There was a good deal of irony in the judgments Kira held towards this stranger. Outside of how similar they looked, which was an uncanny thought for another time, they were both creatures of bad circumstances. Both broken in some way. The defining difference between both girls was how they had learned to cope in ways that didn't allow either to heal. Vhalla had learned to meet the world with an attitude and anger as volatile as a blazing forest fire. It was a defense mechanism that was perhaps more troublesome than productive, the constant engaging in fights and arguments. She'd also found comfort in alcohol until she was almost entirely dependent, the burning sensation down her throat and the warmth that enveloped her mind and body; the less sober she was, the less she had to deal with any of her issues. Kira was the polar opposite, a different extreme in unhealthy coping mechanisms. The Were met the world with a cold indifference, keeping people away with an icy gaze and frostbitten words. It was as though she had iced out any good thing about her, leaving only thistle and weeds left to grow in the barren wasteland she'd created out of herself. She found it simpler to deal with the cold loneliness than to show even the smallest amount of vulnerability, fighting one of her most base instincts as a Were to keep people away. However these ice and fire attitudes both boiled down to one common denominator: trauma. They were two sides of the same coin.
Perhaps if Kira could overlook, even for the briefest of moments, their sheer differences, she might be able to muster even the smallest amount of sympathy to the woman now collapsed before her. Yet she can't, it instead causes her great irritation. To get so drunk that you become a nuisance, to have released all of your control to that toxic brew. She held particular contempt for alcohol despite her russian heritage, seen first hand the way it twisted people. How often she had smelt it on her captors' breaths as they beat her. It was a drink for cowards, a nasty, vile thing. Watching the other woman fall victim to it, collapsing in a heaving mess, only furthered her disgust. It was a pitiful display. For how far Kira had sunk herself, she had never let herself get this low. The worst part was how desperately the witch clung to any sense of pride then, firing back comments with a sharp refusal to acknowledge how she'd mocked someone with a disability. Perhaps the Were should have just cut her loses and removed herself from this infuriating confrontation, and yet she can't. Her own sense of pride leaves her tethered in place, unwilling to offer this woman even an inch of the space she was trying to steal.
There is momentary satisfaction that vhalla has no retort back about her mocking, instead a wave of guilt seems to finally set in past any barrier of pride the woman was clinging on to despite her current drunken state. Kira does not express this feeling though, her body language and facial features conveying nothing but the clearest signs of annoyance. How quick the witch is then to irritate her further, any of that satisfaction from moments before completely washed away. The woman is so incredibly stubborn, using sarcasm to paint herself the good guy in this confrontation. "Yes, usually from children i'm sure," she retorts without missing a single beat, those icy words smooth and her signs equally as fluid. It was usually children that went around boasting their greatness frequently, the act incredibly childish when used in any other context other than joking around. If someone was truly awesome, they didn't need to go around telling everyone.
It's a shame that Kira misses the half assed apology due to Vhalla turning from her. Her frown deepens with her irritation as she takes that step closer, desperate to try and pick up the words though it is too little too late. How clueless did you have to be to turn from someone you assumed to be deaf? If she hadn't realized by then her partial deafness, the next obvious conclusion to draw was that the Russian woman had been reading lips. Maybe she had done it on purpose, though perhaps not as anger seems to fill her features when she turns back around. It was really a toss up, on whether this stranger was just that clueless or just that cruel. Kira has little time to ponder this, almost humorous, though as the woman is now putting the spotlight onto her, asking about her telepathy. She hesitates then, cursing herself for the obvious momentary lapse. If only she had been able to smoothly reply, she doubted it would spark any suspicion in the other woman. Blue eyes can see the tension then in the Witch, her answer clearly not satisfactory. The last thing she wanted was to upset the woman, or make her think she was some kind of threat outside of sarcastic comments. Kira did not desire to see that fire magic she had seen not long ago now used on her.
The silence is deafening then, an ironic statement from a deaf woman. The tension was painted thick, and for a moment neither seemed to want to shatter it. And then the question is asked, the hesitation in it obvious. Kira shrugs nonchalantly then, her best bet was to just act indifferent. In a split second decision, she had to decide whether to lie or tell the truth, and the longer it took her to answer the worse she looked. "If I wanted to but not very well and it's too invasive. It's not something I make a habit of doing," her words sound as though they should be accompanied by a smirk, though they are not, the same cold indifference offering the other woman no insight into her thoughts on it. It was the truth, at least a partial truth. It was in fact incredibly easy for Kira to read another's thoughts...if they weren't aware she was listening. She wasn't sure if this stranger would accept that answer, she doubted it would ease any of her nerves. Kira was certain though she would likely wrestle with whether or not she had been using it on her.
Blue eyes watch the strangers posture change, her own following suit, her arms kept loose so they can quickly move to sign if needed. Once again she is questioned, this time not about her power but about why she was in Sacrosanct. It seemed...an odd question and truthfully Kira was sick of answering questions about herself. "Circumstance," the words are cold, the sign short and simple. It was the only explanation she would get, though perhaps it would be enough. The assassin may very well understand just what circumstances could bring someone to a city, she herself was tied here by circumstances out of her control. Same with Kira, the Were, though not stuck in Sacrosanct persay, left to run from her home country by circumstance. In a sudden twist, the white haired russian takes a couple of steps back and sits down, nearly exactly where she had been before the crazy, clearly not fireproof, witch showed up. "I'm tired of being interrogated," she says, exhaustion clear in her words. She signs those last words before resting back on her arms. That icy blue gaze watches the witch carefully then, both to see if she speaks again but also to see what she will decide to do now. Kira was done with this conversation, and would love nothing more than for her doppleganger to kindly leave.