stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Prego he replied smoothly that it certainly did not sound bad. Prego? It took only a second but she got to that level of offence she rarely ever did. "I am absolutely not!" That was a first, she couldn't say she had ever been called pregnant before. She almost looked down at her stomach to make sure it was still flat, but she refused. It did not stop her from tilting her chin upward in a clear harumph. Apparently, she knew her thank yous but not you're welcome. A few short moments of internal seething later he was drawn to her sketchbook. More importantly, she noted how he treated it with gentle respect like he was holding a precious flower. Each page was certainly not as fragile as he was treating it but the effort to keep those precious pages unmarred was appreciated all the same. The man seemed to move through the world with a care that most people did not. Those silent observations about the king were kept to herself as those astute violet eyes remained upon him while distracted with her artwork. It was the topic of his brother that captured her interest momentarily as the topic of brothers arose.

It was impossible not to notice the clearcut frown that crossed his features on the subject when she inquired if they were close. Really, it was a harmless question that he took more consideration than it was due. Yet this was clearly something he had long accepted. He admitted that he cared for the man that was his brother even though they were two entirely different people. So close but not. Harley dipped her head in a nod of understanding. "Hey, that is more than some families. I get it." She stated without judgement. If only her brother could afford her the same acceptance, maybe then they could be closer. But there was no sense beating a dead horse and the hunter appeared to be even more stubborn in his convictions than even her. The topic then faded naturally back to her book, his attention focused on her personal art, far deeper in than she thought he would go. It was like an experiment to try to read his expressions, to read his thoughts over the heavenly cup of coffee she contently sipped. How much of her, her outlook, and understanding of the world were displayed within those pages, obscurely hidden behind her subjects, imagined, interpreted or real. It was easy to miss. Just like her, behind all the quick wit, heavy sarcasm, violet eyes, tattoos and the bravado.

It was finally that compliment that she couldn't veil that amused snort. That compliment sounded so very political that her lips quirked upward as if amused by it. At least it was polite. She admitted that she was convinced that her art was certainly not his cup of tea. One that was met with a dismissive shrug from him, the gesture didn't quite seem to match the king and yet somehow made him all the more relatable. He offered her his own explanation. He apparently seemed far more passionate about the subject than the shrug implied. Almost like he was trained one way but felt another. Hm. She liked his far more open answer and as much as she would have loved to have found some obvious flaw to call out. But he did have a point, much to her own chagrin. He was difficult to frown at. As if he exuded a level of goodness that had long been deficient in the world. What the hell was he doing in a place like this? Dorian's warm smile was gentle, just like the rest of him. "That's a very open-minded way to look at things. I think I might have misjudged you." Now it was her turn to half-shrug lightly, ignoring the fact that she had just admitted she was wrong. Yet somehow, in this rare case, she almost appreciated being wrong. Even that bullshit meter of hers could be faulty and even she could be hasty to judge just as quickly as people judged her.

The Italian king then fell silent.

The silence was unnerving, even with a pleasant face. She took another sip of her coffee to fill the silence and then eyed his hands upon her sketchbook, giving the man a moment to look in peace. She distracted herself with her own amusing thoughts that she was pulled out of with that rather perceptive observation of his own as he commented on her use of greyscale. No one had noticed that before. At least no one did and commented on it. Harley considered his words and offered her own surprisingly honest reply that he seemed to at least understand her point of view and saw no need to add. His opinions were kept close to his own chest. She was quite sure that most kings were not like this one.

Dorian then gently offered her book back to her, one she reached for, content for it to be closed and at her side once more. His decidedly kind silver eyes rested upon her as he pulled out his own book, to draw. He cracked it open to a blank page. An open canvas, the most daunting and exciting thing to an artist. Only one other had drawn her before and yet that was without her knowing. This felt... far more exposed, considering she was wide awake and he was a veritable stranger.

That unnerving silence didn't linger as he then filled it with a prompt to speak. About herself. Oh god. This. She hated the vagueness of it.. and worse, how it lacked any form of organic flow. As if she were nothing more than a list. Those facts, those little lifeless morsels that said nothing of her, not truly. Or so she thought. Her face scrunched with brief distaste before swiftly concealed with her sarcastic question, asking if her aura was being difficult. One that was answered at face value. One she almost wish she hadn't known the answer to so she didn't have to know how expressive her aura was for the man who could see them. Could her aura reel it in? Really? Apparently, mystery was not one of its finer skill sets.

The fae king claimed he asked that if only to find out if she saw herself clearly. "I might not know what the colours of my soul look like, but I know what I am made of and who I am." She was certain that there wasn't anything Dorian could see that she did not already know. No one knew her better, it was how it should be. The raven-haired woman at least decided to humour him a little, herself included. Almost curious about what kind of things she could say in as few words as possible. Those words were still spoken in that lightly sarcastic lilt to her voice to void any seriousness to the subject. It was when she was finished that he claimed he was surprised by her honesty. They were just words, superficial glimpses at best.. But it was how he spoke about how people did not speak so honestly with him, especially the part where he said he found it, fascinating. That caused a brow to raise in open scepticism. "Guess, I'm happy to fascinate." The she-feline then stretched a little, as if to try and rid herself of the kinks that started to settle. " On the subject of honesty, I am not all that thrilled imagining what my aura is doing. Will it stop being so revealing if I... shut up?" She tilted her head, truly curious of that answer. She really didn't like the idea of being under a stranger's microscope. Besides talking about yourself for any length of time was... exhausting.

So, in true Harley fashion, she boldly turned a question back onto him, all while he drew, almost damning the fact that even from the slightly elevated spot that she sat, she couldn't see much beyond the medium he chose.

