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
His hand remains there, his thumb brushing along the skin of her thigh and she doesn’t move away from it. No, in this little dark corner of theirs, things are easily missed to any onlookers. But she’s a regular here, nobody looks twice at her anymore anyway. So she remains there, flashing him a bright smile of agreement when it came to treating oneself.
A soft chime of laughter leaves her at his admission, and she turns a bit to focus on him a bit more – her leg sliding a fraction under his hand as she adjusts her body to face him. At least it might give him a bit more room along her skin. “That sounds like a bit of a story if I’m being honest.” But the subject of ghost whales has her flashing a brighter grin.
“Tell me about the ghost whales, Locke.” She hums to him, reaching out with her hand to run her fingers along his chest, letting her gaze drift from the path her hand takes, up this face.
A soft chime of laughter leaves her at his admission, and she turns a bit to focus on him a bit more – her leg sliding a fraction under his hand as she adjusts her body to face him. At least it might give him a bit more room along her skin. “That sounds like a bit of a story if I’m being honest.” But the subject of ghost whales has her flashing a brighter grin.
“Tell me about the ghost whales, Locke.” She hums to him, reaching out with her hand to run her fingers along his chest, letting her gaze drift from the path her hand takes, up this face.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night
holding close their sharpened knives
holding close their sharpened knives
