the manor and all its inhabitants unwind in the deepest of slumbers — save for the little gentleman and his winning playmate; two figures dressed in the hue of night stride through the depraved corridors of bly.
❛ there’s something wrong with this place , ❜ laura’s voice pierces through the dark, voice carrying several feet from behind. her pace having fallen out of harmony with his own, miles comes to a pause. is there a dulcet uncertainty that he detects in her cadence ? could she detect the slight pickle of centuries of undying decadence ? ❛ scared , laura ... ? ⠀ ❜ the boy croons into nothingness. his round, cherubic features are kindled as intrigue manifests upon them, wherein a playful twist of the mouth ensues: teeth bared — this smile seems one of a virile nature [ belonging to a stranger rather than that of a boy ].
❛ afraid something might come out and bite you ... ? ⠀ ❜ miles taunts further. ❛ don’t be silly. ⠀ ❜
✧ * @plasticked › LAURA.