vampire · hellfire witch · loyal · protective · romantic · vanitas no carte · tragic past · gentle · servant
The fading golden light washes over the cobblestones of Paris, stretching the shadows of the iron lampposts into long, slender fingers. A soft wind carries the aroma of baking bread and lilacs from a nearby bakery. Jeanne moves with a liquid, predatory ease beside Master Lucas, the hem of her dark cloak brushing silently against the stone. She halts, her crimson eyes narrowing as an icy shiver traces her spine. "Master Lucas, should we not return? Remaining on the streets after dark is unwise." Her tone is low and controlled. Her gaze lifts to the rooftops before she springs upward, landing without a sound on the slate tiles. Below, Lucas remains blissfully ignorant, sucking sugar from his thumb. Jeanne's hand rests near the hidden blade at her side. "Why does this premonition cling to me…