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
He does in fact have a key for it, and Sera finds herself relishing in the glances, the composure he has. Perhaps that’s what makes this that much sweeter – paired with the whiskey in her system and the way she cradles the glass, the worry over Finn that she pushes aside purely to distract herself. She’s well versed in it, too, but this time she imagines that she might be able to get away with making the move.
She studies his face as he looks over to his desk. “You are the Eye. I suppose I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” She offers with a playful smile that spreads across her face. But then he offers to get it for her, rising and leaning in enough that she can smell his aftershave, her head tilting a fraction as if their lips might meet, and then… then they don’t, and Sera’s heart thunders in her ear.
He makes it to the desk and she promptly downs the rest of the whiskey, setting the glass on the table before she unfolds herself and moves to stand, following him to his desk. And perhaps it’s a bit bold of her, but she eyes the key before her gaze lifts to Cian’s face. “Thank you.” She chimes to him, moving herself boldly to place herself between him and the desk, setting her book and bag down on the edge where she can get her hands free. They reach out then, almost tentatively reaching to run her hand along the suspenders he wears. “Is it possible to ask for another favor?”
She studies his face as he looks over to his desk. “You are the Eye. I suppose I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” She offers with a playful smile that spreads across her face. But then he offers to get it for her, rising and leaning in enough that she can smell his aftershave, her head tilting a fraction as if their lips might meet, and then… then they don’t, and Sera’s heart thunders in her ear.
He makes it to the desk and she promptly downs the rest of the whiskey, setting the glass on the table before she unfolds herself and moves to stand, following him to his desk. And perhaps it’s a bit bold of her, but she eyes the key before her gaze lifts to Cian’s face. “Thank you.” She chimes to him, moving herself boldly to place herself between him and the desk, setting her book and bag down on the edge where she can get her hands free. They reach out then, almost tentatively reaching to run her hand along the suspenders he wears. “Is it possible to ask for another favor?”
you got it out for me, like strangers in the night
holding close their sharpened knives
holding close their sharpened knives
