Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She’s just a bard.  

Sebille crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, eyes narrowed as she watched the scene unfold before her. A group of children surrounded Lohse, their eager faces looking up at her with nothing but pure adoration. 

The elf, however, looked on with disdain. She envied the kind of carefree innocence that these children possessed. Once she too had been a child, free from the shackles of her past… but then her childhood had been ripped away from her. Instead of laughter and joy, her early years had been filled with nothing but pain and suffering. A life of slavery and servitude, all thanks to the Master. 

Her innocence had been erased long before she could even begin to fully comprehend its loss.

It was alright though, she supposed. After all, she couldn’t change the past, and she had made peace with that, if nothing else. 

“Lohse, will you sing us a song?” One of the children asked, tugging at the ginger’s sleeve. Sebille was pulled from her train of thought as she heard the request, her eyes flicking over to Lohse with curiosity.  The musician seemed to hesitate a moment, her eyes darting around almost as if she were searching for an excuse to decline.

"Perhaps another day," she replied softly after a moment's pause, forcing a warm smile. "My throat is a bit sore right now."

“Huh,” Sebille murmured to herself. “How curious… a bard who can’t sing.”  What use was she  in a place like this? What about in Fort Joy? 

She won’t last a day there. Even the children have their uses, but her?

Disappointment flashed across their faces, but Lohse quickly swept it away with a bright, mischievous grin. "But, how about a story instead?" she suggested, much to the children’s delight.

She’s weak. Easily expendable. Just another tally mark on the Divine Order’s checklist... 

A small sigh escaped Sebille's lips as she watched Lohse's melodramatic storytelling and exaggerated gestures. It was as if she was performing for a crowd of nobles instead of a group of wide-eyed children. The elf despised being the center of attention, the center of his attention, but the bard enjoyed it. She relished in it. 

Lohse seemed to radiate a contagious energy, one that drew people in like moths to a flame, but Sebille? Why, she preferred the shadows and the quiet whispers of the wind. Solitude. That way, she could be alone. Alone with her thoughts . That was just the way it was. That was the way it had always been… but solitude was rather hard to find in a place like this, or so she’d discovered. 

The Lone Wolf (what had he said his name was? Ifan?) had been the first of the passengers she’d encountered. He’d been polite, but he was a Wolf. The lizard’s kind had enslaved her, but his had taken her from her home and slaughtered her people. They had starved her. Tortured her, and used her for their own… entertainment. 

She shivered at the memories of the cold, rusty chains that had held her in place, and the copper tang of her own blood as it filled her mouth.

Roost, he was wickedness come to life. In his mind, we were nothing but things that squeal delightfully when tortured and ravished… but soon, he’ll be the only thing squealing. 

The dwarf had been the next, and then the lizard. The way he looked, Gods, even the way he talked – all of it was a striking resemblance of her Master’s mannerisms. Even now she could see the red bastard in the kitchen, conversing with another of his kind. She’d heard stories about him when she was younger, from the other slaves in the Master’s household, but never before had she seen the fiend. Not in artwork, nor in the flesh. He was but a whisper on the wind, a figure used to scare children into behaving.

The House of War… oh how far it had fallen! Sebille chuckled, despite the circumstances. For years, it’d been her dream to see one of the Great Houses fall, to witness the downfall of those who had enslaved her people for generations. Now here the Red Prince was, in all of his glory, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his own house had crumbled before his eyes. It was poetic justice, she thought, as she watched him from the shadows. The irony of it all was not lost on her. 

He is as much a slave to the Magisters now as I was to his people. The thought warmed her a little. 

The set of dice in her pocket suddenly felt heavy, and Sebille’s lip curled up into a smirk.

Killing him would be too great a mercy, one he doesn’t deserve… so we’ll leave it up to fate, then.

The elf shook the pair of dice in her fist, preparing to roll them. One die was sleek and black, the other rough and worn, its numbers slightly faded. As the dice shifted in her palm, Sebille closed her eyes, whispering a silent prayer to the gods. "May Lady Luck favor me," she murmured, but just as she was about to release the dice, something slammed into her side, knocking her off balance. 

With a hiss of annoyance, Sebille stumbled, watching in frustration as the pair of dice slipped from her grasp and scattered across the floor. Instinctively, her hand shot down to where she kept her dagger strapped to her side, only to find it missing. 

