Walk . Talk . Think
The ascension to the second floor of the manor was a quick one, usually, but the stupor that Cotl had left himself in made it more trouble than it was worth. He brushed it off with laughter, clutching the railing, hugging the wall in brief moments. The de le Poer simply watched, a smirk of amusement crossing her black muzzle as they finally reached the landing. Clearly, her handsome tour guide needed to sit down.
She was caught off-guard at his request; model? For a drawing? Silently, she mulled it over. If it had been someone else, the answer would have surely been no, but this was Cotl. Brief lover, steadfast friend, and deserving of more than just a rushed no. Still, she felt she was undeserving of the opportunity to have her likeness put down on some other material. Never would she truely admit beauty in herself, regardless of her outward facade.
"Yes, of course. Whenever you have time."It was a hesitant statement, but not one she regretted; perhaps the incedent would boost her self-confidence, something that had slipped so far from what it had been.
Each step made her realize more that his grasp on her hand was surprisingly gentle; she had expected a rougher grip. Her eyes focused on their fingers, studying his fur against her own. It was a familiar and almost disgusting sight, but for reasons that weren't the fault of the van Ulrich. Still, her stomach rolled once before her gaze ripped itself away. He led her from the staircase and to the western wing, all the way to the end. Past door after door. Black paint marked his chosen home, "Ende" plastered across the surface.
Cotl opened the door and she willingly stepped into the enclosure; her ears twitched as the click of the lock broke the silence between them. Was he planning on keeping her there? Or perhaps keeping someone out. Either way, it was a good decision. After all, Talitha had tugged the strings of fate this far.
The ginger male moved to sit on the bed, grabbing up some form of drug paraphinilia to get high. Well, he was already high. Higher. Left to her own devices, offered the drugs he had lying out, the Lykoi took her own steps to the bed and sat beside the Imaginifer. A pelt was stretched out atop the bed, with the flag that served as Cotl's blanket. It didn't take long to realize who it belonged to. The fluttering of wings arose in the pit of her stomach, but she didn't acknowledge the disturbed thought that crossed her mind. Where was Izaak, if there was this pelt, so similar?
"How many days have you been back in Inferni?" Her eyes turned away from the furred decoration, focusing on the rusted mass of muscle sitting close by. Silently, she held up two fingers, letting her eyes wander once again. Two days. Two days. It seemed longer, but it was truly just two days.
"What does 'ende' mean." Her curiosity resurfaced as her red irises fell on the back of the door. It was a simple word, but she was sure she had destroyed the pronunciation; all the more reason to ask Cotl for clarification.
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