Tessa- Will
Tessa pushed the carriage curtains aside. Outside she could see the gaslights going by in a yellow blur; two children were slumped in a doorway, leaning against each other, asleep. Temple Bar flew by overhead.
“Have you ever thought of transforming yourself into one of your parents?” Will asked. “Your mother, or father? It would give you access to their memories, wouldn’t it?”
She turned to look at him. “I have thought of it. Of course I have. But I have nothing of my father’s or mother’s. Everything that was packed in my trunks for the voyage here was discarded by the Dark Sisters.”
“What about your angel necklace?” Will asked. “Wasn’t that your mother’s?”
Tessa shook her head. “I tried. I — I could reach nothing of her in it. It has been mine so long, I think, that what made it hers has evaporated, like water.”
Will’s eyes were dark blue in the shadows. “Perhaps you are a clockwork girl. Perhaps Mortmain’s warlock father built you, and now Mortmain seeks the secret of how to create such a perfect facsimile of life when all he can build are hideous monstrosities. Perhaps all that beats beneath your chest is a heart made of metal.”
Tessa drew in a breath, feeling momentarily dizzy. His soft voice was so convincing, and yet — “No,” she said, sharply. “You forget, I remember my childhood. Mechanical creatures do not change or grow. Nor would that explain my ability.”
“I know,” said Will, with a grin that flashed white in the darkness. “I only wanted to see if I could convince *you*.”
Tessa looked at him steadily. “I am not the one of us who has no heart.”
It was too dim in the carriage for her to tell, but she sensed that he had flushed, as he did when startled or upset, across the tops of his cheekbones. To her surprise, he reached out a gloved hand for her. It just brushed the edges of her curls, the kid leather smooth against her cheek — and the carriage wheels came to a jerking halt. They had arrived.
“Have you ever thought of transforming yourself into one of your parents?” Will asked. “Your mother, or father? It would give you access to their memories, wouldn’t it?”
She turned to look at him. “I have thought of it. Of course I have. But I have nothing of my father’s or mother’s. Everything that was packed in my trunks for the voyage here was discarded by the Dark Sisters.”
“What about your angel necklace?” Will asked. “Wasn’t that your mother’s?”
Tessa shook her head. “I tried. I — I could reach nothing of her in it. It has been mine so long, I think, that what made it hers has evaporated, like water.”
Will’s eyes were dark blue in the shadows. “Perhaps you are a clockwork girl. Perhaps Mortmain’s warlock father built you, and now Mortmain seeks the secret of how to create such a perfect facsimile of life when all he can build are hideous monstrosities. Perhaps all that beats beneath your chest is a heart made of metal.”
Tessa drew in a breath, feeling momentarily dizzy. His soft voice was so convincing, and yet — “No,” she said, sharply. “You forget, I remember my childhood. Mechanical creatures do not change or grow. Nor would that explain my ability.”
“I know,” said Will, with a grin that flashed white in the darkness. “I only wanted to see if I could convince *you*.”
Tessa looked at him steadily. “I am not the one of us who has no heart.”
It was too dim in the carriage for her to tell, but she sensed that he had flushed, as he did when startled or upset, across the tops of his cheekbones. To her surprise, he reached out a gloved hand for her. It just brushed the edges of her curls, the kid leather smooth against her cheek — and the carriage wheels came to a jerking halt. They had arrived.
Source_ C'sTwishort
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