Pretty, is what he thinks she is. From their first meeting, it was an attraction at first sight. A desire to possess something valuable.
Rome watches the black haired female through the wide glass window, as she is busy with her work. Occupied with her task, the girl stretches her right hand to straighten the material, while her left hand holds the fabric stable under the machine's needle. She works with the experience of a long-term seamstress.
Other seamstresses move around the lady, occasionally blocking Rome's view, which irritates him.
"Still stalking the girl, Jerome?" A voice sounds from his side.
Rome ignores his sister's voice, paying no heed to her words.
"Dad said she's an Arrieht. Would you like to fuck with that? The Prince's... one of many playthings?"
Rome rolls his eyes. "Keeping your mouth shut will not make anyone assume you are mute, Ophelia."
"Ah, I see." Ophelia chuckles, her blonde hair looking luscious under the gentle sun's rays.
She smirks, "Fuck her first then hand her over to Cyrus? Nice move, brother."
Rome's jaws clenched as he turns to face his half-sister.
Before he could say anything, Ophelia steps close to him and voices out with a sweet smile, "I don't think I lack anything she has, rather, I have what she does not. If you ever decide to stop playing with different girls and have a precious, more beautiful lady by your side, my door is always open."
Jerome feels his nausea grow listening to Ophelia. He regrets having good vision. Maybe if he didn't, he wouldn't have seen her fair, supple body, being showcased from the thin see-through net material, highlighted under the sun. And her pink nipples perked up like a tantalizing treat, beautiful curves and that cleanly shaved-
"Ouch!"
Jerome snaps out of his thoughts, momentarily ignoring his moment of lust mixed with disgust. Airin's cry of pain brings his attention to her.
The young girl had grazed her hand over a sharp metal edge, and fresh blood spilt from the open cut on her palm.
A sweet, heavy scent occupies his nostrils, and Rome feels half of his sanity drop.
His eyes turned an eerie red, as did Ophelia's.
Lips parted, Ophelia comments as she stares greedily at Airin. "...I don't mind sharing. That is you, me, and her tonight. It will be more pleasurable than you think, brother."
With some sanity behind, Rome senses the bloodthirst Ophelia exudes. Beyond her lustful insinuations, Rome is sure his sister will try to eat a treat that is unwrapped accidentally.
And that means another Arrieht will die unknowingly. Of course, this newest one could survive... considering how his Father will protect his gift to present to a beast.
"Not a wise decision, Ophelia."
"But a very fun one, Rome." Ophelia smiles, then with an innocent grin, she turns around and begins walking away, roaming freely under the sun, unhindered, invisible to the gazes of many, though she is visible.
The most dangerous predators are not those hidden in the dark, for only unfortunate people who cross the dark would meet them. But the most dangerous are those roaming plain, freely, under public view, seen but unseen.
'W.E.A.V.E.R.S for example....'
Jerome had a silent monologue before he left quickly, afraid his further stay would affect his logic and convince him to do something foolish. The scent of an Arrieht's blood, once the red liquid had exited its thin enclosure, is far more intoxicating than most wine. And that was all the wine Jerome knew, except for the famed drinks the royal family drank in private.
.
.
.
"Deliver this draft to the Viscountess and seek her opinion if she perceives the dress in a favourable mind."
"Understood." Airin nods and collects the paper from Eren.
It was minutes after 6pm, and the designers were done finalizing the first draft, and Airin was tasked to present the draft to the Viscountess.
Airin walks out from the tailor's room, and by the directions of a few maids and servants, she passes through various areas in the building and finally arrives before the Viscountess' hall to her room.
The maid's description is somewhat confusing but Airin managed to find her way through the many turns and twists.
The long hallway is desolate, like the various paths Airin took to arrive before it.
'It would be better if there were maids around... This place is just too lonely. Prohibited huh? The nobles sure do have many nasty skeletons to hide from people. Which... No, the maid said it's the hall on the right.'
Airin walks forward, then pauses, turns around and walks in the opposite direction, then turns Walwalksck with a look of confusion. The young girl folds her arms and stands still.
"The right... Was it my right or her right? It should be mine, yes? How many lefts did I take- wait, the hall fits the description-- large, three doors, of gold and red... I should just..."
Airin mumbles confusedly, then after a short pause, she decides. Pointing to her right, she says with great conviction, "My right is right."
Airin resumes walking. "The most I could do is knock on the wrong door, meet the wrong person, then simply turn away to the other hall. After asking the right directions from the wrong person. Yes."
