Alone Again - I
As night descended, Ansel ascended the dilapidated battlements, their surfaces still marred by expansive, mottled bloodstains.
Seraphina sat cross-legged atop the city wall, her gaze lifted to the sparse stars adorning the firmament.
Miss Wolf had neglected her coiffure for some time; her once neck-length tresses now cascaded over her shoulders. Heedless of appearance, her snow-white locks stood unruly, reminiscent of the most prominent ruff on a wolf's neck. Her sideburns, too, had grown to considerable length.
The howling, frigid wind swept her white forelocks behind her ears. In the throes of rapid maturation, much of her girlish naivety had imperceptibly waned. To most observers, her profile now exuded an awe-inspiring, even chilling, solemnity and majesty.
The glance from those dark crimson orbs was more than ordinary mortals could withstand.
Yet, when directed at a certain man, that predatory, glacial gaze would instantly melt.