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[hr][center][h3]~1435 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE[/h3][/center][hr]
As it was, Saint George was taking a much needed vacation, watching a Broadway production of [i]She Kills Monsters[/i] with his pet rat. And what was there to worry about anyways? If a dragon was [i]dead[/i], it couldn’t have made for that big of a threat. Now the living dragons, those were the ones to be afraid of!

…

Not that the ramblings of a bygone saint meant much to the present situation.

Unseen and unheard, Edward was lost in his own little world as he sketched away at the skeletal dragon, noting the fantastical nature of its structure. Despite evidently taking its cue from fantasy and mythology, the size of the creature and the length of its skeleton-limbs seemed to beggar disbelief at how viable it truly was. If this truly was the ghost of a dead dragon, it certainly wouldn’t be able to fly, and its skull too seemed more reminiscent of a child’s approximation of a dinosaur than anything else. This, at least, despite its fearsome visage and impressive gouts of phantasmal flame, didn’t seem to match the necromancer’s own image of a city-destroying reptile…but perhaps that was for the better.

The beast continued to stalk its quarry, snaking around and warding off the ghostly parade that [url=https://safebooru.org/index.php?page=post&s=view&id=4123715]Celeste Arnaux[/url] attracted. Despite the tension around her, however, the pink-haired model handled herself well. Back straight, smile always on, she greeted guests and journalists one by one, the spotlights interspersed through the venue always seeming to catch her at just the right lighting to give her that sort of graceful yet dramatic mien. It reminded the reaper, for a moment, of Miss Death’s own countenance, yet wielded to a more exacting, deliberate effect. But beneath the exterior of an eminent fashion model laid too an uncertain fear. Her eyes traced the shadows interlacing with the crowds. Glided over the spotlights and the rafters. Searching, perhaps, for a sign of the fatal misfortune that had stalked her.

And then, stopping.

Vera could read it there, reflected in the woman’s blue eyes. Surprise. Recognition. And then…

The woman excused herself from her acquaintances, her steps gaining a click-clackering tempo as she maneveured herself through the room, each movement a bit faster than the next. The dragon trailed her, jaws swinging open, but the parade recognized the threat at a glance, the possibility of total annihilation.

Lucian saw her, of course. Saw Celeste walking right towards him, staring right [i]at[/i] him.

But he was eating cheese. As in, the cheese was in his mouth. As in, there shouldn’t be any floating cheese in the air, so he should totally just be invisible, which meant that she was obviously just looking at someone behind him.

Until, of course, she grabbed his [i]very[/i] tangible wrist and pulled him away with her off to an isolated corner of the venue. All it took was a few seconds, and she was looking at him once more, her eyes now mixed with shock and…something more calculating.

[b]“Lucian! Mon dieu, you’re supposed to be dead!”[/b]

…

Reddish-brown hair, parted and combed.

A well-tailored suit, one that yet managed to accentuate his decidedly average build.

And, most interestingly, a set of green eyes. The green of a murky lake.

Close to the stage, a young man watched the happenings in that isolated corner.

Then, he turned to the woman by his side and took her hand in his. Skin against leather.

They’d begin, soon.