Nocturne Summit ❁ And damnit, it's kinda weird

She spoke with an accent foreign to his countryman ears. Peasant was he in comparison to her aristocratic aura, for he would be cloaked in rags and she the finest of silk. It felt almost criminal to keep his sight upon her, and yet his eyes did not stray from her lovely form. 

She spoke of admiring the view to him, and in this he felt a twitch upon his ear. 

"Yes," came the low, gruff sound of his voice, "for it is a pretty view indeed." Even as the words parted from his lips did his gaze not stray. He held the figure of her as if she were an art piece framed in the halls of a museum, locked behind a bulletproof window. 

He took a step near, though was not yet close enough to extend his touch.