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
Oh, she can see the flush that colors him too, and part of it is certainly something she’s pleased about. But he’s offered her a story and she clings to it, offering her own quiet question in response. Truthfully, she doesn’t know the answer to that either. She doesn’t know how intelligent those ghost whales are, nor have they ever particularly come up in the things she crafts. “That makes sense.” She offers him easily, pulling her hands away from him to reach for her drink to finish it when he does.
“Ready when you are.” She purrs to him, moving to stand, pulling out the payment for the drinks and flashing a wink to Locke as she leans across him to place it at the edge of the table. Straightening up, she reaches for his hand – the one that was on her thigh. “You’re not rushing. I got my stories and showed you the bar.” She hums, moving to step around him and guide him toward the entrance. “Back to my place?” She asks, brushing up against his side with a playful smile.
“Ready when you are.” She purrs to him, moving to stand, pulling out the payment for the drinks and flashing a wink to Locke as she leans across him to place it at the edge of the table. Straightening up, she reaches for his hand – the one that was on her thigh. “You’re not rushing. I got my stories and showed you the bar.” She hums, moving to step around him and guide him toward the entrance. “Back to my place?” She asks, brushing up against his side with a playful smile.
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night
holding close their sharpened knives
holding close their sharpened knives
