it’s nights like these she feels the most lonely. her heart does not beat, she is not alive, but genevieve finds herself longing for companionship in a world that has been cruel to her. there are many reasons why she isolates herself in her poppy house, why she became a recluse after rose’s brutal death. she had nothing and no one - except for frederick. where most nights, genevieve would remain at the lounge and brothel, tonight, she needed a friend. a confidant. someone she trusted and knew she didn’t need to be weary of. with the hood of her cloak pulled over her long, raven hair, genevieve traveled in the moonlight to the man’s home, knocking quietly against his door, giving him a furrowed browed stare, her lilac eyes nearly glowing from the night’s illumination. ‘ i am sorry to disturb you, i know it is late... ’ she slowly removes her hood so he can take a better look at her saddened features. ‘ i needed someone to talk to, ’ @nimbles.
