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Only the dim flames of Ramshackle's antiquated chimney had been witness of the long talk the two had shared. Vil, his precious star, would always be the first to listen to whatever was on his mind, which was nothing more than the truth behind that vote given to his enemies on the stage a few hours ago.
Its duration had been long; he himself had to ensure that he needed plenty of time to explain properly what had happened to Pomefiore's leader. He would go first, then the others in due course. As a result, Jamil was tasked with being in charge of the group until midnight.
Rook had been the most reliable witness to the performance during the contest and, as much as it pained him to admit it, he could not betray his heart when he knew with certainty that everything they had practised before the grand finale had been poisoned by Vil's overblot; his own exhausted king after the excesses of magic that had taken hold of him to play against him, the same could be said of the rest of his companions, who gave their best after the arduous battle against him and yet it was still not enough.
In his hands unconsciously laid the final sentence that sealed their defeats and, despite what many people thought, it was the right thing to do. Even if they did not forgive him nor believe him, there was someone who did, and that person's judgment was the only one he needed. In fact, it was he who told him that he had gotten a similar idea of what had actually happened when he heard about his vote, nothing less to expect from him.
Vil understood it all and shared his feelings about it, from the rage after tasting defeat to the concerns that lied within him after all that had happened, this time it was his turn to listen and, of course, shed light on his darkness every time he tried to go down twisted paths in his speech. He narrated his entire story from his childhood to the contest and Rook paid attention from beginning to end.
Seeing him so beautifully fragile caused his heart to break into a thousand pieces, which is why he did everything in his power to make him understand that it was not his fault. Vil was nothing but a victim of his environment, having always been compared, finding each time a growing dissatisfaction as his efforts increased in vain. Although it was clear to him, he commented on the decision to at least compensate the rest of the team for what had happened. It was a very generous gesture, and if it would alleviate his anguish or guilt even a little, he told him to go ahead with the idea.
Once the essential issues of the contest were settled, Rook decided to try to make Vil feel better at all costs. It had been a hard day for him, so he used anecdotes, frequent compliments and topics of conversation of interest in order to make him disconnect a bit from what had happened.
The hunter's joy grew with every sincere smile he managed to draw on his beautiful face, the only regret was not being able to see them with full clarity through the only spotlight in the room, but neither of them wanted to ruin the nocturnal atmosphere illuminated by the flames.
Vil's lavender gaze remained fixed on a specific spot on the table, Rook had an idea of what might be on his mind, but he preferred to be patient and wait for his steps. After a few hesitant seconds he finally let out a resigned sigh as his head ended up on the hunter's shoulder, who in response settled his own on top of it, silently enjoying his elegant scent.
Mundane ears would only pay attention to the dancing crackling of the embers, Rook's ears were also attentive to the calm breathing of the contrary, let's say there was no aspect of Vil that was not being observed at the moment.
“After these two years and today's events, do you know where my astonishment lies?” Vil's point of attention changed to the chimney.
“Où, Vil?” “(Where, Vil?)” He questioned.
He grinned crookedly in response. He, on the other hand, was fully aware of what he meant, that subject he had tried so hard to avoid throughout the talk. He had no intention of bringing it up unless he did, for the simple reason that he had suffered an overblot only a few hours ago in part because of the aforementioned. But if he was prepared, by all means he would let him proceed.
He was prepared to discuss everything with him that night, Rook was not prone to exposing his private life, and Vil was an exception, the only one, because they had both learned to consider each other their greatest source of trust.
“How is it possible that I didn't know until today that you were such a fan of Neige?” There was no trace of anger in his voice, only disbelief.
He hid that fact when he found out about Vil's true thoughts on LeBlanche, these days he would call it a consequence of his freshman self not wanting for anything in the world to lose his new star, the reason he didn't mention it afterwards boils down to not seeing any timing as opportune.
“I think you know the answer.” he reached for the soft fingers of his delicate, manicured hands, embracing them at once. He had an idea in mind to explain it to him. “Still, if I may, I could tell you a story.”
Unfortunately, Vil sat back in his seat so that he could face him, ah, even his grimace of annoyance was completely precious. The problem was that it wasn't with Rook, it was with himself, he knew this for a fact because it had been going on since they had set foot in Ramshackle.
“Did you do it for me?” He tried to keep a firm attitude, but his violet eyes trembled more than the flames that lit them, like a field of lavender flowers in the harsh months of autumn.
