Chapter Text
Yasmina eyed the apartment across from her spot, eyes narrowed with a slow frown as she remained crouched down by the unfinished siding to the apartment complex she’d camped out in. Her phone held to her cheek, and yet she was hardly listening to the other side. Weeks of camping out across from the Broker’s apartment, she knew every little detail about her schedule. It could be an in and out mission, watching the blonde woman’s shadow fall onto the drawn shades and fall out of view.
“She’s gone. Ronnie, I’m going in.” Yasmina stood up, having been tuning out half of the reasons as to why she shouldn’t be doing this in the first place.
Ronnie had immediately hated to hear that, however, alarm in every aspect of her voice as she leaned into the phone with newfound haste. What was she thinking? “What? Yasmina, it’s too dangerous. If you get caught—!”
Yasmina cringed slightly at the mental image, but she wasn’t completely reckless. “I know. And just in case, I have a backup plan if it goes south. But if I get in there, if I figure out the plans about what they’re doing? This will be over sooner than we thought and we can take this out from the source. You have to trust me on this, I know what I’m doing.” She insisted, having been scoping out the place for weeks after all.
Unaware of the danger she’d be walking into.
”It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that this is a risk we shouldn't take before we know more-..” And yet Ronnie trailed off with a sharp sigh, knowing already when graced with silence. “You.. aren’t listening to a thing I have to say, are you?”
“Sorry, Ron… Not this time.” Yasmina knew it was reckless to an extent, but she had confidence in her ability to watch and learn the routine. And if she was going to do this? It had to be now. “If everything goes well I’ll get back to you.. but otherwise? I need you to delete this number and not reach out until I call you. But we need to know for sure if it’s her.” One thing Yasmina was not, was a fool. Whether she thought she was safe or not?
Precautions were to be made in her place.
Ronnie was quiet for a bit, but eventually a resigned sigh followed the call. “Alright.. be safe, get back to me the second you’re out. Be safe, kid.. I mean it.“ She knew she couldn’t talk Yasmina out of it…
And yet she still wished she could
Yasmina took a slow breath, forcing her smile to leak into her tone even if it was forced. “I’ll see you on the other side.” And yet, the second that her thumb had pressed down on the red button and hung up the call? Her smile had fallen all too fast, sighing as she dropped the carefully constructed front she put up. Rubbing the exposed nape of her neck, her fingers traced one of the largest scars that crossed her body.
A noticeable gouging mark left behind from the Scorpios Rex so long ago, a moment she’d longed to forget. Unlike most of her face.. so many scars remained on nearly every inch of her skin, large or not.
Recognizable, if the world had ever seen them unwrapped.
“I hope…”
Because in all actuality, part of Yasmina knew this was too easy. And yet she still knew that if this went how she swore in her mind it was going to— she was prepared for the broker to put up a fight.
So bring on the challenge.
—
Before Yasmina knew it, she’d gone down through the unoccupied building and crossed the street. The man at the front desk frowned sternly, standing tall as he watched her walk in. Yasmina’s hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, having been down near constantly until now. Her signature style when she was a kid—
And yet not so much now.
The ends of her hair still faded out black from dye and in a failed attempt to get it all out, her bangs having grown out more and fell a bit messily over her left eye.
Really, to blend in? She’d gone the route of trying to resemble her younger self.. rather than the one everyone had come to expect. There was a method to why she was aiming for that, however, a precaution she thought out hundreds of times beforehand as she slowly sighed, offering a smile as she held the bag of food up clearly in front of her for the doorman to see. “Food delivery for floor fifty three?” Polite and to the point, watching the doorman eye her up and down slowly before holding a hand out with suspicion narrowing his eyes.
“Bag check, please.”
Yasmina passed the paper bag over without a fight, slowly exhaling as she went to grab her other wrist in a mindless habit, only to clumsily grasp the air and pause in realization. Right.. she was still not-so-aware of her own limb now, quickly dropping back arms to her side and watching the man rifle through the bag carefully. Finding only food and no contraband, he seemed pleased, holding it back out and passing it back with a firm nod.
“Take the elevator up. Type the number onto the keypad, and it will bring you right up where you need to be.” However, he hesitated as his eyes lingered on the nub of Yasmina’s arm, almost seeming to falter in his advice. “Unless you need me to get that for you, ma’am.” He’d almost not noticed at all, not until she had taken the handles into her hand with a firm shake of her head.
