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“You toffs are all the same; you know that, right?”
Nell is sitting cross-legged on the ground, and her left knee is aching. She’d take a fight over this, honestly, but apparently she has to “sit still and be quiet” until Thomas shows up with a carriage, and some pointy-edged weapons, presumably.
Sofia Wilmot - former Lady of Broadwater and current honorary Lady of whatever part of the woods they’re in - is standing over her with a look that very much says please shut up.
Still, Nell quirks her head to the side, expectantly, and the gracious Lady Sofia dares to humour her.
“All the same, really?” She echoes. Then, through gritted teeth, “In what way?”
Nell smiles. “You’re all bloody annoying.”
Rationally, Nell knows that pissing off the person who has her held up probably isn’t the smartest play here, but it’s just so easy, with how quickly Sofia gets riled up.
The past few weeks on the run with Thomas must really be starting to get to her. Or maybe it’s just being with Thomas, full-stop, because Nell is pretty sure that would drive anyone mad. Either way, Sofia seems to have a much shorter temper than the other times Nell’s seen her, and a single crack of thunder sounds over them at Nell’s words.
Sofia’s gaze darkens with it. “You have the gall to call me annoying? As if you aren’t the source of all my strife.”
“Hey, lady, I’m the one who’s been kidnapped here. Pretty sure that makes you the source of my strife.”
“Oh, please—”
“—And, besides, it ain’t my fault your dick of a brother keeps gettin’ into enough trouble for the broth of ya. And it certainly ain’t my fault you got strung up in all this magic nonsense what messed up your lives. So, really, I think I’m pretty in the right here.”
A beat of silence. Nell half-expects the sky to fall then and there. Instead: “You’re the reason my father is dead.”
“Aye, you keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart.”
“Please, if you hadn’t shown up in our home the way you did that day, Thomas would never have… he… None of this would have happened.”
“As far as I remember, I ain’t the one who put the thought in Thomas’ head to pull that trigger. ‘Fact, I think it was me I told him to shoot at, now you mention it.”
“Because you’re some unnatural fiend who can catch bullets. Right.”
“Hey, nothin’ unnatural about fast reflexes, lady.”
“Somehow I think it’s more than just that.” Sofia glances down at Nell’s wrists, currently bound in rope. “Which begs the question, how come the great Devil Jackson can catch bullets and bend the bars of jail cells, but not break free from some old rope?”
The thing is, Sofia has dabbled in magic, Nell knows that. So Sofia is probably one of the only people who would believe her if she said that some strange little pixie man - non-corporeal at that - had been supplying her with her power. But the key words there are had been, because he isn’t here anymore, and Nell isn’t anything special righ now.
(The thought makes her stomach twist, not so much the futility of it all; but the fact that the loss still weighs so heavy against her, the memory more fresh than she’d like to admit.
Billy’s gone, and she’s just a woman tied up with no real way to get out).
She’s not planning on telling Sofia that part, though, because that would just make things a whole lot more awkward. And dangerous, probably, because that little edge of fear is the only thing she really has going for her right now, and she can only maintain that so long as Sofia thinks there’s something “unnatural” about her.
So, Nell does what Nell does best, and she prepares to play a game of bluff.
“I just didn’t want to embarass you.” She says, plainly.
Which, apparently, is the wrong thing to say, because Sofia suddenly looks like she wants to strike lightning down at Nell then and there. Or herself, maybe. Possibly them both.
“Embarrass me? You have done nothing but embarrass me since you first stepped foot in Broadwater. You are a vile, unnatural woman and all you ever seem to do is embarrass me and my family.”
“…Which is exactly why I didn’t want to now?”
“Lord give me strength.” Sofia pinches her brow, before moving to crouch down in front of Nell. “What’s your play here, Jackson?”
“Ain’t no play ma’am, I’m just taking in the scenery.” Nell meets Sofia’s gaze. “It was pretty nice, ‘till you shoved your face in the way.”
Sofia huffs out a breath, flustered. “And you’re trying to call me annoying, you arrogant little brat.”
“Least I’m not a stuck-up priss.”
“Insufferable too, are you aiming for all the unbearable traits?”
“If that’s the game we’re playing, sure.” Nell smirks. “But only if you play along too, ‘cause you’ve already got a few on the board yourself princess.”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t you even think about referencing the god-forsaken royal family around me.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, soft spot for the lady?”
