╰┈➤ " I made a promise
To distance myself "
Memories are a gift, a stain that allows you to glimpse at the past once the present moment is gone like the flowing wind that awaits no one. But it is only a burden to carry when no one...
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" N U M B E R six, it appears you've been getting heedless by the days. A notable change of pace for someone who's been quite the lacklustre since day one."
"Take a look at yourself before you go around bubbling your little mouth around, widow. Ah, how insensible of me. To a lapdog that knows nothing but to stare up at its owner with tail tucked behind its legs, anyone that doesn't follow like a mass production factory would be the aberration." A sharp grin devoid of any stuffing within its hollow walls flashed as though to balance the words coated with poison and spikes portraying through, he raised bent elbows halfway in a loose shrug. "But of course, the only difference between a butterfly and a moth is their time of activity. One flashes its colourful wings proudly under flowers, while the other lurks under the veil of the dark. Either way, one gets crushed by the hands of humans while its counterpart gets swooped up by the other critters within night."
With a twitch of her eyes, the blonde woman scowled visibly as she crossed her gloved arms. His eyes were laid on her winged mask of its inspiration theme quite clear — a butterfly. Her attire of choice could hardly be ideal for one of the highest ranked military officers of a nation. A tight fitted dress with the hips carved out, adorned with silken rose touches and black diamond shaped details. Her legs weren't even covered by the said dress unless she stood like a stick. However, the lack of vulnerability behind two stoney gray-blue hues was proof that her appearance didn't do justice to match her power.
La Signora gave the younger harbinger a judgemental up and down look, bringing her hand up by her face to inspect her fingertips. "I do feel sorry for that little wife toy you dragged along from your homeland." She clicked. "That is no way to treat a woman. Ah, perchance— maybe this was the reason you were so easily disposed of."
The blonde woman gave an empty smirk. "I could gladly give you some lessons of tips without compensation. Ask and you shall receive." Scaramouche's face morphed into an unreadable expression. He brushed off his clothing and turned his heels. "I knew it was a waste of breath engaging in idle chatter with a human. You are all the same."
She raised a brow, knowing she was getting a rise out of him. "Would you say the same for that pretty you locked behind your manor walls? I can hardly even remember her hair colour, the last time the poor girl saw the light of day was probably your wedding."
There was no response to her question as the Balladeer leisurely walked away from the scene. The Fair Lady only scoffed and uncrossed her arms with a huff. "Ugh, Inazumans and their pesky jingles of whatever ornaments they dazzle themselves with." She murmured beneath her breath, perfectly aware that her previous company could hear from where he was. The only trace he left of his presence was the soft jingling of his headwear ornaments that flowed in the air, becoming thinner and thinner with each step.