“Vil.” He warned in a whisper. “No more blame for today.”
The Pomefiore leader pursed his lips warily. It had been a long few hours of understanding, but it would only be the tip of the iceberg until the facts finally penetrated Vil's ideology. He felt the light pressure of his fingers clinging to his right hand.
“You're right, I'm sorr..” The hunter frowned with a sheepish grin, he didn't want to scold him anymore. Vil decided to go the other way when he saw his expression. “How about telling me that story instead?" He regained confidence in his voice again.
“Of course, it has to do with the subject you brought up.” He explained. “Do you think it's appropriate for me to pick it up?”
“Go ahead, I introduced it for a reason, my dear.” His smile widened at his words, even more so when the contrary did as well.
Good, it was happening, he had waited so long! He hopped up from the sofa, his destination being that large album ─which had caused Vil so much silent interest─ lying on the low round table. He also located two metal candle holders and came up with an idea to shed light on the matter without yet pressing the switch.
He pushed the table towards the sofa, took the holders in his hands and approached the fireplace. The heat took over his senses as he approached the flames, he needed it to light the candles, so he carefully moved them closer to the fire. The wicks ignited immediately, beginning to burn slowly.
When he turned around again his lavender eyes were looking at him again with full attention. He returned to his side and put the candles back on the table, Vil took the scrapbook in his hands to make some space so that it would not be in any danger of being damaged by the wax. It ended up on both their laps, half on each of their legs. There was now enough light to read it. He allowed himself to take a few moments to admire his beautiful face illuminated in shades of orange and yellow.
Every story began with an introduction, so that's what he would do.
“This album is my most valuable possession, but it is not only from Roi du Neige!” He hastened to specify as he saw resignation take over his expression. “Over the course of a decade and two years I have filled it with memories that have captured my heart in many different ways. I have divided it into sections and sewn the pages to the spine myself. It has undergone many modifications to make it fit my taste.”
All hard work had its reward, and rereading its pages perfectly arranged as he pleased was his reward. He had two albums, one for human beauty and one for the beauty of nature in general. He told him that the first was far more important.
Vil caressed the cover with complete carefulness, fearful of spoiling such a prized possession. His head rested again in the same place as before as he decided to open the thick cover, Rook took it with his left hand. On the first page were written in cursive, golden calligraphy three parallel lines of words in the francophone language, clearly readable thanks to the new light source.
“The Sun. The Stars. The Star that Shines brighter than the Sun.” He read the names of the sections aloud with a flawless French pronunciation worthy of Schoenheit, hearing him speak in his mother tongue was a delight to his ears.
The first section was devoted to this Sun, also the longest. The Sun whose real identity was Neige LeBlanche, Rook's nerves grew every time Vil silently concentrated in reading a new line of annotations next to each photograph of Neige. He had never found himself particularly embarrassed next to him before, that was the first time, and when the other man noticed he looked at him sideways.
“I won’t doubt it is a big collection.” He remarked, turning one more page. “You're going to regret that I learned French for you.”
Rook was glad that he felt like joking after all that had happened and that he was being so respectful at the same time, he knew him well enough to know when he was using his acting skills and he knew he wasn't at that moment.
“Don't be cruel, my Roi du Poison.” He implored dramatically. “I haven't shown this album to anyone before.”
“I know, and that's why I won't read every paragraph.” He promised. Rook nodded in relief. “It's not usual for you to be embarrassed, I'm telling you now, Rook, it's fine if you want to be his fan, I won't be the one to stop you, besides, you make it very clear that this is all fully platonic and idyllic in your.... Annotations.” He frowned, curious, as he read a particular sentence. “What is this medical miracle thing?”
Vil had understood perfectly what was really going on with him and Neige since the contest. He was just a dedicated fan, and that was the truth, without any twists and turns or hidden interpretations. He ran his emerald eyes over the paragraph to refresh his memory.
“Ah, yes, you see, when I was eight years old I fell very ill for a month and a half, “Restez en dehors des bois!” “(don't go near the woods!)” my mother used to tell me, it took me a while to recover because that was my place in the world, they had to take turns to watch over me so that I wouldn't run away and worsen my condition again.” It happened a total of three times, the third time was the charm, where they decided to take drastic measures.
“Ara, I didn't know I was dating such a rebellious hunter.” He commented with a half-smile, resting his fist under his chin. Rook chuckled under his breath.
