cyril ☓ rosaline; // bond
The girl he kept seeing, she appeared in his dreams. Just passing by, then flashing a dark smile to him. Sometimes her smiles are genuine, sometimes she doesn't smile at all as if she hadn't seen him standing right in front of him. Just walking past as if he was invisible. Sometimes she'd look different, but it was vivid to him that it is indeed the same girl. The only thing he could make of our of her is her eyes. Dark, just as his, even though that doesn't describe the color of their eyes. Just sheer emptiness, sometimes almost soulless.
As strange as these dreams could be, what he saw the next few days were odd. She was there, standing just in front of him in the long queue. And right then Cyril knew that she was one of his kinds as well, (and he was quite pleased since he hadn't met any for a while) the heat emerging from her body felt strong. He knew he hadn't met anyone with such temperature-- last time he felt it was when he met his mother. But that was the last. Maybe the dreams signed something, wanting him to be aware of a new ally or a new enemy; and he only has to make sure.
He was bad at indicating conversations as nobody could be, hesitantly reaching out to tap the girl's small shoulder. You should be confident, he told himself, you're Cyril, for fuck's sake, he reminded again, but instead his fingers nervously dug into his palms when he retreated his hand.
Although knowing that the stranger could sense him too, judging by her uncomfortable fidgeting, he felt as if it would take down his pride if she turned around first. Any normal demons could feel the aura emitted by their own beings, a way to identify each other. Thus that, by any means, suggests being aware if the other was an friend or foe, but Cyril took the advice in his head to trust him on this that she wasn't the one he would burn to death. The demon tried sending a telepathic message to her, but it didn't get through. He furrowed his eyebrows. Just how strong could this one be?