i'm gonna miss it someday

Seraphina

the artificer

i'm not a slave, i won't be guided to a grave in
a masquerade, you'll hide your face

She doesn’t mind the hand at her back as she guides them into the bar, nor does she mind his soft quip about being his favorite kind of girl. No, if anything, it earns him a playful smirk and a bat of her lashes. “I’m a builder, after all. I’m certainly not delicate.” She supplies in response to the comment of whiskey, before they’re settling in the seat together and she leans in to turn her body a bit toward him, leaning an elbow onto the table as her eyes widen at the offering of a choice with the stories.

She makes a show of thinking it over, a finger rising to her red lips, tapping there a few moments before the whiskey arrives for the both of them and she reaches for that instead. “I want to know all of them, but I’ll settle for the ship story first.” She says, lips brushing against the rim of the glass before she takes a long slow sip, relishing in it with a soft fluttering of her gaze, before her attention returns to his face.

She absolutely plans to hang onto every word he says, whether or not it’s exaggerated. She’s here for the wistful stories of Torchline, after all. And who better to hear them from than from someone that is a Torcher?

you got it out for me, like strangers in the night
holding close their sharpened knives