kissing death and loosing my breath

The young witch could quite honestly say she had never met anyone quite like the dark hunter behind her. She could feel his hand upon the top of the back of her chair, causing her to lean back in a fashion that her neck brushed against his knuckles as she stared absentmindedly at the crowd that surrounded him. Serafina was always purposefully taking every moment to touch him in a flippant fashion if only because she was amused by the fashion in which she seemed to repel him, even though she could see right through the facade he placed before the world. He offered a frigid exterior in response of a life she could only begin to imagine. She hardly blamed him for it, however, and though she had originally found him as nothing more then a challenge to master, somehow, between then and now, he had become something else. His words catch her attention, bring a small simper to her face even if she refused to show it, instead directing her own eyes to the crowd at large. See, he did care, in his own, perhaps obscure fashion. "He isn't here. I assume he's dead by now. And if not then surely I'll be soon enough and then you won't have to fret about not being friends." She replied simply enough though in truth she was hardly concerned of her own life. Davante had assured her the matter had been taken care of and at the sight of his wounds she...mostly believed him.

Her stormy gaze glance upward at the rare sound of approval that left the Dark Hunters lips. Noting the fashion that the fleeting smile settled upon his lips. "Thank you." She replied, offering him a bright grin before her attention was entirely redirected by a familiar figure entering the periphery of her grey tinged eyes. Her head turned towards him, tilting to the side in a vague moment of curiosity. It seemed fitting that he would appear only moments after she had declared he would come if he wanted her. Almost as if he could read her mind. For a moment she considered adding telepathy to her mental list of powers he might hold but the thought was forgotten the moment that his hand reached out to her, a mischievous grin upon his lips. Serafina was hardly offered even a moment to react to the gesture, however, before the sharp sound of a crack behind her pulled her attention away from the warlock in front of her and back towards Dark Hunter behind her. She could feel several of the smaller splinters falling down the front of his chair, dragging against her naked back as they fell. A single small scratch marring her perfect porcelain spine, blood beading to the surface though failing to fall. "Azzy?" She inquired softly, a glance of concern crossing her fair feminine features.

She watches him step forward, her eyebrows furrowing momentarily as her gaze switches back and forth between the two. The corner of her lips dipping in a small frown at Azrael's insistence that Davante was breaking some kind of dress code. A soft snort left her lips as she rose to her feet, "He's better dressed then you are." She replied bluntly, her arms crossing beneath her bosom in a pout. "You must be breaking a billion dress codes." If anything, the young girl was quite stubborn, unwilling to let either one leave when all she had wanted was someone to dance with her and out of the pair, only Davante seemed willing. She was curious to how this was going to play out, willing to let Davante offer his own rebuttle before she bothered to get involved.