Seraphina
the artificer
i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in
a masquerade, you'll hide your face
a masquerade, you'll hide your face
A huff of a laugh leaves her as he clicks his tongue, her dark gaze leveling on him with a raise of a brow. “You’re from Torchline, I imagine it only makes sense.” She titters lightly, offering her own playful jesting as they step into her apartment. A decisive nod is given at the mention of Gideon, though, letting Locke commit the name to memory, before she’s drifting further into the apartment toward where she might go to change.
“Where’s the harm in that?” She quips back, flashing him a wink, before she departs fully into her room. She’s gone for not too long, but long enough for Locke to get a good look at the space, the softness of the blankets and the pillows on the couch, the opulence of her kitchen and the snacks left out on the counter to be easily grabbed upon her inevitable departure, blueprints on the coffee table with a pencil that she’s been pouring over.
When she returns, she’s put together again, hair down and no longer tied up, a skirt worn that stops just around her knees, and a blouse with a deep v-neck that both clings to her skin and flows. Her face is painted up again, a dark red lipstick applied to her lips and kohl eyeliner that flares out in a wing on either side. And it’s with a bright smile that she returns to Locke. “Well, are you ready? I am.”
“Where’s the harm in that?” She quips back, flashing him a wink, before she departs fully into her room. She’s gone for not too long, but long enough for Locke to get a good look at the space, the softness of the blankets and the pillows on the couch, the opulence of her kitchen and the snacks left out on the counter to be easily grabbed upon her inevitable departure, blueprints on the coffee table with a pencil that she’s been pouring over.
When she returns, she’s put together again, hair down and no longer tied up, a skirt worn that stops just around her knees, and a blouse with a deep v-neck that both clings to her skin and flows. Her face is painted up again, a dark red lipstick applied to her lips and kohl eyeliner that flares out in a wing on either side. And it’s with a bright smile that she returns to Locke. “Well, are you ready? I am.”
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night
holding close their sharpened knives
holding close their sharpened knives