“I couldn't help it, the greatest source of beauty I knew so far was there, in the life of the flora and fauna, resplendent, like magic, I was bewitched by it every day, it was my source of inspiration, of being... Even the death of it was beautiful, everything that was part of it.” He was already getting away from the main topic, he would get back to the point “I started to do something I never used to do, watch TV and... There it was! The Sun. For the first time, there was someone whose beauty shone far brighter than anything I could find in Afterglow Savanna, his smile was the most resplendent I had ever witnessed in my entire life. Incidentally, it was what kept me from leaving the house for the rest of my days until my recovery, so it was like a medical miracle! From then on I became a big fan of his, though....”
“Being the Sun is not enough?” He tried to complete instead.
“Oui! Roi du Neige is my Sun, but only that, the distance that separates us is the only thing that would cross my mind to deal with him, he is... Unreachable, if you touch him, you burn yourself and he would lose his beauty, the charm of the impossible.” He was spouting all the metaphors about it, and Vil listened to him with that grimace of fascination and interest that he liked so much. “I am comfortable with that position, for, after all, it was not what my heart longed for.”
Because he didn't know what he was missing until the third section of that photo album. Vil continued to turn over pages and photographs, he noticed him more reflective from that last highlighted point, after all, he had to get an idea of who it was that shone brighter than the important and unattainable Sun.
All in due time, before that section was the smaller one, entitled "The Stars", inside were pictures of all sorts of people, both alone and with the hunter himself, posing in an amusing way, or concentrating on other tasks... They were mostly Night Raven College students, and they also possessed one particular characteristic: there was no trace of Vil except in group photos, which was where the King of Poison stopped most often to peruse the annotations.
They were divided by dormitories, Pomefiore had been the first, Vil searched himself through the pictures without success, he saw several of Epel and other classmates. Then, Heartslabyul, there was a lot of content from Trey and the science club, now he ended up with Scarabia, where he mostly found photographs from that last month.
“Friendship Section.” He arched an eyebrow as he turned the page, a grimace of rejection appearing on his face. “More like individuals worthy of your attention, but not quite up to Neige's level.” He rectified resignedly as he looked at a photo of Leona sleeping.
“Oh, all the photos in the album taken by me had his prior knowledge and consent, Roi du Lion used it as a bargaining chip to get me to leave him alone for a whole day.” He said off the cuff, but with a calm tone of voice.
“I understand, you don't have to justify yourself, it's your album after all.” His cold index finger tapped his nose before resting next to his cheek. “I don't know how long it must have taken you, but the fondness and carefulness you've put into each page is evident, there's not a single one where you haven't transmitted it so far.”
And he was right, each photograph was positioned with absolute precision and patience on the page in an arrangement to the hunter's liking, each inked line had been written with careful calligraphy after numerous attempts on discarded papers, each one of them sewn with the discreet stitches of a needle. There was not a single detail unchecked among these pages.
“As always, Vil, there is no person who understands me as well as you do.” He raised his right hand to his heart in an emotive gesture. Under his touch it beat as fast as usual when the Poison King was near him. “That's right, I've tried not to neglect any, it has to represent beauty and do it justice.”
“You're certainly succeeding.” Receiving Vil's praise filled him with joy. “By the way, are you feeling calmer?” He nodded in reply, satisfied, he returned to the Sea Witch's dormitory. “Good, then I'll continue.”
“Oui, I trust you, what happened before was just first-time nerves of no importance.” He remarked modestly “And you, Vil, are you feeling better than before?”
He wondered when was the last time he felt those nerves, perhaps it was when he met Vil for the first time, or his company during those first months in which their relationship of trust was being forged. They were very specific ones, that was for sure, as a hunter he was used to hide them perfectly, but when it was about him everything stopped being so easy in many aspects, as well as in others that should be difficult, the opposite happened.
“That's right.” He smiled at that statement. “Thank you, Rook. I really mean it. I'll have another time to think deeply about the root of the problem and be ashamed of my actions… No, the earlier talk was enough.” He closed his eyes, breathed in, breathed out, and looked at him again. Vil's arms were now in a confident position. Rook was proud that he was being able to control those thoughts. “Now I'd rather focus on this album and you, of course. After all, I couldn't ask for a better companion.”
“Neither do I, my precious Vil.”
