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
She tries to imagine what kind of marks and designs he draws against her warm skin. His hand sweeps up and up slowly, tentatively in some aspects, though she doesn’t stop him. Nor would she, with the angle they have here? It’s just them in a dark corner at a table and she’s facing him. So she focuses on his face when he speaks, letting the alcohol burn with everything else within her as the flush grows along her neck and darkens her cheeks a fraction.
She’s captivated by his story, though, evidenced by the smile on her face and where her hands continue to travel up and up the panes of his chest to his shoulders, spreading her fingers out along them. “Wow.” She comments, breathlessly, letting the smile falter a fraction for the seriousness of what occurred. “That’s incredible. Awful for the sailors, of course, but… Wow.” She breathes, letting her brow pinch a fraction as her head angles toward him and her hands still. “Have you seen a ghost whale since?” She finally decides, her hands moving again to run down his chest now.
She’s captivated by his story, though, evidenced by the smile on her face and where her hands continue to travel up and up the panes of his chest to his shoulders, spreading her fingers out along them. “Wow.” She comments, breathlessly, letting the smile falter a fraction for the seriousness of what occurred. “That’s incredible. Awful for the sailors, of course, but… Wow.” She breathes, letting her brow pinch a fraction as her head angles toward him and her hands still. “Have you seen a ghost whale since?” She finally decides, her hands moving again to run down his chest now.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night
holding close their sharpened knives
holding close their sharpened knives