She was blissfully unaware of her political faux pas, not that she would have let it stop her from asking it. It caused yet another frown to appear upon the fae's face. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to frown all that much, but she seemed to bring that out in people. Was it because he was surprised by her question or was it because she had the balls to ask it? Or something else entirely? Or maybe his answer made him frown. She studied his features as she sipped her coffee once more, letting her dangling leg swing idly off the tattoo chair, content not to hear the sound of her own voice.

He answered that question with clear consideration. That he didn't know any differently, so how would he know otherwise? That was both tragic and somehow a mercy all in one. You could not miss what you never had. But that didn't stop people from longing for what they didn't. Was that not the same? Or was longing different from merely never truly considering it? She could only imagine how his childhood must have been. Even weirder, imagining Matteo interacting with a child. He spoke as he sketched as if it made the words flow far easier that way. How she was surprised he didn't leave the answer at that. That mention of freedom seemed to garner far more of a response from the man. How she actually felt bad for him for a moment. That was not something Harley thought to have with someone born with a silver spoon hanging from their lips.

"I would be interested to see what that version of you was like too. Especially after meeting you now. Besides, in a way... you showing up here was an act of freedom. No one told you to do so and yet you did. Might not be much to some, but it's something. Considering tattoos are taboo in some places. Think of the scandal." Smirked, amusement flickered within her vivacious eyes. "You walking into a tattoo parlour is honestly a big step up from ordering a sandwich, just saying. Even if you didn't know what you were walking into." There was a hint of a tease laced within those words. In truth, she had forgotten he was still drawing. She forgot that her aura might have been doing some elaborate Swedish jig.

The raven-haired spitfire exhaled a breath that pushed through her lips. Her mind drifted, only for a moment. As it was Dorian's words that plucked her out of her own very short-lived reverie. She froze, staring at the fae as he spoke... about her. How she thought he might only say a few words when he was finished. She didn't expect him to share his scientific findings. He didn't even hold back. But with every flaw, he seamlessly added a positive. It was like he knew how to handle fragile egos or something. For once, she was at a true loss of what to say. She was near bursting, unsure whether to be angry, surprised, deflective or use that sarcasm as a shield. Just as he said. There wasn't a damn person that figured all of this out, especially within such a short time. Not a damn one. Let alone a stranger.

"My aura told you all that? That seems a little unfair." She questioned incredulously as she frowned, suddenly feeling seen by a stranger. She didn't like it one bit. It made her feel stripped. No wonder why people didn't like it when she noticed things about them that they didn't want to know. The mention of her parents, and her family, created a tendril that wrapped around her heart and started to squeeze. She refused to feel it. Not in front of some guard or a man who likely wouldn't remember her name in a week. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever. She slid into that confident, sarcastic bold mask. He claimed she was a good person. Well, that was shockingly new to hear. But why was it.... nice to hear it? Almost like she had begun to question that very thing herself. Fuck. She stubbornly refused to admit he was right... Reckless, impatient, stubborn. Nothing new. Really, Dorian might have been the only being in the world to not to make it sound like an insult. Perhaps it was all entwined perfectly with intelligence, bold, passionate and the man spoke the truth.

It felt like her defences were stripped clean from her. But there he went using that word again, lovely. It didn't get any less strange to hear it. She was at a loss at what to say. She couldn't quite deny it, she was quite sure he could see through that. Instead, she risked a question in the hopes that it didn't come off too vulnerable. "Did you find anything.... weird?" She almost cursed herself for asking it. Subjecting herself to that answer and yet... curiosity would surely kill this cat one day. That was nothing new.

Anything else she might have said was silenced as Dorian's hands moved across his sketchbook. It was definitely magic that came to life when his fingertips touched that page, as it bloomed across the page. Woah. Now that was cool. She wished she could see it happen up close,, closer to witness how it danced across the page in its intricate glory. She still couldn't see much, but she could see the bright hues from here.

Once done, that fellow artist then offered her the image. She placed her cup on the table before she leapt off her perch like an agile cat as she closed the distance between them to observe what he had done. Harley looked at it like it wasn't actually her, but it unmistakably was. Every last detail, even down to the smirk she knew she wore but rarely ever saw it looking back at her. She meant it when she said he was good.. he was more than that.

For a moment, she seemed lost to the colours that wove together around her. She almost had expected it to be kind of cheesy, but it wasn't. She could swear she could almost expect that drawing to talk back. He captured her. She didn't know that a stranger could. But he did. That and he made her.... Look.. Well..

"Holy shit, Dorian. I like it, a lot. You made me look smoking hot." She almost sounded smug about it too.

But her gaze snagged within the kaleidoscope of colours. Red she seemed to get.. it usually equalled passion, anger. The violet seemed to match her eyes but surely that meant something more than just that. She was clueless about what it all meant beyond that. All of those colours looked like they should have clashed but they didn't. Not with how his magic captured them. It was almost like he read her mind, but she was sure he got it enough to preemptively offer insight on those colours. Good, she was going to ask anyways. Certain that anyone would half a brain would want to know what those colours meant.

"Red is anger and passion, right? What does the grey and gold mean?" How she almost wanted to know everything. But there were two colours that stood out most of all. How she almost expected it to be... darker.. Nefarious. It was easier to imagine for some reason with all the shit she had seen, done, and experienced. Surely at least some of that hell that touched her, had corrupted her in some visible way. She was taken aback. Not expecting to see this gorgeous array of effervescent colours, to see herself through someone else's eyes and a whole lot more. "Is that what your power is, to copy people's auras? My soul isn't trapped in here. Is it?" She read that book in school. Dorian Gray. Hopefully, it was only purely coincidental that was her companion's name too. Well shit, she probably should have asked that before.

Harley Westward