Odette stared for several long minutes in silence, her ocean-hued gaze lingering upon the gaudy sweater that had been thrust into the space between she and the white-haired centurion. Bright orange and yellow in zig-zagged pattern, made all the worse for it’s uneven stitching, the garment was truly an eyesore that almost forced instinctive recoil.
“You cannae be serious….†stated the blonde, her attention slowly weaving upward from the sweater to the man who held it; his expression unreadable save for the smallest hint of pride for his hard-worked creation. “What is this, Boss…? Some kind of… garlean tradition? A form of will-based torture? It’s–â€
“I made it,†he cut her off matter-of-factly, not lowering his hands that grasped the brightly coloured attire at the shoulders to show it off in all it’s unholy glory. The golden orb of his functioning eye lifted to meet her gaze expectantly, the two of them locked in an awkward standoff. Odette sighed heavily and reached out to take the ugly sweater from his grasp, the paler band of the pure-blood’s missing bonding ring not lost on her. I suppose there are worse ways t’cope with divorce… she groaned internally as she draped the monstrosity over her arm and unbuttoned her tunic.
Septimus himself retracted his gloved hands, one lifting to rub at the nape of his neck as she went about exchanging one garment for the other without a care for the foyer’s locale nor the golden gaze that passed over her. Tugging down the gifted sweater shortly after, the garment several sizes too big that it might be considered insulting, the highlander scratched at her shoulders that had already began to itch.
I need a raise.
“You cannae be serious….†stated the blonde, her attention slowly weaving upward from the sweater to the man who held it; his expression unreadable save for the smallest hint of pride for his hard-worked creation. “What is this, Boss…? Some kind of… garlean tradition? A form of will-based torture? It’s–â€
“I made it,†he cut her off matter-of-factly, not lowering his hands that grasped the brightly coloured attire at the shoulders to show it off in all it’s unholy glory. The golden orb of his functioning eye lifted to meet her gaze expectantly, the two of them locked in an awkward standoff. Odette sighed heavily and reached out to take the ugly sweater from his grasp, the paler band of the pure-blood’s missing bonding ring not lost on her. I suppose there are worse ways t’cope with divorce… she groaned internally as she draped the monstrosity over her arm and unbuttoned her tunic.
Septimus himself retracted his gloved hands, one lifting to rub at the nape of his neck as she went about exchanging one garment for the other without a care for the foyer’s locale nor the golden gaze that passed over her. Tugging down the gifted sweater shortly after, the garment several sizes too big that it might be considered insulting, the highlander scratched at her shoulders that had already began to itch.
I need a raise.
"When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw."
-|| Odette Saoirse | Femme Fatale | Balmung | Wikiâ†Leave rumors! | The Hands of Edelweiss ||-
-|| Odette Saoirse | Femme Fatale | Balmung | Wikiâ†Leave rumors! | The Hands of Edelweiss ||-