“Don’t you even start.”
Nell leans back, as much as she can at least. She’s just a few inches too far from the tree behind her, but her back is stiff and her knee is really starting to throb now. She kind of wants to start, just for the fun of it, but she also kind of wants Sofia not to smite her.
She’s pretty sure Sofia isn’t actually going to kill her here, because apparently she needs something from her, has something big and special planned that involves going to wherever her and Thomas have taken up residency. A spell, then, probably. And Nell would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little nervous at the prospect of it all. She saw with Poynton and Thomas what magic can do to a person, and she feels ill at the thought that that could be her.
Better her than one of her sisters, she supposes. She’d gladly do it a thousand times if it could keep them safe.
Still, she’s nervous, and she’s starting to realise that she really overcompensates when that happens. And maybe that’s why she looks Lady Sofia Wilmot in the eyes, then and there, and says; “You’re just mad I wouldn’t tell the queen what a good girl you are.”
And then the air goes very still, suddenly, something heavy lingering in it. Something cold and hollow. And then—
Sofia slaps Nell across the face.
And Nell laughs.
“See, Wilmot? This is why all you toffs are so annoying. You talk with your actions, not your words. And then you get all mad when people don’t like it.”
“You are insufferable— you’re lucky I need you alive.”
“Luck, aye? You’ve a funny way of defining that. Though maybe it means something different for you toffs, you and all your fancy words.”
“You’re not even making any sense anymore.”
“You’ll have to forgive me, I think I hit my head when you ambushed me. Terribly sorry ma’am.”
Nell lolls her head to the side. There’s blood in her mouth, and the world is ever so slightly tilted on its axis around her. But she can see Sofia’s face, clearly, so full of unbridled rage. Intimidation, allegedly. Honestly, Nell finds it funny.
“You wanna know a secret?” She whispers.
Sofia doesn’t answer. She takes that as a yes.
“When I was a wee’on, I used to dream of being a lady, with a big ol’ house, and people waiting on my every need. I’d ‘ave horses, and one of ‘em fancy baths, and, oh, I always wanted one of those nice beds. You know the ones, with the silk curtains? Yeah, I fancied myself I’d have one of them.”
“Charming. Is there a point to this?”
“Yeah, hang on, I’m gettin’ there, sweetheart.” Nell leans in closer, a tired grin spreading across her face. “Thing is, I always wanted to be one of you toffs, ‘till I started to meet ya. Now, I’m glad I never became like any of you.”
“How dreadful. I’m so very hurt. You’ve practically defeated me.” Sofia scoffs, rolling her eyes.
Nell shrugs. “I just thought you ‘oughta know.”
“What? That you dislike me? Because I think you have gotten that across well-enough already.”
“Nah. Well, yeah, but more importantly - we ain’t the same, you and I. We never will be.”
“And?”
“And I jus’ think that’s funny.”
Nell laughs, soft at first and then billowing, a hearty laugh that bashes against her bruised ribs. She doesn’t stop, not when Sofia looks at her with something akin to horror, not when left knee cries out in a swell of pain. She only stops when Sofia turns away, fed up with her antics.
“You’re mad.” Sofia mutters. “You’re mad, Nell Jackson.”
“Well that makes two of us, then.”
Nell finally manages to lean back against the tree behind her, through all but slumping her body backwards. She’s tired, and the sky is darkening above them, and Thomas will be here soon, surely. Part of her hopes her sisters and Amadin - and Charles, maybe, if they’ve managed to drag him along - will show up before them. But they wouldn't know where to find her, even if they were looking, and she’d rather not wrap them up in all of this.
Sofia stays looking away, staring up at the sky. She doesn’t bother to grace Nell’s words with a response, instead curling in on herself as she lets them sink in. She is not mad, no, not as far as she’s concerned. She just… worn down. Jagged. There’s a difference there. Somewhere.
The sky continues to grow overcast above them, as neither woman has the energy to try and say anything more. They sit in silence, only broken by Nell’s occasional giggle to herself over something Sofia doesn't know. She wonders if this is a test, some great ploy to unravel her.
Or maybe, possibly, Sofia Wilmot is simply too short-tempered, and Nell Jackson is just a brat.