“I’m really sorry, miss!” came a high-pitched voice from somewhere below her. Sebille looked down, her eyes narrowing at the sight of a young boy, no older than ten, frantically grabbing the ball of leather he’d been kicking around. His sandy blond hair was unkempt, and his clothes were tattered. The source collar around his neck was much too big for him, and hung at an awkward angle. The elf recognized him as one of the kids from Lohse’s little… fanclub. 

“Watch where you’re going,” she spat, flattening her ears. It wasn’t so much she was mad at the boy as she was at her own unawareness. How was it that she let someone, not to mention a child , sneak up on her? Nobody did that. Nobody caught her off-guard.

The boy quickly scrambled to his feet, clutching the leather ball close to his chest. “I-I’m sorry, miss. I was j-just playing. I didn’t see–”

“Finn!” A familiar voice interrupted the kid, who spun around in relief. Sebille shut her eyes at the sound of it, recognizing who it belonged to almost immediately. 

“What did I tell you about disturbing the other passengers?” Lohse gently scolded, stopping beside Sebille.

Passengers? Sebille almost laughed. Prisoners, more like.

“It was an accident, Miss Lohse! Honest…” The kid whined, darting to hide behind the ginger. He tucked his face into the folds of her dress, avoiding Sebille’s catlike glare. She didn’t mind that the child was scared of her, not really. Perhaps it was better that way. People she grew fond of didn’t tend to last very long.

Lohse glanced down at the boy, her expression softening. “I’m sure it was,” she soothed. “...but you still need to be careful. What if it’d been a Magister?” 

Finn hung his head, remaining silent. 

“You made a mistake,” Lohse gently pried the boy away from her and crouched down to his level. “Now, why don’t you apologize?” 

“Ok,” Finn whispered, reluctantly shuffling his feet against the ship deck. He quickly mumbled a quiet apology towards Sebille, one she didn’t exactly care all that much for, before darting back to hide behind Lohse, the ball clutched even tighter in his grasp.

“See? That wasn’t so hard!” The bard reached down to ruffle his hair. “Go back to the others and behave, okay? I don’t want to see you getting into any more trouble!”

The boy nodded, and with one last anxious glance at Sebille, he scurried off, disappearing among the other prisoners. 

Lohse smiled warmly after his retreating form before turning her attention back to Sebille. "Sorry about that," she said apologetically, her eyes bright. “Kids will be kids, right? Gods, am I glad for a break from them.”

"I wouldn't know," Sebille replied coolly, crossing her arms. 

“Right, I...” Lohse began, hesitating. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry.”

Sebille shrugged. "It's in the past. One I don't tend to dwell on," she responded, though her strained expression did not quite match her words.

"Yeah. Of course." Lohse cleared her throat, awkwardly glancing around in search of a new topic of conversation. That was when her eyes landed on... “Ah!” 

Sebille watched as Lohse reached down, gingerly picking up the pair of dice that lay forgotten at her feet. She held them out in her palm for Sebille to take. “What are they for?” 

“Deciding fates,” the elf answered simply, carefully retrieving the dice from Lohse’s outstretched hand. 

“Oh!” Lohse stared, her eyes widening slightly. “Whose fate are you deciding?”

“Don’t worry honey,” Sebille purred. “...it isn’t yours.” Her attention quickly returned to the dice in her hand as she inspected them for damage.

“But…” Lohse hesitated, causing the elf to look up. “...what if it was? Mine, I mean.” She asked, her eyes darting uncertainly between the dice and Sebille. 

Sebille raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Are you offering your fate to Lady Luck?" 

"I...," Lohse stuttered, looking unsure. After a moment, she took a deep breath and seemed to gain some resolve. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Sebille took a moment to process her statement before letting out an uncharacteristic chuckle. "Very well," she said, her gaze inscrutable. "Are you prepared to gamble your destiny away, then?" 

"Maybe... or maybe I'm just curious to see what all the future has in store for little ol’ me." Lohse’s confident grin returned. “Can’t hurt to wonder, right?” 

The corner of Sebille’s lip quirked upwards in a smile. "Let's see what all the dice have planned for you.” 