“No, that’s okay. I’ve got it, thank you.” Yasmina shifted the bag handles to be held in the bend of her missing arm as she went for the elevator door, pressing the button and stepping inside when the doors opened to allow her entry. A content smile as she found the rest of the elevator empty, she reached over to the keypad with ease, eyeing the numbers and navigating it with ease.
Floor 54.
It was a bit of a wait, the elevator rising up taking time as she took the chance to take a steeling breath and calm her nerves just in case.
Floor after floor, until it came to a stop. Yasmina counted each floor, watching the number grow until the elevator slowed. As the doors opened, she held up the bag on reflex, cupping her mouth with her hand to carry her voice. “Food delivery!” Silence being her reward, Yasmina smiled subtly as she stepped inside, sighing slowly as she went to set the bag on the table with gradual movements.
Not a single person in sight, as expected.
She was moving around with curiosity as she crossed past the folded out blinders that hid the main room of the penthouse. Instantly, Yasmina found herself surprised as she turned the corner. The first thing to catch her attention, the easel standing blank and empty alongside the white tarp that covered most of the penthouse floor. The paintings that lined up against the walls varied in style, but technique? Not so much, Yasmina eyeing each one with a slow whistle. Admiration, maybe, though trying to keep herself focused as she walked over to get a closer look. “I didn’t take her for an artist…”
And yet that seemed the most prominent thing about the penthouse, the shelves lined with various pieces of art. Marble models, full renders of dinosaur skulls… If this woman truly was the broker, Yasmina could see just what she poured her funds into. Her eye was being caught left and right, Yasmina frowning as she shook her head and knelt down to eye the strokes on the canvases scattering. If they were the most important thing to this woman, she might be able to get a reading on her through them, right?
She’d been an artist herself, once upon a time.
Something Yasmina was noticing was the deep contrasting reds that bled into some of the varying art pieces. One merely a water-based art piece with the bloodied color seeming to splash into the vast reflection.
And it wasn’t the only unnerving painting around the room, Yasmina shuddering as she moved her eyes to one that stayed leaned against the wall, half hidden behind a smaller— blank canvas. Blacks, reds, whites. All of it screamed something more.. morbid than the rest, a person stood at the front end with morphing and unnatural features. Despite the depictions varying, each one seemed to be done so carefully. Not rushed, but slow deliberate strokes. Someone with all the time in the world.
Calm.. focused, refined even. Each single stroke laid with purpose.
One in particular seemed more.. hidden away than the rest, Yasmina squinting softly as she pressed aside some of the works to try and get a better look. The most prominent color.. white, greys.. black.. And yet, her focus fell short when she paused, flitting a paranoid glance over her shoulder when she heard such soft noises from where she’d come.
This was easy… Too easy, almost as if—
Seeing the number above the door red and ticking up towards her floor as the elevator climbed levels, Yasmina’s eyes fell wide open in quickly dawning dread. She’d instantly stumbled up and onto her feet with a quick gasp, having to quickly adjust her upper body to not topple over backwards in her alarm. “No.. no—”
Not yet.. she’d hardly been there a few minutes.
Shit.
Fumbling around and trying to retain her calm, she’d quickly nudged the paintings back into place before dragging her feet hurriedly across the floor to cross back to the table. Taking slow breaths to ease her heartbeat that was gradually increasing in intensity against her chest. Yasmina grabbed the bag all too fast, straightening her posture and focusing her body towards the door despite the subtle tremble to her hand.
Play the part.
The elevator gave a soft ding as it leveled out, the doors opening. Yasmina made the first real eye contact she’d ever had with this woman, blinking slightly as she tilted her head subtly up a little more. Almost the same height.. but not quite, the taller blonde looking at her with a slightly defensive expression. “ماذا تفعل في شقتي؟“
Yasmina knew instantly what she’d asked, though a bit panicked. Her Arabic was a bit rusty, and yet familiar enough to know what she was being asked.
In rough translation.. What are you doing in my penthouse.
The woman standing before her was exactly who Yasmina was expecting. Bleach blonde hair that pulled to the side in the back in a messy yet neat bun, tanned skin, and a pair of brown calculating eyes that raked Yasmina’s appearance up and down with a slow eyebrow raising up. In her own arms, she had a pot of flowers carefully tucked down, neatly arranged in her arms in vibrant pink and white shades.
The next question she went to ask died on her tongue, however, as Yasmina extended the bag out between them to interrupt the inquiry. “مرحباً، طلبك الغذائي هنا” Yasmina spoke it with such a distinct accent, the woman’s surprise betrayed her in the moment as her eyes had subtly widened. Before relaxing in sheer curiosity.
