Her scarred hands twitched imperceptibly as she plucked the glass from his grasp, face as unreadable as the statues in the museum not too far away. It almost felt like a dream -- unreal and untrustworthy, the scene that played out before her. It was not her right, to meet with Roman upon the rooftop, god-like conspirators deciding the fate of the mortals that milled about below them. More and more often she had to remind herself that she had not always been a god, but had once been something unrecognizable and unworthy. Roman had been gifted with his so-called divinity, Rafaella, however, had bled for it.
Taking a sip from her glass, she narrowed her eyes at his apology -- the alcohol suddenly turning bitter in her mouth. Did he really
Taking a sip from her glass, she narrowed her eyes at his apology -- the alcohol suddenly turning bitter in her mouth. Did he really