As the dice tumbled from Sebille’s hand and onto the lid of a nearby barrel, both women held their breaths. The dice landed silently, the dots pointed upwards displaying a set of numbers. 

“A seven,” Sebille spoke up, breaking the silence. "Considered a lucky number by some...."

“And by others?” The bard bit down on her lip.

Sebille allowed herself a small smirk. "Change. The end of one thing... and the start of another."

Lohse stared at the dice. "What does... um, what does that mean?"

"Well, honey," Sebille leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Lohse's face, "that depends on what the stakes were." She swore that she saw the bard’s face pale at her words.

“So,” Lohse tore her eyes away from the set of dice. “Do you leave everything up to chance?”

Sebille’s expression hardened. “No. Not everything… but the dice are unbiased. Unemotional. They fall as they may. Is that answer enough to your inquiry?” 

“Then you enjoy the uncertainty?” The other woman persisted.

Sebille held Lohse's gaze steadily, shadows flickering in her own eyes from a past she didn't like to dwell upon. "The uncertainty," She finally admitted, "gives me comfort in a world where I have had very little control."

Understanding dawned in Lohse's eyes and she nodded, falling silent.

“While the future may be uncertain,” Sebille continued, “I can still see the past quite clearly.” 

“How–” Before Lohse could finish, Sebille had grabbed her arm with a small smirk.

“I can read the past in flesh. One of the perks of being an elf, you see. I’m quite good at it too. I could lick your arm and tell you how you spent the night before last.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “...shall I?”

Lohse hesitated, but didn’t pull her arm away. After another moment, she gave a small nod of assent.

Sebille’s smirk widened as she brought Lohse’s arm closer. She bent her head, the tip of her sharp tongue tracing the curve of Lohse's bare forearm, eliciting a startled gasp from the bard.

Immediately, images flashed through her mind.

Darkness. Footsteps approaching, retreating. Blood. A figure, sitting near the entrance. Alert. Calculating. A rush of warmth. Curiosity. More movement. A shadow. A silent whisper… another figure. Something bigger. Something darker .

Lohse held her breath as she waited, her wide eyes fixed on Sebille. 

Sebille shuddered after a moment as the memories faded. Those weren’t all Lohse’s though, were they? There was something else…  

Pushing the thoughts down, the elf dipped her head and released Lohse’s arm.

“You were in a cellar with others Sourcerers,” Sebille started. “A dark, dank place – I remember it well. As everyone lay sleeping, you sat in the dark with wide, wakeful eyes, looking rather lovingly at… hah, me !”

Lohse’s cheeks flushed a bright red, and Sebille laughed again. “My, aren’t you a pretty cup full of sugar and spice?”

“I… uh, you know what? I think I actually hear the kids calling!” The bard stepped away, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. “But could you–”

“Darling, I can assure you, your secret is quite safe with me.” Sebille crossed her arms over her chest, a small smile growing. “I’m not one to lick and tell, believe me.”

“Right… right,” Lohse hurriedly nodded, her blush growing. The bard turned to go, then stopped after a moment and turned back around. “I’m afraid I never quite caught your name. I’m Lohse.”

Sebille hesitated, her smile faltering. She hadn’t been asked that in quite some time. Her name… Sebille. Was it even her own, or was it only another one of the so-called “gifts” her Master had so kindly bestowed upon her? Truth be told, she hated the sound of it. Sebille. Sebille the puppet. Sebille the slave. Sebille the murderer.  

Almost instinctively, she ran a hand down the length of her arm, tracing the countless names that marked her skin. Other elves, mostly. Her own kin. So many had died by her hand, but he’d be the last.

Sebille. 

She supposed that it would work… for now. This was the first step towards regaining her freedom after all, was it not? Reclaiming her name? 

“My name is Sebille.”  The name felt like a stranger's in her mouth. It had been so long since she had last uttered it, but reclaiming it, saying it out loud... it felt right.

The bard’s attention seemed to shift, her eyes going wide. “Sebille,” she tested out the name, a wide grin spreading across her features. “...it’s beautiful.”

The elf couldn’t help a small chuckle. Beautiful? She hadn’t thought about her own name in that way for a long time. 

It was beautiful, she decided, when it came from her own mouth. As beautiful as her newfound freedom.