When she‘d merely raised an eyebrow rather than answering, Yasmina paused and hurriedly cleared her throat almost in embarrassment. She could’ve sworn she’d spoken it right, but allowed paranoia to take hold of her mind. “Maybe I messed that up… I’m sorry, I have a food delivery for floor fifty three?” Yasmina offered a wobbly smile, trying to keep on the friendly persona despite being faced with the woman staring back at her. “This is floor fifty three, right..?” Watching the questioning look in the woman’s eyes never leave, she felt she had to add the question.
“You are American..” The blonde said this almost unsurely, and yet doubt seemed to line her every word as she stepped forward.
Suspicion held to every inch of the woman’s features, the blonde took a gradual pace to walk out of the elevator as she fully walked into her penthouse, setting the potted flowers down with such a careful motion onto the table beside them. In a second, she’d turned to Yasmina, drawing up a slow hand to pull the paper bag open a bit more to inspect what Yasmina held. Even eyeing the food order and opening the lid for a second, before nodding in satisfaction. Confirming whatever it was she had been checking, clearly as she’d receded just a step. “This is the fifty fourth floor, the penthouse.”
Yasmina awkwardly cleared her throat when faced with the correction, nodding rather hurriedly as she released the breath she’d been holding. Smiling apologetically through her relief as she moved to the side to pass the woman. “Oh! I’m so sorry-.. I’ll just be going then.”
And yet moving to go past her, the woman’s eyes followed Yasmina’s every movement, lingering only for a second before reaching out to grab ahold of her arm and bring her to an abrupt stop. Yasmina had gone rigid when she’d felt the contact, gasping softly and hurriedly whipping her head around. The woman almost seemed blank-faced, eyes narrow as they met eyes.
Except, a soft smile dawned over the seemingly cold expression when faced with Yasmina’s wide-eyed look, tilting her head subtly in thought. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice all of your scars. Paired with your missing arm, it’s far from common to come across someone with such unique features. It truly is a once in a lifetime sight…”
It was odd, just how genuine the sentiment sounded as Yasmina blinked her eyes and stood far taller. She found it a bit.. out of the blue, self conscious as she cleared her throat and turned a bit more towards the woman once more.
She was.. hardly anything like Yasmina had expected. “Oh.. what, these?” Yasmina scoffed slightly, trying to play off her nervousness as she fought the urges to rub the scars on instinct. Touchy subject. “Yeah, I guess I have a few too many… Danger seems to have it out for me.” The laughter had been dry despite her attempts to seem nonchalant, and yet the woman didn’t seem bothered at all.
Curiosity had a hold of her.
So instead, more questions came, Yasmina being the focus of her casual interrogation. “May I ask how you got them? And your arm.. just what happened?”
With the shape of the scars, Yasmina couldn’t exactly play it off like an unrelated incident. Distinct claw marks etched into the skin of her shoulder, still managing to contrast her paler skin. Yasmina kicked herself for not bringing more modest clothing when she jumped on that flight. “Right.. It was a dinosaur attack. I don’t fully remember what it was— but it took a pretty good chunk out of me, huh..?” Yasmina’s smile didn’t reach her eyes despite it, the humor empty in the moment, gently turning her half-missing arm in the hold that kept her still.
The blonde woman stared a while longer, before smiling more fondly as she took the bag out of Yasmina’s hand without a moment to spare. “Well.. in that case I have to insist.” Yasmina’s confusion was instant, wide eyed as the bag was cast aside and instead? The potted plant was set carefully into her now free arm. “Come, sit for me?”
Yasmina was left startled, her eyes wide in disbelief. What? “Excuse me?” Bewildered, and yet as the woman’s hand slid to cup her back, she just let her guide her steps back in and across the tarp.
“Don’t pretend like a minimum wage job is serving you any good financially. I’ll match the price and much more if you’ll sit and pose for me.” The woman seemed rather content, no menace in her eyes as she pulled the stool out a little more clearly for Yasmina to sit. “A portrait of an oddity such as yours.. it would be incomparable to any other.”
Talking about it in such a way, her amputated limb seemed to be more of a treasure to the woman than the clear disability that it was to her.
Yasmina was withdrawn to the idea, flitting a few more passing glances to the elevator doors before nodding slowly. To get off easy, she supposed it would be best to follow along. “If you really want to.. I guess I can’t argue.” Yasmina braced her heel up onto the bar of the stool beneath her, watching the pleased look that the woman held as she retreated back towards the easel to hoist up a blank canvas onto the wooden frame.
