Sawtooth Spire a silver whisper, take flight and steal into my mouth

he called her a liar and it was true. she was a liar in so many ways. she felt things, but anger mostly, and often, and most recently especially towards him. she'd given him so many opportunities to walk away, and he rejected that opportunity at every turn despite her unchanging sentiments. her mother brought that anger to surface most masterfully, although the woman deserved maybe only quarter of it for the wrongs she'd done by her daughter in the short time she had her under lock and key. 

"oh, spare me the—" she replied flippantly, but he'd already started dissecting her psyche with his fumbly, dilettante hands. be careful where you put that knife, sir, but esme let him vent his feelings with distrait patience. he was correct on a number of things, once he became less hitchthroated and more accusatory, but she wouldn't give him a cookie for hitting a mark or two on a stationary target.

esme started to formulate her own psychological profile of him, but mentally did away with it once she realized she'd already done that once before and it was too boring a task to endure twice. she huffed with growing disinterest and stared down her nose at his talking head. "oh yes, a pawn," she edged in with an incredulous air; if he was a pawn, he was a willing one. she never sought him out to play on his emotions, it always came back to riley seeking her out (stalking, really), simpering and imploring her attention. and she gave it to him, perhaps not always in ways he was desirious of, but esme refused his victim plancard with scarce a glance. 

she found it passing strange how deeply offended he was becoming, and pooched her lips with theories of her own howling dervishes in her mind. when he finally started to stutter-speak again, esme cleared her throat. "do you feel better now? or do you feel stupid?" she wondered, setting her head at an angle of scrutiny. she squinted her eyes and then straightened her posture again. "hm. i'm not sure you even know which direction you want to go in." she said.

"you say you're a pawn, but i've never used you to my advantage," she swept down from the scarp, away from impending divine judgement, and drew towards him thoughtfully, "but as it has been recently brought to my attention that i am a cunt ... well, what am i to know? except that you've been so utterly disadvantageous to me that i've walked away twice ... or has it been three times? i suppose it's besides the point. or, perhaps not," all of her present annoyance was distilled to her tailtip, which twitched nonstop, but her voice was tulle: light, crystalline, and thrown over a silk vesture that kept her modest despite all else its transparency revealed. 

"perhaps step out of my way, if i hurt everyone around me. stop trying to be there and stop trying to wedge me into your idea of how a woman should behave when you know nothing about her or her phantoms." she very nearly lost her composure in want of a snarl to punctuate her words, but it only rose as a grizzle in the back of her throat.

the lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch.

"and you call me a liar? you're lying to me in a single breath, very bold of you, saying you don't care but 'wanting to be there for me'? what does 'being there' look like to you? i don't think you even know, because no one's ever 'been there' for you." esme yanked the table around, so very forceful. if he would presume to know her, she would mimic that too. "have you ever heard the word projection before? you're doing a lot of it. someone has hurt you, and it's not me, in fact ... " vehement denial, whether or not it was true. she had given him consent of her time, of her body, and he threw it in her face. she clenched her teeth behind firm lips; a muscle leapt in her cheek. "i believe we've touched that nerve before."

"was it your father, mm?" she gave his face a lingering look, waiting for any nuance she could check. "your mother? is that why you follow me like i am yours, argue that i treat you such as i would a child? i beg your pardon, i would never let a child do to me what you tried and failed to do." the implication made her want to bite his nose off, but she held the violent tic in abeyance. why did she give him so much clemency? 

"so, who then? who was it?"