majestiies - continued from (x)

Those red eyes always unnerved her, bearing a familiar face but none of his spirit. 

So she turns, head held aloft as she gazes at her hero’s shadow.

           ❝ That is not yours, and your hands are cold. ❞

        “Oh, I can think of plenty of things that aren’t mine, yet I take them anyway.”

Offering up a toothy, devilish smile, the shadow rubs his hands together as if to try and warm them, pretending to shiver away despite feeling nothing.

        “They won’t be cold for long; promise. I’m sure that a light as radiant as yours can easily warm any man to his core - even a poor, depraved soul like myself. How about it, Princess~?”