Despite how unnerved the woman looked, Ophelia was still eating. Anne watched her subtly, wondering what she had gotten herself into. She was hired to murder a man, but would she even get past his nutcase of a wife? But it wasn't like that, Anne realized, and she scolded herself for the thought. Ophelia was spirited, but she was prevented from showing that passion to anyone. I scared everyone. The childlike tone to her voice, a little girl in trouble; Anne couldn't help but feel sorry for her. There was more than she was letting on, and while Anne wanted to learn of this woman's affinity for blades, she knew the time was not now.
Ophelia questioned Anne, and the assassin for a moment didn't answer. She just looked over Ophelia, at the imperceptible quiver of her shoulders, the drying trails on her cheek. Was this a good idea? Finally, Anne shifted so that she could easily pull her blade from its holster without slicing herself. She held the blade firmly, a hand in its basket-shaped guard and another supporting the curved blade. "Like them," she mused quietly. "I was made for them."
In the next moment, Anne was offering the blade to Ophelia, against her better judgment. What's the worst that could happen? she asked herself. Even if Ophelia did lash out, Anne could easily grab the kid and bolt out of there before she could manage any real harm. The girl just needed a chance, Anne thought, and what better way to get closer to her than to give her one? "We call that one a cutlass," she explained, "because of how short it is, its curved blade, and its intricate handle. It's a seafaring weapon, known for its close range and its ability to cut through rope." She was watching Ophelia as she spoke, speaking gently so as not to startle her. She seemed like a different person with a blade in her hands, and Anne couldn't know what to expect. "I believe it's important to know a bit about a blade before you wield it. Knowing what it is made for can help you become closer to your weapon."
A stray glance met Milo, who seemed to be having enough fun with the grass around him. Anne wondered what lay beneath this picture perfect family, after all. A father with a bounty, a mother with a weapon obsession, a nameless blank slate; just how much would Anne ruin by the time she was finished?
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