#no icons cauuuuuuuse no one likes jane enough to make icons

[sweetbitterbitten]

“You belong to me.” (to lady rochford)

These words he speaks in the space above her shoulder, from behind and to the right, as though he were some spirit or witching familiar - perched within whispering distance; set to summon a storm if so be it. A soft scoff trades air with his emphatic claim, her hands held in a controlled curl against her abdomen. The snort tilts her forward with a haughty arch to her throat, the upward thrust of nose and chin as her lips quirk wryly in return. “Do you think me one of your creatures, Master Cromwell?”