They were strange girls, the Usami sisters—brewing all sorts of rumors whenever they strayed from home, shrouded in so much myth and mythicisim one could not untangle the truth from the lie any longer, and it makes his nails all the more eager to sink into something soft and peel back the layers underneath to find what was real. Baeksa had many talents, few which the world was aware of—but reading people had always been his favorite one. The way she shrinks into herself, as if trying not to be seen, like a small sparrow that had fallen from its nest, it brings him much joy. There was little of her, he fathoms, if anything, that was pretense—safe for what ailed her young mind, and that only made her all the more appetizing to his hungry teeth, did it not?
Footsteps echo, a faint, deliberate sound, light and airy as lord Baeksa carries himself as if he floated above solid ground, above the earth and all that plagued it, with all the phantasmagorical beauty and gait of an apparition, flimsy nightgown flowing like a river beneath the delicate arch of his shoulders, unspooling upon itself in waves, in silky layers, as his long hair fell down the boy's pronounced clavicle. He spots her like a predator spots a secret deer, and how he has longed to approach—but timing is of essence with creatures such as Minako. He understands that, and falls back into the skin of something meek an unalarming. His large doll eyes blink at her, as if unwitting, a soft vowel rounding on the plush shape of his lips as Baeksa halts, pale hand brushing against his sternum. "My lady," the young lord bowed lest she had a chance to flee, strategically placed in a way that would need her circling him to reach the exit, in a graceful, meek way that had white wisps cloaking the delicate sides of his face, hiding the cruel insincerity of his cruel, jealous eyes beneath a veil of coy allure. "If I may be so bold as to beg... please stay," tentatively, he steals a glance from beneath the gauzy softness of his lashes, doll eyes admiring the horror of her beauty, his voice a soft coo in the quiet room. "I've been roaming these halls restlessly, and my feet seem to have carried me here... to this room, to you," how harmlessly he phrases, holding his head low, as if he were just another moth who had fluttered in, following the light. "I feel a strange sense of peace here, in your presence... if you allow me to remain, I promise not to disturb you."