“I-I’m sorry,” Lohse startled after a moment, as if she hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “I didn’t mean- well, I did but not in- not in a weird way, or anything if that’s what-”

“Relax, Lohse,” Sebille purred. “I know what you meant.”

“I’ll be here all day,” Lohse joked, her blush only deepening.

“As will we all, dear.” Sebille drew her gaze away, offering Lohse a chance to recover. 

“Sebille,” Lohse repeated the name after a moment with a firm nod. “Would it be too soon to say I hope to see you again? Preferably without the company of a lot of whiny children?”

“Only time will tell.” In truth, the bard had piqued Sebille’s interest. Not a lot, but it was more than what most people got. 

“Well, I’d better be off now!” Lohse nodded a farewell. “Don’t want to keep the little ones waiting. Who knows what trouble they could be getting themselves into?”

Sebille didn’t respond, watching as Lohse’s figure vanished amongst the crowd. The taste of the bard still lingered on her tongue, a curious mixture of sweet and spice. She couldn't deny the allure of the bard's charismatic nature, but she couldn’t allow it to distract her from her goals either. 

With a small sigh, Sebille picked the set of dice back up and continued to roll. 

Chapter Text

Sebille could still remember the first time she saw herself. Really saw herself, stripped of everything that made her, well, her .

She’d been taken out one night. Out beyond the confines of her room, out beyond the tall, golden walls of the empire. Outside. The Master hadn’t spoken, hadn’t hummed her song… he hadn’t needed to. He’d pointed to the box, and Sebille had obeyed.

After all, what other choice had she had?

The air outside had been cool, crisp. It had burned her lungs as she first breathed it in, and she had held it in her chest, unwilling to let it go. When the cover had been removed and her eyes had adjusted, she’d seen the night sky for the first time, and she’d gawked at its beauty. 

“Sebille,” the Master had interrupted, beckoning her forward. “Tell me, what is it that you see ? What is it that you feel ?” 

She’d crawled from her cage and straightened herself in front of him, blinking rapidly as her eyes fought to adjust. “I see… the sky. The moon, and the stars. They’re… they’re beautiful, ” she’d breathed, admiring the way the light glimmered off of the lizard’s armor. “I… I feel… free. ” 

She hadn’t even realized the thought had crossed her mind before she’d spoken it aloud, but why couldn’t she be free? She was smaller than the Master. Quicker, too. If she started now, maybe-

“Sebille,” he repeated her name, and her head snapped around. “What are you thinking about?”

“I-”

“What are you really thinking about?” He began to hum an all too familiar tune, one that Sebille was powerless to stop. It wasn’t long before she felt her senses grow dull and her limbs grow heavy. The mark on her cheek pulsed as his voice wrapped around her heart, imprisoning her. 

“I was thinking about running away,” she confessed, hanging her head.

“I see,” he cooed, gently lifting her chin with a claw. “And pray tell, how did you expect to do that?” 

“I’m smaller than you. I’m faster, too. I could outrun you. I could-”

“...but you won’t.” He interrupted her, smiling knowingly. “You won’t because you have nowhere to return to. Nowhere to call home, nobody waiting for you… I’m all you have. I’m the only one in all the world who cares for you, Sebille. You need me, because without me, you are nothing.” 

A single tear slid down her cheek, but she didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t . He was right. She belonged to him . She was his.

He reached forward, gently wiping away her tear. “Don’t cry, my dear. I have a gift for you.”

Reaching into his satchel, the lizard removed a small dagger. Sebille’s dull eyes followed the rays of moonlight that danced across its surface as she awaited instruction. 

“Sebille,” he started, holding the dagger up between his claws. “This needle was forged in an altogether different world. It wasn’t wrought upon a cruel anvil, hammered into shape with rough blows. No, it was cast with demon precision. It is absolutely priceless, and it’s yours. ” He took her hand in his own, setting the needle in her palm. 

“Now, there’s something I need you to do for me,” he leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper. “ Xen. A scholar. She resides in a small elven encampment, just North of here.”

Sebille listened intently, staring at the needle in her hand. 

Xen. The name repeated over and over again in her mind, like a broken record. The name sounded oddly… familiar, but she couldn’t place it. 