Airin's footsteps take a slight pause, "Did I just jinx myself?" Nevertheless, she marches onwards in certainty.
Airin walks to the end of the hall, and arrives before the third and last door, according to the maid's descriptions. She knocks on the large mahogany door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
She stands nervously and waits for the Viscountess to respond. Airin hopes their efforts are satisfactory to the Viscount's family. And that will be evaluated by Mrs. Rosenberg, the beautiful Viscountess.
The door opens slightly, and a voice rings out. "Who?"
Doe green eyes stare up at Airin's tall figure.
A surprised smile comes upon Ophelia's face "Airin?"
Airin, dumbfounded for a moment responds in a stutter. "Y-yes? S-sorry, I mean, I- um... Greetings, Young Miss." she gave a hurried bow.
"Call me Ophelia." The blonde lady smiles. "Come in," she gestures for Airin to come in.
Airin shook her head with a nervous smile. "I made a mistake. I was supposed to meet the Viscountess but came to the wrong room. I need to present-"
Before Airin could complete her sentence, Ophelia grabs her hand and pulls her in. Airin stumbles into the room in shock, partly because of the sudden pull and Ophelia's strong grasp. Being dragged suddenly was shocking, but it is surprising a young noblewoman can have such a strong grip, and much strength in her grip that has Airin stumbling like a thin thread under wind.
Airin subconsciously links the display of strength to gravity and the suddenness of the pull that caught her unguarded.
"Miss-!"
Ophelia shuts the door and grabs Airin's hand, dragging the young lady into the room with no hesitation.
"Excuse me, but I have a business to do!"
All words seem futile as Ophelia remains mute, simply dragging the young lady deeper into the large bedroom, regardless of Airin's struggle and blatant resistance.
Airin's anxiety and annoyance increases with each passing second, and with a burst of irritation, she shouts, "Satan be damned! Are you mute, lady?! A simple explanation could do or politeness! If you happen to forget your manners, let me remind you--"
"Shut up." Ophelia snaps. She releases Airin's hands but before Airin could breathe a sigh of relief, Ophelia pushes the young lady atop the bed.
Airin fell back in disbelief, her brain working hard to process the incredulity of the whole situation. Her grip on the book slackens, and Ophelia seized the moment to snatch the book. She threw it precisely atop her desk.
"What- unhand me, you madwoman!"
Ophelia chuckles lightly, "After you so graciously delivered yourself to me? No, thank you, dear."
Airin feels her brain circuits take a short break while trying to understand what is happening. But one thing she is sure of, as the blonde-haired demon climbs on her body and cling to her tightly, Airin knows she has to scream for help.
"Help!" Airin screams out. She drags Ophelia's hair, causing the latter to flinch in pain. With anger, Ophelia grips Airin's two hands with her hand and pins them on the bed.
'Shit. Should not have let go of the crazy girl's hair!'
While Airin's emotions rise in chaos, her thoughts moving in a frenzy, unbeknownst to her, her eyes were dyed a deeper shade of blue-green.
A sense of fear unlike ever experienced, one that steames from a prey's natural response to a destined predator emanates from within her.
It is a sense of dread that comes with the feeling of near death. A subtle acceptance to a painful inevitability and the resignation, fear, anger of such acceptance.
'Will I die- how can I die here?!'
Airin's vision flashes white as her heart thumps faster. All sounds grow muffled and she faintly hears the sound of indescribable chants. In her daze, she can feel a cold hand on hers and a very cold figure close to hers. The chill is too pronounced at this point when her senses are going numb and acting strange.
And Airin perceives... a very nauseous odour, like spilled blood, a fishy scent she perceives whenever she passes by the butcher's shop. The discomfort has her feeling like she is placed on a bed of needles.
She could not tell how much time passed, nor what is happening, but when Airin regained her clarity, she sees Ophelia lying on the bed, besides her in a deep slumber.
The blonde haired lady is burning hot and exuding a strong heat that Airin can feel but nothing else seems strange.
Airin stares blankly at the scene of Ophelia sleeping peacefully besides her. Retracing her memories, she can remember every detail but the moment after her scream for help, was like a cut tape in a movie.
"...What just happened?" She whispers to herself.
Ophelia stirs in her sleep and Airin jolts out of the bed in haste.
'No time to think, run! Run!'
Airin recalls the place Ophelia threw her book earlier, and she quickly grabs the book, not minding the document that she grabbed along with it.
Airin runs out of the room, almost stumbling on her steps in a desperate escape.