Silver Moraine you were one of those classic ones

She felt suddenly light - it was as though her troubles had diminished under the wintry surface of his gaze, which beneath it held a warmth perhaps even he had not noticed. She knew that the moment they departed from within one another's presence her body would feel weary and exhausted once more, but the exhileration of his proposal would keep her distracted for the time being, and she relished each second she was still stood before him.

"A cycle and a half," She confirmed, swiftly nodding to his statement. The ghost would be waiting for him, standing amongst those wolves - a few twinges of guilt stole up to her mind, remaining within their ranks despite the promise of departing to join Cry on his quest, but the idea of it pushed away any negative thoughts. "Do not forget about me." The traces of a teasing smile crept upon her maw, faintly curling the corners of her lips up into a delicate sign of growing bliss. It was an odd thing that the assassin was able to tempt from the dark inside her head, the plague that cursed her body and mind.

There was just something about him that was able to bring any happiness to the surface, wherever it lay buried. Able to bring out that masked recklessness, a thrill that she'd missed dearly. He made her feel as though she meant something, she was not entirely worthless; in all her self hatred, the idea that she could feel as though, in some world, she belonged, was something she could never take for granted. And then, when the sound of his chuckle was ringing in her ears, the fallen empress did something she hadn't done in far too many moons - she chuckled back, eyes squinting a fraction and a glimmer dancing like a school of silvery fish in the depths of her blue gaze. Perhaps it was not his words that caused the sound, but the tingles she could feel like butterflies in her stomach. She was so terribly glad that the man had found her when he did.