Skeletons in the Closet

[Sylvie Ciel]

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Table © Frost
-noms on school-
WC: 408

Sylvie had heard the moon-spun female settle herself into position behind her, soft, floppy ears flicking in the direction of the other's footfalls. Nothing else followed those movements besides, perhaps, Layla's rising and falling breaths, coupled with quieted crying. The young french collie avoided saying anything to her, as if also ignoring the older canine in favor of something else. Alas, Sylvie had no reason to hide her face as Layla did, but she was worried. Worried that she had stumbled upon a grieving female's time to visit the grave of someone she cared for. To have done such a thing would terribly hurt the tender-hearted beauty. Such an intrusion was intolerable, after all. However, it seemed, she had to acknowledge her company once that cliche 'is someone there?' slipped from her creamy maw.

Sylvie turned part of the way, mostly facing the statue, but turning enough to see the tattoo'd female well. She was a lovely thing, midnight beneath moonlit markings, with eyes the shade of cerulean skies... her eyes brought back memories of a certain cobalt and slate boy Sylvie knew. Shaking her head a little to clear those thoughts, violet gems came upon the tattoo on Layla's face before she finally said something. "Ah, yes. Hello... sorry if I'm interrupting something... I came to admire the statues." Came her soft, lilting voice, that ever present french accent dancing over her words. It had faded over the years, that accent, but just as the scent of salt water clung fervently to her pelt from so many moons ago, it refused to fizzle out completely.

Searching for a conversation piece not involving the graveyard, as it appeared the dark valkyrie had already handled the grave she came to see, Sylvie's gaze fell once more upon the blue swirl on Layla's marble visage. She was highly intrigued by it's coloration and perfect shift between colors, after all... oh! "If you don't mind me asking... how did you get that marking around your eye?" She had never seen a tattoo close up, and curiousity was piqued at the idea of how it might have gotten there. What did tattooing entail, after all, besides a mass of dye and something capable of putting it onto one's fur? Sylvie had toyed with the idea of perhaps dying her coat another shade... but that would be, likely, too extreme. No one would recognize her...

Or at least, that was what she thought.