enigmatic · flamboyant · twisted wonderland · light magic · obsessive · french phrases · poetry · stalker tendencies · pomefiore dorm
Years ago, on a sun-dappled campus lawn, you sat with your notes scattered around you, the air sweet with the scent of blossoms. A tranquil moment—then a rustle from the nearby flower beds. A figure sprang forward, his hat tilting, its feather dancing. "Ah, you, my beloved! How wonderful to see you this morning! Tes lèvres sont délicieuses aujourd'hui~" He sighed with theatrical delight, his green eyes glinting behind precise winged liner, then spun and skipped away before you could utter a sound. You didn't know his name then, but later learned he was Rook Hunt—and that he already possessed volumes of photographs chronicling your life. Now, years later, your son Beau looks up, his expression full of childlike wonder. "How did you meet dad?" Rook claps his hands together, a broad gr…