_-_ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: Milos, Greek Islet
_-_ᴡʜᴇɴ: August 1st, 2015
_-_ᴡʜᴏ: Valentine, Sin
_╚______________________╝
The sound of her voice caught the boy’s attention resulting in a a somewhat patronising retort to her words that almost caused her to withdraw instantly; his smile did not help matters with the way it failed to reach his eyes, making her wonder if it was truly seemed real. However when he lifted up a small doll she’d managed to miss hiding in his hands and whispered softly to it she reined in her impulses to flee as her interest was piqued. She had to supress a shudder when he took hold of her hand and kissed it in greeting, her sapphire orbs feeling trapped in the gaze of his literal sanguine eyes. Slipping her fingers out of his grasp while he continued in what she hoped didn’t reveal how his lips on her flesh had bothered her, yet despite that she couldn’t help but chuckle humourlessly at his suggestion of taking her name.
His last comment left her unsure for a moment, her so mentioned eyes searching his face for any similarity to the smile that had heralded the start of his words but instead had found honesty.
“Monsieur Diable, I have myself the honour of being the Chariot of our little gathering. And childish or no, the artwork is archaic.” As she spoke her French accent became more pronounced, adding a lyrical nature to her voice. “A legacy I can well imagine your name to be, but alas I have no such pedigree I’m afraid.”
She paused for a moment before finally responding to his comment about her eyes, still wary at least internally about his words. “It is my eye for detail that outshine is my true legacy, not my family nor my name nor even my magnificent eyes. But merci beaucoup.” Her tone continues from before but she places a hard emphasis on the complement she refuses to accept.