He took advantage of the statement and the position of his arms to slip his own carefully between them, making sure the gesture was appropriate. The Pomefiore leader was quicker to lean into him and settle into the embrace at last with a confident smile on his lips. As Vil let his head rest on his shoulder, he stroked his nape with his right hand, his left one carefully wandering along his back.
If he could, he would stay in his arms as long as he could, but the very thought of it reminded him of an important fact. He lifted the sleeve of his jacket so that he could glance at the time and found that, as he had feared, they only had a scant ten minutes left on the clock to be alone, yet he allowed himself to lengthen the seconds irretrievably, for he did not wish to be separated from him.
“Vil.” He called out in a whisper.
“Hmm?” He seemed to think so too, he was tired and didn't want to pull away from him either, he could tell so from the way he tightened his grip.
“It's nearly twelve o'clock.” He reported. “Monsieur Multi-Skilled will be back with the others soon.”
“Fine.” He also took a few seconds extra before partially letting him go, as he hooked his forearm immediately. “Is it alright if I go ahead to the third section?”
That one was the most special in the eyes of the hunter, of course, they all possessed a unique relevance and beauty, but that one could not even be compared to the others, it was simple, its level surpassed every established standard.
“Of course! It is the one that ends the story of the photo album and also the most important one, I can lend it to you again some other time if you are interested in the content you missed.” he blurted out as if it was nothing.
Those words actually carried a lot of weight underneath them, for Rook used to shy away from anything that would reveal details of his intimate life, and yet if it came to Vil that ideology no longer mattered because he would trust him with his life, in fact, that was what he was doing when he showed him the contents of the pages.
“I will consider doing so.” With permission conceded, he hurried forward through the pages.
He carefully went through the pages in search of his objective, Rook decided to lend him a hand, shortening the path by passing a considerable number of them at a time, he was the only one who knew more precisely where to find it after all. They reached it with ease after a few seconds, the same style of cursive calligraphy adorned the cover, below the text was a drawing of a particular crown, none other than the one Vil usually wore for events that required his dormitory robes, and behind it, on a dark background, were stars.
“L'étoile qui brille plus que le soleil.” “(The Star that shines brighter than the Sun).” He read aloud. “As you might have guessed, that's you, mon ètoile.”
He ran his fingers over the strokes in a gentle manner, not wanting to smudge it. This time it was Vil who put his hand to his heart, his features softening as he turned the page and found a picture of them together in first year starring on the page. The hunter with hair so long it reached his waist, so it was usual to see him with a high ponytail, while Vil's hair was shorter than his current hairstyle.
It was the first selfie they had taken together, but their expressions said it all, that big smile on the hunter's face and a sly one on Vil. Below there was a more blurry one, in which he was laughing while the other looked angry, he was scolding an upperclassman for wearing his tie wrong. In the present Rook was silent, paying full attention to his reactions so as not to miss a single detail.
“Tell me about this section.'' He demanded, paying voracious attention to the texts.
He had no time to think, so he would let his heart speak instead, whenever he put himself in the hypothetical case that the same situation would happen sooner or later he told himself the same thing, that his feelings would speak for him, because there was no other way to approach the situation, at least from his own point of view.
“Remember I mentioned earlier that the Sun was missing something?” He fixed his emerald eyes on the dancing flames of the chimney. “Two years ago I knew I found what I was looking for in that mirror ceremony, at first glance anyone would say it was just a hunch, but as I pursued it that fact became more and more real, tangible, and one fact became very clear to me: that the most beautiful person on the face of the earth was not someone I would settle for admiring from a faraway place.” In fact, he saw his beauty in person from a spectator role on another occasion that same year and meeting him, this time at Night Raven College, reaffirmed those seeds of his thoughts. “I had the ambition to overcome more and more barriers, it wasn't rational, far from it, but it made sense to me. With swearing to stay by your side for as long as you would let me saying that I would protect your beauty… I was not deceitful at all, for what I had longed for all this time suddenly showed itself to me and I did not want to let it go, nor did I have any other way of expressing it.” his gaze returned to the pages, he sought his hands to caress them delicately. “The fact is that you, my dear Roi du Poison, with you I discovered at last what it was to love someone truly, and those feelings prevail in me to this day as strong and throbbing as the first time our gazes met under the hoods of ceremonial robes, well, much more so with the passing of time. You shine brighter than the Sun and any other star, I assure you with all my heart, to me you are and always will be the most beautiful person in existence. That is the end of the story of the quest of le chasseur d'amour, who managed to fulfil that dream thanks to a star.”