“I need you to take care of her.” Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down Sebille’s spine.

“Take care of her?” The voice that came from between them barely resembled her own. She hated it. 

“Kill her,” the lizard repeated with a swish of his tail. “Bleed her dry. Gut her like the pig that she is!” His voice rose in volume, and Sebille flinched away, nearly dropping the needle. He’d taught her over twenty different ways to kill people. Twelve to prolong suffering, four to loosen tongues, but only a few of her methods were relatively painless. Relatively.  

After a moment, he regained his usual composure, tail stilling to a halt. He drew her in closer still, his breath hot against her ear. “Sebille. Do you understand your mission?”

“I do,” she replied, her body trembling under his touch. 

“Good,” he hummed, straightening himself. “Now go. ”

-

…and that was how she found herself standing over a pond, glaring at her own reflection. The Master’s voice was fainter now, and she could feel her own mind beginning to return to her.

Xen. Xen. Xen. She hadn’t even stood a chance … her needle had struck true, if not clumsily, and sealed the elven scholar’s fate long before Sebille had even fully realized what was happening. Her blood stained Sebille’s hands, her needle, her clothes… and the coppery tang of it overwhelmed her senses, making her sick.

Shakily, Sebille crouched down, dipping her trembling hands into the pond. The water ran red with blood, mingling with the reflection of the moon above. She scrubbed her hands frantically, trying to rid herself of the stain, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, the blood remained. It seemed to seep into her very being, staining not just her hands but her soul . 

Tears welled up in Sebille’s eyes, clouding her vision as a plethora of emotion erupted within her. She was a monster . He’d made her into a monster .

Tir-Cendelius, forgive me.

Taking a deep breath, Sebille pulled her hands out of the water, her reflection still tainted in the crimson hue. Her eyes bore into her own gaze, searching for answers, searching for herself...

As the moon illuminated her face, Sebille saw it. She saw the scar. She ran a hand over it, tracing the pattern that had been carved into her flesh. They’d marked her. Branded her. Claimed her. 

From then on, she’d avoided bodies of still water while on the hunt.

-

Stingtail. Stingtail. 

The lizard’s name repeated over and over again in her head, like a broken record. As she watched the fiend sleep, her finger traced the ridges of the familiar name carved into her arm. The scar was older than most, faded after years of enslavement under the other scar that marked her cheek. His scar. Roost had taken her, he’d created the scar, and the Master? Well, hi s time was almost up.

Stingtail.

It would be so easy to just… finish him off. Right here, right now, while he slept. While he was defenseless. So incredibly easy… but that wasn’t what she wanted. No, she wanted him to suffer as she had . She wanted him to look her in the eyes and know what he did to her as she sliced him open from head to toe with nothing but her needle. Then, she’d string his insides out and leave them up for the Voidwoken to feast on.

A low whistle rang out behind her, startling her from her thoughts. “So, what’s a girl have to do to earn that stare?” 

Immediately, Sebille spun around with the flash of a needle, arms wrapping tightly around the neck of her victim, locking them in a chokehold.

Her first instinct was reproach, for letting herself be caught off guard. Again . Her second was surprise. It looked like she wasn’t the only survivor of the Merryweather wreckage after all… a pity.

“You caught me off-guard. Nobody catches me off-guard!” Sebille spat, pushing her needle uncomfortably against the soft skin of the bard’s neck. “Who are you, really ?” 

“I’m sorry,” Lohse was quick to apologize, her face flushing a bright red. “It wasn’t my intention to startle you! Truly. We met on the ship, remember? You were the one rolling the dice, deciding fates and what-not… I was the one with the hoard of gremlin children hanging on my every word… not my best crowd, admittedly. I was just-”

A push, a pivot, and Lohse was face to face with Sebille.

“Woah,” the ginger breathed out, eyes wide. Her gaze landed on Sebille’s scar, mapping it out. “What… what happened?” 

Sebille didn’t respond, her breath rough and ragged as she examined Lohse’s features. There wasn’t a single hint of malice in the bard’s dark gray eyes, only… curiosity. Concern. Her first instinct, as always, was to distrust, to assume that Lohse was just another threat, another obstacle standing in the way of her vengeance… but something about the bard's genuine concern, her open curiosity, caused a flicker of doubt to enter Sebille's mind.