“Perfect. All you have to do is sit still, the rest I’ll do myself. A portrait of a girl named..” Soyona trailed off, glancing expectantly over towards Yasmina as she gathered her paints with no real rush driving her movements.
She had Yasmina where she wanted her, after all. Not driving a fuss.
Yasmina didn’t waste any time, already used to the lying. Playing the part with a shying smile, nervously stepping towards the stool despite the resignation crawling up her spine. To deny.. would be suspicious, surely. “Jasmine. Jazz for short.. if you’d prefer.”
“Jazz..” The woman echoed the nickname on her tongue thoughtfully, humming with a faint smile as she turned to grab her paint palette and start to mix the paints to start. “I think that will work just fine.”
Yasmina hesitated, but as her gaze moved to the side through her inspection of the room around her? She found some slow confidence. She already had to sit here.. why not make the best of it and gather more information. “I never asked your name.” It was more of a statement than a question, her eyes returning to watch as it rewarded a mindful nod.
“Soyona. I’m not fond of nicknames, I’m afraid.” And yet there was a gentle lilt to the words, glancing up to study Yasmina occasionally before going right back to her sketching. Blocking out her still form with strokes of color across the canvas, method driving each patient stroke. “Do you like dinosaurs, Jazz?” Mindless smalltalk, to her. And yet she knew more than she let on, Soyona never fully allowing her gaze to leave Yasmina for long.
Taking in her demeanor, the way her eyes never seemed to hold her gaze for long without flitting quietly to the side almost in thought. “No.” The answer came quickly from her lips, stiff and tense. Yasmina hadn’t meant to say it so fast, wincing at her own tone with a soft apology slipping her lips when faced with a curious glance from the artist admiring her. “They.. don’t exactly have a good track record with me.”
Raising her amputated arm just for a moment to gesture with it, towards the scars— which brought attention to itself like it was meant to as well.
Soyona hummed in acknowledgment, some understanding maybe as she gave a small nod. “I see. I’m rather fond of them myself, but I suppose that could just be my fascination for the unknown.” And what she could control of it. Soyona didn’t linger on topics much, really seeming to be the one asking the questions since Yasmina had done the same. “You’re rather still, even for a muse. Have you done this before?” The space of the penthouse floor was filled with casual conversation, rather than remaining silent.
More at ease, almost too at ease for Yasmina’s comfort. Still, remaining unaware of how Soyona had moved to slowly push up the sleeve of her jacket and slid her hand up to her bracelet in a drawn out motion.
Yasmina shook her head slightly, humming in thought. “No, not really. I used to draw, and I know that it's easier to draw a still image sometimes, so I just assumed… Should I move?” Trying to not make this any more difficult than necessary.
She was already stuck here, she might as well not make it take any longer.
And yet she might have done just the opposite.
“A starving artist?” Soyona paused, her brush coming to a pause on the canvas as her interest was caught. Her eyes shifted immediately towards Yasmina, certainly looking captivated by the small slip. “I can’t say I couldn’t relate at one time. And no, what you’re doing now is just fine.”
She knew who Yasmina was from the start.. and yet not all of her lies seemed so fake after all. Soyona knew the tactic, and yet the truths had caught her eye openly. Something so small, that to her could mean far more. Soyona’s words alone had warranted a more complex reaction out of the woman across from her, who fidgeted a bit on the stool.
It was hard to see herself as any kind of an artist, really, much less accept the title.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Yasmina hesitated, frowning softly as she heard her own withdrawn tone. And yet she stayed sitting still despite the urge to move from her spot in the discomfort of her realization. “It’s been a while since I’ve really picked up any kind of pen, I guess you could say. I’m not much of an artist anymore.”
Soyona’s gaze had shifted down to Yasmina’s missing arm noticeably, humming slowly in understanding. “I see… And I suppose that’s your reason?”
Yasmina paused, following Soyona’s eyes and self consciously rubbing the amputated end of her other arm with a shake of her head as she entirely averted her gaze. If only that had been the case, maybe then she’d have a real excuse. “No, actually. It’s been.. almost six years since I’ve drawn anything at all. My arm was.. unrelated.” Soyona raised an eyebrow curiously as she’d continued to draw, slowly inching her hand away from her bracelet and sliding her jacket back over it.
The more honesty that slipped into the conversation, the more she found an interest in the woman sitting across from her.
Genuine curiosity fueling her.
