His long-fingered hand stretches out slowly, languidly, and he gently plucks the locket off her chest. He rolls the piece of gold about in his fingertips, eyes shut, and she considers punching him.
"Whose hair is it?" His speech is soft, silken against the night breezes, though it is also abrupt and sharp, an aberration in the quiet of the evening. "In your necklace?
She licks her lips, for they have become dry. "It's none of your business," she says, and her voice cracks strangely over the words, she has no idea why. That it comes from her state of nerves does not occur to her at all – she idly blames it on the conditions of her surroundings and the handsome young man in front of her, because, like it or not, she thinks that Hansard Kray is rather nice to look at.
"Really, Valkyrie? It's that personal?"
She sighs. "It's a memento from my last lover."
"Oh? You are no longer together, and yet you hold on to his memory?" Hansard raises an eyebrow.
"I like to remind myself of the people I've killed," she says, smiling and reclaiming the locket of Caelan's hair, savoring Hansard's expression of horror.
A/N: Kehe :3
~Mademise Morte, December 6