_-_ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: Milos, Greek Islet
_-_ᴡʜᴇɴ: August 1st, 2015
_-_ᴡʜᴏ: Valentine, Sin
_╚______________________╝
The journey down to Greece had certainly been rather strange for Cassandra, a sensations she couldn’t quite attune to though the confinement hadn’t particularly sat well with her after a while she’d managed. Now she leaned over the bars at the front of a boat as it pulled into the island dock in the shadow of a mansion, the novelty of surging across the water, her hair caught in the wind had brought a smile to her lips. And somehow not sent her blue baker boy hat flying across the deck.
Casting a quick glance up at the mansion she bent down and picked up her luggage; which consisted of a large square wooden box and a suitcase in addition to her backpack before descending onto solid ground once more. The case squeaked alongside her, it’s wheels a little stiff as she made her way towards the building itself, after a little while she twisted her arm slightly and hefted the wooden box over her shoulder to try and ease the pain of its weight.
Glancing over her shoulder she could see that the sun was beginning its slow decline towards the horizon, still a few hours away but the ripples of colour brought a smile to her lips. Turning back towards the steps at the sound of footsteps she was greeted by a couple of well-dressed people who looked to be servants up at the mansion; with this theory being cemented by their offers to take her belongings up to her room. She handed the suitcase over without much hesitation but kept her backpack and seemed unwilling to relinquish her box as they continued towards the open doors leading into the building. Relenting somewhat she unslung her backpack, unlocked and unzipped it so she could pull out her sketchbook, inside which was her Tarot card which she flashed them. Dropping the book and making sure the backpack was secure once again she put it back over her shoulder before lifting and gingerly passing over the box, making sure to memorise the man’s face should anything befoul it.
Watching her prized possessions vanish up a nearby stairway for a moment she almost failed to heed to gentle direction of an older man with a welcoming expression who led her towards a pair of double doors that appeared to open onto a dining hall already filled with a gaggle of others who she could only assume to be students. All the seats looked to be filled at first glance save one which the older gentleman who led her to the room points out to her and her initial assessment causes her to pull her hat down over her face a little in embarrassment as the realisation overcomes her that she was the last to arrive. Her turquoise headphones still dangled around her neck, and she resisted the urge to withdraw completely into the visual world of her art with music to blot out the audible world.
As she reached the empty chair she pulled off her leather jacket, slings her backpack under the table and quickly hiks her tattered blue jeans up a little and smoothing down her shirt before sitting down as she was certain they’d slipped down walking up the steps and settling in next to an odd boy on her left wearing a top hat. She glances over the name card in front of him. Belphagor Sin. Not the strangest, but certainly a contender. Her head tilted as she examines his features the way only an artist can. She smiles, leans forward to rest her elbows on the table before speaking.
“So, what’s your favourite sin then Mr Belphagor?”
As she finished her question she lowers her right arm flat onto the table with the palm open in one half of a handshake.