@ruffestthorston
The night was growing somewhat cold, reminiscent to those that danced over san ángel during the summer. the weather, however, did not dim the beauty of the parisian streets: a lilac sky, that similar to a most beautiful work of art, rested over grey zinc rooftops. the alleyways and palace-like structures remained comfortably silent, except for ----
“ ruby ! ” manolo called, hands around his mouth as to boost the noise. he stood underneath where the window of ruby’s room should be, guitar hanging on his back. however, he no longer insisted -- his hands naturally found their way around his back, bringing the instrument forwards and sending the fingers to its neck. the sound of three cords being struck opened, and, pleased with the outcome, the music and the words were quick to pour in.
“ ♫ ━ they say ruby, you're like a dream not always what you seem and though my heart may break when i awake let it be so, i only know RUBY, it's you ━ ♪ ”
