"Do not touch me, I don’t require affection from anyone."
The words themselves had been audible though it was not entirely admissible. It was a question that concerned around the obvious factor that the Red Queen herself held no motivation to surround herself around something so obnoxiously trivial that it was all the more questionable in cases such as now. The male immediately found the hips of his own tiers curving upwards in obvious amusement. With an obvious — yet failed — attempt in keeping his own visage as calm and tamed as he attempted to be, there was an obvious fact that as he continued to move along his pose. She stood before him, eyes narrowed and a furious facade that traced her porcelain features — he did nothing more than merely peer at her in a cheeky matter. He’d crouched downwards only to pause to peer up at her in visible amusement. His digits caressed the surface of the gravel only to tip his raven locks to one side.
"Do not touch me, I don’t require affection from anyone."
”Perhaps not affection, yet merely attention.” Words that lingered as his tongue pressed against the roof of his own mouth, expressing obvious disapproval towards the queen — though hidden beneath the crevices of his own disdain, held an undeniable grin that lingered along the very hips of his own lips. There was a pause for a moment in which he pulled upon one of the singular pieces that had been discarded so simply upon the ground and merely picked it up before him — and the shoe that had been so carelessly tossed to one side. Amidst the obvious care that had been given to a shoe so elegant upon the obvious simplicity — he stood then and listened to the faint echoing of his own joints creaking miserably. Strength that had been preserved for far too many years, and life itself that had worn into bones that knew nothing of the simple life but one of war.
"But of course, you musn’t leave so soon without — taking your slipper."
In all honesty, the tone was rather mocking. She was no Cindrella for that itself was the wrong fairy tale the two had escaped from. Though the very woman did become Queen of that story, this very queen was on the run. Or so, it would appear — in a rush in which her porcelain toes would whisk her away into the nothingness of this disgusting world. Yet she merely stared at the foot that now was naked beneath the fabrics of her own slacks. She had merely stood, with a gaze so powerful yet all the more apparent in her dissatisfaction for such a shoe to have been slipped from her very foot in such ease. ”And to what, may I ask, are you to do with my shoe?”
Dark pools that inevitably pulled from the surface now lingered upon her own gaze, pausing momentarily, waiting for the violet eyed male to respond in the same careless manner as had been accomplished before.
"Attempt to return it where it belongs, you see. For how could you walk to and from if you lack a single shoe? Shall I carry you far, as far as the eye can tell?"
