It was clear to anyone watching that the heavy gaze of Ren on her was flustering the huntress, her eyes flickering to the side a few times before looking back to see herself being admired. This young woman was obviously not used to being prized in such a way—praised and encouraged, yes, but not so keenly studied as though she were a beautifully carved marble statue.

Lyselle flinched slightly at feeling Ren pull at the cord before clearing her throat, trying to act as though she wasn’t surprised, but it was all she could manage under the vampiress’ watch. Hearing the laugh caught her off guard again—different than before—as she noted how genuine it sounded compared to a predator’s chuckle. It was musical even, forcing a smile to tug at the hunter’s lips. Then she watched the centuries-old woman lean forward—closer—and Lyselle felt a familiar warmth glow against her cheeks as she shifted, trying not to give away her deep-buried secret.

What was that secret? Deep inside her heart, Lyselle had once admitted to herself that the idea of teeth sinking into her neck could somehow be romantic, though she felt ever-ashamed of it. After all, vampires were evil and manipulating, and the Vigil taught whole classes on how they used charm to seduce victims. The mark she bore on her chest was meant to repel those very glamours, and she’d even trained on recognizing the feeling of influence washing over her—so she’d always know when to steel her mind and heart. Ren was decidedly not doing this, and yet her embarrassing thought still crossed her mind the moment Ren said for you.

There was something deeply alluring about hearing those words—like she had somehow become the center of this ancient vampiress’ world—and no matter how sinful it might’ve been, it caused her to grin slightly. Certainly enough for Ren to notice. Her thoughts of the Universe—like a small child playing with blocks, toying with fate to link them together—were rather amusing in their own right. Though calling it a sick joke felt too harsh to Lys, who instead wondered if it meant something more. These two were having a conversation, civilly, with no ill intent from either side—was this meant to bridge the gap? Were vampires no more evil than the hunters who pursued them with hate? The huntress had always wondered from whence the condition came, but it was older than even Ren, dating back millennia as far as she could guess.

Eventually she broke from her thoughts to refocus on the woman across from her, offering another small, shier smile.
[color=#9BA7C3][b]“I guess we’re bound by some sort of fate—to figure this out. I… I appreciate you sparing his life. It’s true I haven’t ever seen a vampire spare… anyone… b-but I’m young still… and not even a fully ordained hunter.”[/b][/color]
A quiet pause, then a short snicker.
[color=#9BA7C3][b]“Probably won’t ever be, now. I’m… a heretic, maybe? Heh.”[/b][/color]

A hand reached up to comb through her black hair sheepishly, twirling a strand around her finger.
[color=#9BA7C3][b]“Who knows how long before I get used to that. Though I suppose there’s no use fighting it, is there? Even if I left…”[/b][/color]

She bit her lower lip, thinking for several long moments, looking into Ren’s eyes.
[color=#9BA7C3][b]“If I had the willpower to leave… my whole worldview has been shifted. I probably wouldn’t last long in the Vigil without pretending—or burying this feeling deep inside…”[/b][/color]

An exhale slipped from her lips, her bewilderment painted clearly across her face—and it shivered down the string between them. Lyselle could hardly believe how honest she was being.