“You are quite the complex one… But that’s not such a bad thing.” Soyona hummed, eyeing her portrait for a moment before glancing up. “Could you turn your head a little more to the left for me, Yaz? Tilt your head down just a tad more…”
Yasmina’s eyes seemed to shift in demeanor for a still moment, and yet followed the instructions with a trembling breath.
Calming herself, but from what? Soyona wasn’t so sure.
“Your ethnic features are quite stunning.. Have you always lived here in Dubai? Your Arabic isn’t perfect.. but your accent is quite spot on to be merely a foreigner.” Subtle, and yet Soyona was digging for more with a subtle interest.
Yasmina was less avoidant however, humming softly as she noticeably had started to forget her fingers against the flower pot in hand. “Not always. I was born in the states, my mom was from here, though. I don’t speak Arabic even half as easily as she does, clearly.” Yasmina scoffed softly, smiling subtly to herself.
Soyona shook her head, to Yasmina’s curiosity, the two making fleeting eye contact for a spare moment as Soyona found a rhythm in lining the figure she’d blocked out so finely on canvas. “No, you spoke it just fine. I have to apologize, I just found myself a bit surprised, is all. You just seemed so— American.” The way she dressed, really.. carried herself. And everything Soyona knew of her beforehand had pointed towards it.
And yet the distinct way she’d spoken the language had been such a pleasant surprise, one Soyona rather enjoyed if she were honest.
To hone multiple languages was not a skill many could have.
“You said you lived in the states before. Where did you say you lived specifically?” Soyona pressed, knowing very well Yasmina hadn’t mentioned it.
But Yasmina didn’t squirm like she’d expected at the question. Instead, it seemed she weighed the decision temporarily before agreeing with herself with a small nod. “Wyoming. It’s complicated, but.. I lived in a facility built to keep dinosaurs out. Veterans, families.. all sorts of people.” There were so few of them to exist despite the idea becoming so popular, Soyona’s eyes narrowing in thought. She was catching on that it was a little more than just a mindless slip.
That would be identifying information, something she doubted instantly would be handed over so easily.
“That’s quite.. personal information.” Soyona had to admit, she didn’t anticipate it. She knew everything about her, so just why was Yasmina being so honest with information that could so easily lead to her identity?
What was she playing at?
And so, Yasmina offered a subtle smile, tilting her head and meeting Soyona’s confused eyes. She was searching for what she was trying to pull, and yet her answer was so simple. “You already know who I am. There isn’t really a reason to pretend anymore.”
Soyona paused, her eyes widening subtly in surprise. Only, the second she processed it, she allowed a smile to curve her lips slowly with a low chuckle. A fair point. “I see. What gave it away, if I may ask?” She’d openly turned away from her artwork in favor of giving Yasmina her undivided attention, her leg crossing slowly over the other with a calm yet curious look.
Yasmina shrugged her shoulders, but her smile had hinted at some measure of amused confidence. “You called me Yaz. When you told me to turn.”
…
Thinking back, Soyona almost couldn’t recall the slip, and yet still accepted it with a thoughtful hum. She could instantly see why, comparing the names in her mind and noting the similarities. Purposeful, looking back. “So I did.” Her pointer finger tapped against the paintbrush in hand, rather pleasantly surprised by this whole turn out. Yasmina was a character she hadn’t anticipated to enter her game. “It was clever. Using a name so close to your own.” So that if she knew, one small slip up was all it took to reveal her knowledge.
She played her cards just right.
Yasmina nodded, though hiding the unease rising in her chest. Now they both knew the other knew who they were, and there was no hiding it. So what now?
“I knew who I was dealing with. I took my time tracking you down, it would be a waste to pretend too long.” Soyona was clearly as smart as she’d originally feared, having doubled back the second she knew for sure that Yasmina had entered her penthouse.
Here they sat even still, neither seeming in much of a rush to move.
“You’re bold to admit such a feat… I can’t say I don’t admire it. I’ve been watching you across the way myself.” Soyona wasn’t so put off, more intrigued than anything. Visually, untouchable. “Very few have ever caught onto what I do. None were able to track me down— let alone find me— and live to tell the tale. And yet here you are.. alone at that.” Soyona saw Yasmina’s expression twist indiscernibly, frowning softly as she glanced aside. “Your friends are making trouble for me, and you just so happen to find yourself watching my every move and break into my building? Color me.. intrigued.”