With a persistent warmth in his cheeks and also a strong heartbeat he came out of the trance he entered unconsciously during his speech, when it came to expressing his feelings towards Vil he was always in a haze. The aforementioned stopped focusing on the album from the beginning of his monologue, again, he found that glint in his violet eyes, as well as tears threatened to come out of them, that alerted him, but before he could intervene, he saw him with the intention of answering.
“Rook...” He sobbed.
He immediately attended his tears, wiping them away with his thumbs and a shrinking heart. It was the third time he had seen him shed them that day, he couldn't bear the thought that this time it was his fault.
“No, no, no, no, Vil, I didn't want to…” He placed his hand over his lips, so he had no choice but to remain silent.
A sincere smile appeared on Vil's face to the hunter's surprise. Of course, his tears were not of sadness, he must still be in that trance if he had mistaken something so obvious. He would let him vent as he wished.
“Rook, I…” He paused briefly to take a breath. He also seemed to be choosing beforehand what he would answer him. “I saw something in you in first year, too. At first I took it as a challenge for you to show off your full potential, then we conveniently ended up as classmates and roommates, so it was easy for me to promise myself that I would bring out the best in that scruffy hunter prone to being self-absorbed by beauty, bring out the best in you, but, before I knew it, you began to do the same with me on those terms. It's been almost four years where I can freely admit that I've finally wanted someone for myself in every way, I've always faced situations on my own, and today, like so many times before, you've opened my eyes again. I feel that gratitude words, even this response, are too little compared to how I really feel, it is not in my hands to be as expressive as you. I hope it is enough to make you understand my feelings.”
That confession went deep into Rook's heart. Vil, his precious Vil, as he mentioned, was not usually so prone to talk about how he felt, he showed it in other ways, but there were times like these when he had the pleasure of hearing it from his lips and, honestly, there was no exception where it did not fill him with fervour. With the next blink his greenish eyes watered irretrievably, this time it was the other who showed concern in his lavender eyes.
“Vil…” He sobbed.
“No, don't you cry too, you'll make me... Agh…” He knew Vil had lost control of his tears when they slid down his cheeks again. “Nevermind.”
“Your words have been completely captivating and beautiful! I have felt each one of them touch every fiber of my being. I can't help but be moved.” He explained in a raspy voice.
“That's exactly how I feel about the ones you've dedicated to me before.” He sighed. “Anyway, it's not bad to let off steam once in a while. You're the one who often says it to me and, as usual, you're right.” He saw him patting the pockets of his jacket, from one of them he took out a silk handkerchief. “Here.”
“Merci.”
A few hours ago, at the end of the contest, it was the hunter who held out his, and now the tables had turned, the king made his compensation for it. The cloth gave off a subtle fragrance, the scent of Vil.He wiped away his tears and tried to calm himself, even if they stopped, that inner warmth would remain vividly within him. He wanted to wipe away Vil's tears, but as he brought the handkerchief to his cheek his fine ears alerted him to the sound of voices fluttering in the hallway, and soon after, he heard the grinding creak of the front door.
Schoenheit slammed the album shut, Hunt blew out the candles on the low table, whose flames were immediately extinguished. He let the contrary take the large book in his hands, he, for his part, went in search of the switch. The voices of the juniors were rising along with their steps, Rook distinguished those of all the participants, but only one of them dared to enter the lounge. Scarabia's vice-leader appeared with that resigned grimace that usually characterised his face just in time as he turned on the lights.
“I have called each of you five times to let you know we were coming back, my task has been accomplished, so, except for Kalim, the rest of them are no longer in my charge.” He informed them, as straight to the point as usual. “I have been precise with the time you told me, good night.”
“You have fulfilled your duty.” Vil's voice was firm, solid again. The armour was back in place, but his hands were still clutching the object full of memories.
“Thank you Monsieur Multi-Skilled, Bonne nuit!” While in Rook's there was no trace of tears, only the hunter's usual optimism.
“Ah, you're welcome, bonn... whatever.”
Jamil silently judged the scene, Rook saw clearly how his silver eyes did not miss a single detail; the handkerchief he was holding, the recently extinguished candles on the table, the large and recognisable album and who was holding it. But he said nothing about it, he left the way he had come.
