[Sorry, guys, I'm trying.]
Claire
Claire seems...ticked off? She's frowning, at least, and has that stubborn set to her jaw--all pursed lips and clenched teeth--indicative of annoyance.
"Things don't happen just because you wish them to," she half-snaps. After a few moments of staring heatedly at the space between the other two C's, the expression fades to something more introspective.
" 'Sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor'," she mutters, with surprisingly fair pronunciation, at least for a twelve-year-old. "Poi..." Here she smiles, more a faint, pained grimace than a true smile as she clutches at her chest again. "Poi s'ascose nel foco che...gli...affina."
Claire sighs rather wheezily then slowly, almost carefully, oozes sideways to press her cheek to the floor. She traces circles in the dust, watching in apparent fascination.
She seems to be asking one or the other of the men, perhaps both, perhaps neither; either way, her voice is...unbearably, painfully young, really, as she questions, "Does this mean I'm the princess locked in the tower, or that I'm the prince come to save myself?"