Ivonne
The name lingered in Yue's mind like a challenge issued in a whisper. Her eyes drifted to the door of the private chamber, hair caught in loose strands at her nape. She had just closed her eyes for a moment when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Not a light touch but firm and cold, the kind of touch that belonged to someone used to gripping a sword's hilt.
Ivonne was standing behind her.
Yue kept quiet, her spine stiffening. She didn't turn around, but she felt the weight of Ivonne's presence pressing into the cramped space. The scent of salt water and ash lingered in the air. It was suffocating, Yue wanted to run away and vomit but was frozen.
"You want something."
Ivonne did not speak. Instead, she moved forward, stepping into view with that brutal grace that made hunters unsteady. Six feet one inch, Skin and muscle that were carved in battle. The sleeves of Ivonne's jacket pulled back to her elbow only to reveal a network of scars winding across her forearms like carved ruins. One of her ribs had a jagged scrape that still looked fresh. She wore a simple mask, silver-edged, covering everything on her face, but somehow that stormy gaze was still visible to Yue.
Her gaze met Yue's for a long, unreadable second.
Yue swallowed. Blood pounded in her ears. Her breath caught. She wanted to stand up, embrace Ivonne, bury her face in her neck and pepper her with kisses until her heart broke. She also wanted to run into the farthest corner of the boutique and never return. Conflicting impulses warred in her veins.
Ivonne finally broke the silence. This was not a welcome. Not a greeting. Not even a negotiation…It was cruel.
"You have ten minutes to fit me. Not to talk. Not to ask questions. Fit me."
Yue didn't flinch, didn't react right away, didn't give Ivonne the satisfaction of seeing the small tremor that had started behind her ribs.
Instead, she turned her head slowly, just enough for a strand of ink-black hair to fall across her cheek. Her mouth curled into something sharp, something that might've been called a smile if it didn't look like a knife waiting to kill. Her expression was made of lacquered silence, practiced cruelty stitched over longing.
She met Ivonne's gaze without hesitation this time.
"Take your clothes off."
The words dripped from her mouth like poison disguised as perfume. Her tone was dry, disinterested, with just enough bite to imply she wasn't impressed by the dramatics. If Ivonne was going to pretend this was just another job, then Yue could pretend she didn't care who was behind the mask as much as she did.
Ivonne didn't move for a moment. Her expression unreadable beneath the silver edges of that mask, but her fingers flexed slightly, knuckles whitening.
Yue saw it. Her sharp amber eyes bobbed up and down Ivonne's body, trying her best not to stare.
She stepped toward the workbench, turning her back with the kind of theatrical dismissal she'd perfected over years of being desired and disrespected by the best and worst kinds of hunters. Her heels clicked against the carpeted flooring, and her voice followed behind her like smoke.
"Well? Or do you need help?" she said, grabbing the hydrascale and laying it flat with "care" that felt more like violence.
There was a pause. Heavy. Then the soft rustle of fabric.
Yue snaps her head down to the floor.
She wouldn't give in to the temptation, no matter how much her hands itched to reach out and trace her scars, which were littered on her body like constellations. No matter how much her body remembered the weight of hers. The cut of her muscles. The warmth that was no longer felt.
The first time she'd touched Ivonne had been to stop the bleeding. Now, all she wanted was to make it start again. To see Ivonne's breath hitch and to see salt water dripping down her eyes instead of her fingers.
"You wouldn't dare to." A muffled voice said flatly at the back of her head. It was oddly cheery.. That sultry, teasing tone. Yue would recognize that anytime, how could she forget when it was Ivonne's voice that teased her. How could she forget when it was Ivonne who lulled her to sleep during the worst of migraines? How could she-
"Are you going to take my measurements by staring at the floor?"
Yue slowly turned. Finally. She approached with a tailor's hands but a lover's caution, as if afraid to touch and even more afraid not to.
"Arms up," she muttered.
Ivonne nodded like a puppy and, within a flash, obeyed.
Yue moved close, close enough to feel her breath. Her fingers worked swiftly, professionally. Measurements. Angles. Spine, collarbone, Breast. She was careful not to linger. But it didn't really matter. Her hands remembered much enough.
Ivonne's skin was cold from the walk, but her heartbeat was steady. Too steady. It made Yue hate her a little, and her fiery gaze dimmed.
"You've lost muscle mass," Yue said coolly, writing something down. "Didn't think you were capable of shrinking."
Ivonne said nothing.
"Let me guess," Yue continued, circling her, voice low, edged with venom. "You survived a slaughter, again. Got bored and thought, hm, whose life haven't I ruined in a while?"
Still silence.
Yue's eyes narrowed. Her hands stilled.
"Are you mute now, or just allergic to explaining yourself just because you're top 1 hunter now?"
Ivonne finally tilted her head. The motion was almost lazy. She looked at Yue like one might look at a particularly sharp dagger left in an old wound.
"You're still dramatic," she said. Voice like gravel, yet to Yue it felt like soft velvet.
"Asshole."
"That's enough," she muttered. "I have what I need."
Ivonne's arms lowered slowly, brushing against Yue's waist. She didn't dress, she didn't leave. She just stood there, half-bare, eyes boring into Yue's back as the five feet 8 inched figure returned to her tools.
The silence stretched, too full and too suffocating.
"I'm only here for the armor," Ivonne said breathily, at last.
Yue's hand paused mid-cut.
"Of course you are," she murmured.