Yasmina was quiet, tapping her heel against the rung of the stool as she avoided the gaze that never left her. Feeding off of her every reaction for a clue. “They were my friends.” Yasmina felt cold saying it, the image of Sammy in the back of her mind as she spoke. How things could change so quickly, and come crashing down on top of her. “But it gets to a point.. that you can't even recognize the people you were meant to trust. Sometimes being underestimated is a good thing.. but others it’s— degrading.”
The hollow tone spoke so many words that never left Yasmina’s lips, eyes dimming subtly as she took a slow breath.
Soyona hummed slightly with a nod, setting her paintbrush down for a moment on the outcrop of the easel. “Truer words have never been spoken. But that begs the question, if you truly have no interest or connections with your friends… What is it that you want from me?” There was no ill intent that was made clear from how she spoke it, rather patient through her own growing interest. “You must need something, going through all of this trouble after you knew I was the one who called a hit on you.”
“I want to learn from you.” Yasmina went directly, seeing that despite having been found out so easily that Soyona didn’t seem ready to jump her despite knowing just who she was. She was doing something right, she hoped. “You stay out of trouble, and yet I’ve seen dinosaurs from all over the states being smuggled out of the country. You find time for hobbies, you’re held together, and you make a living surrounded by the creatures that could destroy the world. I want to learn everything you’re willing to teach me. I want to be in control of the thing I fear, for once.”
Soyona was thinking for sure, knowing very well that even allowing Yasmina near her work was a risk. But she heard such honesty in the sentiments, she had to admit she was being swayed toward this one. Not out of pity, but out of promise she could see in her.
It took skill to get this far, let alone actually come face to face with her.
“And I lied to you before.” Yasmina hesitated, and yet Soyona’s eyes shifted openly towards her with such curiosity as she hummed and waited for her to go on. “When I said I didn’t like dinosaurs. I do. I love them, actually. It’s just.. complicated.”
“A common theme with you, I see.” Soyona took a step back from her painting, admiring it and comparing it with thought before nodding in satisfaction. “You may stand. I think I’ve got everything I need out of you.” Yasmina stood obediently, though turned to set the flowering azaleas so carefully down on the stool before even trying to come to Soyona’s side.
It wasn’t a lie, she found that out immediately when faced with her own drawn figure. Yet, she didn’t meet her own eyes when she had, noticing how they’d been drawn unfocused, cast off to the side.. avoiding eye contact with the painter.
Every glance had been taken into account. Pain hidden under the surface coming up so clearly in how Soyona drew her features.
Yasmina frowned slightly, and yet the painting held a certain likeness that she couldn’t explain. How she felt, rather than how she appeared. “So, that’s it then?” Yasmina seemed so ready to just accept defeat on the outside, but on the inside? She knew she very well wouldn’t be leaving this penthouse, one way or another she wouldn’t be leaving if she wasn’t welcomed into the ranks.
Tense and aware.
Maybe that was what made Soyona’s smile shine that much more genuinely as her head turned to meet Yasmina’s.
“Quite the opposite, actually.. In fact I think with your skills you’d be a perfect asset to what I’m trying to do here. Hone them.” Once, Yasmina had been a world class athlete, she had the mental strength and decisive skills to find Soyona and track her down to her private apartment. Soyona knew she’d be a fool to turn Yasmina away, or let her walk away unscathed after this confrontation. She knew too much.
The expression she faced Yasmina with, however, was warm and almost welcoming despite her proper words. A subtle fondness, perhaps. “You’re a project I’d love to make a statement out of. I see myself in you.” Her arm, her scars.. Soyona saw no such weakness in them, resting a hand on Yasmina’s shoulder with a firm— yet soft hold that seemed to surprise her. Yasmina was wide-eyed, and yet didn’t pull away. “You’ve already proven to be strong and relentless. So for now, you can stay here with me. Staying over in that building must be rather unpleasant.”
Exposed to the elements, no real bedding.. it seemed less than comfortable. It was, too, judging by the slow exhale Yasmina let out with a nod before matching her smile after the shock ebbed away from her face. “I can’t say you’re wrong. Concrete really starts to kill your back after a few weeks…”
Soyona chuckled with a soft roll of her eyes, gesturing ahead with a hand. “I only have one room, but I think we can make it work. Come, let’s get it fixed to your liking.” Guiding Yasmina off, Soyona had the image of complete control in her mind. Should she change her mind, Soyona knew just what to do to rid herself of the woman.
But for now.. she let herself keep that interest, letting it grow openly.
Yasmina was a challenge to understand, and even more so to throw off of her trail.. and Soyona liked to imagine just what she could make of her.
More of a colleague, rather than an enemy…
