could I show you?" She cleared her throat. Short, sharp, polite. "How could I show respect in such a position, I mean... Having you in a cage and all. I obviously cannot let you out, that would destroy me. Even though that's clearly what you want," she said, looking Aïtana in the eyes, pouring earnestness into her voice. Her own eyes glittered with emotion. Maybe she was laying it on a bit thick. But then again, maybe it was just enough. What Catarina found odd was that some of this was genuine. She wasn't saying this just to manipulate - there was some drowned and long-dead emotion below it. Did she really- Let's not think about that right now.

She stood. The old iron key rested heavy in one palm, the light and cheesy bread in the other. Her eyes rested on the second chair at the table. Maybe that quick glance, the appearance of a subconscious acknowledgement, would be enough to get Aïtana to wonder why it was there. Even if only briefly, the seeds could be sown.

But now Aïtana spoke of the book. Perfect! Catarina's face lit up with a smirk. Her previous playful demeanour edged its way back onto her face as she looked at Aïtana under hooded eyes. "Well now, you wouldn't want me to spoil the story for you, would you darling? That would take the fun out of it. Wouldn't want you to miss out on the surprises. Though... I could give you a synopsis if you like. Only if you want to hear, of course. I would loathe to bore..."

Catarina's eyes met Aïtana's as she reached through the bars to take the address. "Oh why thank you, that was very helpful of you, darling," she said absentmindedly, stashing the parchment in a fold in her clothes. Her mind was on how Aïtana's tone had shifted, even in just those two words. There was mutual ground here, and she felt some satisfaction from that. She was closer to her goal, after all. But there was something else there. They had just interacted as people for the first time since they met, so many years ago. It was odd. She was used to having had that already. She would have to pay the shop a visit the next day.

She listened to Aïtana's requests, nodding to confirm when Aïtana assumed her intention to supply food. The requests were more than fair, those she didn't plan on would be easy enough to fulfill. The only one that could be an issue is the newspaper. If there's anything being published about Aïtana being missing, it could prove an issue. But that's a bridge that could be crossed later.

Then, Aïtana requested water. Catarina let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her forehead. "Fuck, it's always the basics I forget..." she groaned, under her breath. She took a second before speaking clearly again, "But of course, Aïtana. These are all just common courtesy. I did intend to have a basin here for you, refilled daily. Unfortunately, I must have forgot while choosing the books. It will be here tomorrow when you wake. Until then..." she said, trailing off as she saw Aïtana running out of bread. She prepared her some more and passed it through the bars. "Until then, I'll bring you a pitcher, some cups, and the newspaper after we finish this conversation."

Her eyes briefly narrowed as she studied Aïtana. She rubbed her chin and bit her lip, grimacing slightly. "What are your measurements, darling? You may fit into some of my clothes." she said. She was never going to go and retrieve Aïtana's clothes from her lodgings. This would be a terrible idea, as surely someone would know Aïtana was missing by now. Her room would be closely monitored, and pulling any strings to change that would look far too suspicious, even high ranking as she is. "When I visit the shop tomorrow I'll get some spare undergarments, too. Would you like more of the same, or a different style?"

Aïtana's next words made Catarina look at her as if she had just burst through the door shouting nonsense. And, in a sense, that's just what Catarina thought about her words. She blinked a few times. A careful cadence took hold of her voice as she spoke next. "Of all the things you have ever said to me, Miss du'Vall... That is the most shocking. How- wh- uh... How? Please do explain."