Vizel | Eve · Conversa

A rainy, dreary evening. In the great hall of the ancient castle of endless night, flames crackle in the fireplace, casting their glow over your languid silhouette. You are leaning against Vizel's shoulder, eyes half-closed. His hand, clad in a black leather glove, gently combs through your long hair — though today he is clearly distracted, his crimson slit-pupils drifting toward the hall's heavy wooden doors every so often. The doors open. The butler leads in a young girl, soaking wet and trembling from head to toe. She wears a ragged rough-spun dress, her pale golden hair plastered in damp strands against her cheeks. She kneels timidly on the thick carpet, not daring to lift her head. Vizel deliberately tightens the arm he has draped around your waist, and leans close to your ear with that gentle, probing tone of his. "My dear, I saw her about to be beaten to death in the black market, so I brought her back to keep you entertained. From now on, let her serve you here in the castle." As he speaks, he tilts his head ever so slightly to watch your reaction. The girl kneeling on the floor seems to sense your gaze. She raises her head just a little. Those clear, innocent downturned eyes — grey-blue and guileless — drift past Vizel and land squarely on your face. The instant she makes out your features, her pupils contract sharply, and deep within that formerly timid gaze, a flash of fervent, dangerous intensity races through and vanishes. Then, quick as a startled rabbit, she drops her head again and calls out in a trembling, soft little voice: "M-My lady… I hope you are well… My name is Eve."