After a moment, Sebille released her grip on Lohse and took a step back. She lowered her needle but kept it firmly in her hand, ready to strike at any moment if needed. Her eyes bore into Lohse's own, searching for something, perhaps a hint of recognition or a trace of malice… but she found nothing of the sort. 

“That’s none of your concern,” she finally responded, her voice cold and guarded. “It doesn’t matter what happened to me. What matters is what I’m going to do to him .” She nodded towards the sleeping figure in the small makeshift camp below them.  “...but, you did see me mark my prey. You could warn him, save him, or kill him before I get my chance. That makes you a liability. That makes you needle feed. ”

“I could warn him, you’re right,” Lohse responded, her eyes twinkling. “But, as much as I love playing the hero, I think I’d rather see how this plays out. I mean, who am I to ruin a girl’s perfectly dramatic revenge plot? And from what I’ve gathered, this lizard fellow isn’t exactly a saint…” Lohse’s smile widened, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Besides, who said I don’t have my own scores to settle?”

Sebille raised an eyebrow, rather intrigued by Lohse's response. “...and why should I trust you? Why should I not gut you where you stand?”  

“How about, instead of killing me, you join me?” The offer came as a shock to Sebille, who laughed it off.

“Join you?” Sebille laughed. She couldn’t help but be skeptical of the offer. After everything that she had done to get here, to gain her freedom , was she really ready to give it up in exchange for… what? The company of a party bard? She didn’t need anyone. She never had before, so why would she now?   

“Make your case then, bard, and quickly. Why should I join you?” Sebille wasn’t entirely sure what had constituted her giving the woman a chance, but there was strength in numbers. Still, she’d keep her guard up. She wouldn’t be caught without it– not again. 

“I don’t expect to stay here much longer, and I bet you don’t either. I’m planning my escape, and I think we could help each other do just that. Plus, having someone to watch your back couldn’t hurt either, right?” 

“Escape? Most of the misguided dears around here would argue that such a thing is impossible.” Sebille was no fool. She’d heard the stories about this place, seen firsthand what they did to people here… sourcerers. People like her . She’d escaped captivity, imprisonment before though, and she intended to do so again.

“I did save you back on that ship,” Lohse pointed out, crossing her arms. A small smirk played on her face. “I wouldn’t say the odds were too great back then either, but hey, we still overcame them, didn’t we?”

“It seems that you did,” Sebille conceded. “Well played, but don’t think that I owe you anything for your… heroics.”

“You don’t,” Lohse assured, bouncing slightly with anticipation. “It was the right thing to do, is all.”

“So you say,” Sebille twirled her needle, examining it. “Oh, little needle mine, what should I do? Mmm… the agony of choice.” She considered Lohse's words for a moment. The idea of joining forces with someone was new to her, and it went against every instinct she had developed to survive in this cruel world. Relying on someone, trusting them… it was practically the equivalent of begging them to stab you in the back with a needle of their own. But… she had to admit that Lohse did have a point. It was true that she needed allies, especially  if she wanted to take down Roost and the Master and whoever else stood in the way of her gaining her long awaited freedom. 

"I'm not going to trust you blindly," Sebille warned, her voice low and cautious. "But if you truly mean what you say, then we may have a common goal. Just know that if you betray me, if you get in my way, I won't hesitate to slit your throat whilst you sleep."

Lohse's smile widened, her eyes shimmering with excitement. "Deal," she replied, extending a hand towards Sebille, who hesitated for a moment before shaking it.

“A deal it is then, provided that we have a talk with that lizard I mentioned earlier.” Sebille held Lohse’s hand for a moment longer than she’d meant to, her eyes flickering between the bard and the sleeping lizard below. She could sense that Lohse wasn’t being completely truthful, that there was more to her story than met the eye. There was something beneath the bard’s undeniable curiosity and enthusiasm… something dark. Something dangerous. 

Something that maybe Lohse herself wasn’t even aware of.

“That’s fine with me, chief!” 

“Then lead on… or better yet, let me take the lead. My needle could use a good sharpening…” 

She wouldn’t kill Stingtail. Not yet. Instead, she’d bide her time, wait for an opening… and then, when he least expected it, her needle would strike.