Before the other chattering students in the foyer could decide to go inside as well, they gave each other a complicit glance that ended at the stairs. The Pomefiore leader didn't seem to have anything more to say to the rest of the students. He waited for Vil to reach his position so that they could both proceed to the stairs, ascending them swiftly. Thanks to their quickness they were able to reach the corridor to the rooms without being interrupted again.
“Well, the potatoes are back at home. I hope they're tired enough not to make too much of a fuss, I really don't want to take the trouble to scold them.”
“You can use a silencing enchantment.” He suggested. “You need to recuperate energy, if anything happens I'll take care of it.”
Because he had no intention of resting. Trey had told him about what the first nights after an overblot were like when he took care of Riddle after his own, and he feared the same would happen to his beloved King of Poison. He would have to be attentive; he didn't mind sacrificing hours of sleep in the process if it ensured he could do his duty: be there for Vil if he needed him.
“I will think about it.”
They finally reached the doors of their rooms, which were next to each other. He settled back against the wall as he saw him with no intention of entering his own, nor of returning a certain object because of the way his grip tightened as he dared to look at him. Everything about him indicated tiredness, from the relaxed posture of his shoulders to the narrowing of his lavender eyes. If he asked him, he would still say he was the fairest of them all.
“I have one question to ask you, may I read the last section now? The album is very personal, so I'll understand if you don't feel comfortable with it.”
Rook smiled at the suggestion, nothing really made him more pleased than that he wanted to read the annotations of his photographs, besides, he was quite confident that he would only focus on his own even though he was free to reread the previous ones if he wished to do so. He helped him hold the album with his right hand, and with his left hand he reached for the Vil's right hand to grab it and place a kiss on his knuckles.
“Sure! As long as you give it back to me you can keep it for as long as you want, no need to rush.” He winked before continuing. “Take a look at the other sections if you wish.”
“Thank you, dear.” He insisted on holding the object, he walked back with it to the door of his own room. “Wait here.”
He entered it swiftly. As a patient hunter, he could wait a few more minutes. In the end, he did not even get to one, for he emerged from it after a few seconds with a thin book bound in purplish cloth in his hands, holding it out to him without a moment's hesitation. He had a feeling that he had seen it before in Vil's room at Pomefiore, ah! It was one of his diaries. He didn't read it, of course, he too respected the privacy of others ─ if certain unimportant details were excluded ─, especially when it came to him. But what was it doing there?
“It's fair enough, I wrote it in first year.” He explained. “There's plenty of mundanity between its pages, but there's nothing you can't read, it talks about you, by the way, and quite a lot.” He opened his mouth to ask, but Vil was quicker. “I have it here because, well, the content always manages to get a smile or two out of me, the nostalgia soothes me.”
He would treasure it, protect it with his life if necessary, and read every paragraph attentively. He took it in his hands with full excitement, he would have entertainment for the hours of late night that awaited him. It was a piece of Vil, yet another aspect of the countless details and facts he had taken it upon himself to memorise, those sacred texts would be no exception.
“I will take proper care of it.” He made no effort to hide the fervour in his tone of voice. “Thank you for trusting me, Vil!”
“Once again, you take the words right out of my mouth.” He folded his arms before approaching him, he closed his eyes as he felt the brief touch of his soft lips on his cheek. “I thank you once again for everything you have done for me today and I remind you that our date at the festival tomorrow is still on, I could use a break.”
“I'm looking forward to it, if you feel like it we'll go.” He nodded. “And it's nothing, you know that if you need anything else I'm in the next room.” He let go of his face gently. He advanced a few steps towards his own door with his back to it. “Bonne nuit, mon étoile! Je t'aime.”
“Good night, Rook.” He put his index finger to his cheek, a confident smile spread across his face. “Moi aussi.”
He didn't want to waste a single second, and when Vil returned to his room it was his turn to do so. As soon as he had bolted the latch, he rushed briskly to the bed without even undoing his shoes, for he could not wait a second longer to read its contents.
He unconsciously repeated the same actions of running his fingers carefully over the cover. In his hands laid a symbol of trust, it gathered thoughts of his beloved Vil and he had permission to read it, so he went ahead and did so.
He picked up the purple cover to reveal a front cover, the hunter's emerald eyes stood very still at the artistic coincidence of that book and his own. Under the section heading was drawn a very specific bow, his own. The words, inked in violet, read as follows:
Night Raven College Diary
First Trimester
"Le chasseur d'amour"