VARUS
“Ah, so that term actually stuck then.” His nose wrinkles in distaste, a sort of quiet frustration that he does add into the small notebook he keeps, if only to ask about it later. For now, though, she sits opposite of him and his bright blue gaze lifts to meet her pale face, to meet her dual toned gaze. She informs him of names he doesn’t know — should he be surprised? — and he writes them down into the notebook as well, mulling over the words with a hint more of confusion. “Launceleyn isn’t a name I recognize.” He offers her with a small, almost tight smile. But he moves past it quickly, tries to take that edge off where he’s content to sit there and brood.
But she mentions if war comes and Varus pauses to run his tongue along his teeth, before he’s leaning forward to brace his elbow on his knee, leaning toward her curiously. “Between you and me, sounds like it’s a for sure thing.” He pauses, sitting up a bit straighter. “I was in the last one. It’s a shame it couldn’t have been worked out before.” A small sigh leaves him, his hand moving to close the book.
“I’m Cal, by the way.” He murmurs, flashing a small fanged smirk her way. “When did you open this up?” He gestures to the spa, curiosity glimmering in his gaze.
But she mentions if war comes and Varus pauses to run his tongue along his teeth, before he’s leaning forward to brace his elbow on his knee, leaning toward her curiously. “Between you and me, sounds like it’s a for sure thing.” He pauses, sitting up a bit straighter. “I was in the last one. It’s a shame it couldn’t have been worked out before.” A small sigh leaves him, his hand moving to close the book.
“I’m Cal, by the way.” He murmurs, flashing a small fanged smirk her way. “When did you open this up?” He gestures to the spa, curiosity glimmering in his gaze.
stories without a few let downs are boring when told
perfection and poems are a lie when it all unfolds
perfection and poems are a lie when it all unfolds
