While we've done our best to make the core functionality of this site accessible without JavaScript, it will work better with it enabled. Please consider turning it on! God, Vanitas had been so stupid. Vanitas should have known better. He had known better, and still.
It had ruined everything. It had been the ripple that set the carefully-set trajectory of their uneasy partnership veering off course, from where it gyrated dramatically before barrelling on and crashing head-on into the nearest stone wall.
Or was he? So why did his heart hurt so much? It was the same feeling that the young Archiviste had felt once before when he saw Vanitas and Jeanne together. What was it? Wieso tat dann sein Herz so weh? Was war es nur? The aching pain in his chest makes him utterly confused and scared. And during the summer. A summer adventure I would never forget and that would change my life forever. Jeanne knew how to analyze an opponent in a single glance.
How to fight. How to endure, inflict, and protect others from pain. She knew many things, but there was still much more she had yet to discover. Like the feeling of soft lips moving passionately against her own, a clawed hand digging lightly into her waist, cold stone pressing into the arch of her backβ.
Vanitas always orders from Pizza Archiviste just for their delicious pizza and NOT to see the very handsome white haired delivery man with eyes like amethysts. The sight of the brightest blue hue, brighter than the mid-summer sky⦠hair darker than deepest nights⦠the lost twisting feeling churned around with the foggy memory. Somewhere within the Paris of the present lay another, equally as lost within a world, an empty spot where nobody fills Noe is a Painter.
