Excuse Him

Grey pools lingered on the artwork that would be her key to succeeding. Once he began to speak to her, she let her eyes follow his dark skin up to the windows of his soul. Returning the smile, she giggled internally. “Oh, I will do my best not to.” Walking over to look at the work closer, she touched the corner with her index finger, then yanked it back- as if it were poisonous. Rubbing her index finger together with her thumb, a soft grunt escaped.

“Loyalty is a tough thing to find,” the words fell under her breath, only loud enough for Isai to hear. It was partly a comment to herself- in reflection of the relationship that Artem and her were beginning to build. What would the costs eventually be? No one really knew now, not even her. She hardly knew what would come of their relationship at all.

The heat from the buzz still filled her with warmth, which proved the long sleeves of her dress to be suffocating. The feeling still allowed her to be filled with a slight giddy mood- as if it was all fun and games.

Attention was pulled away from the work in front of her, and Isai, when the cluttering noises came through the door. Drawing her eyes over to the entrance, they immediately dropped at the sight of the man with his mouth sewn shut. "Now, go on. Give that to your master." As if providing permission to look once more, she did. Winifred rested her eyes on the pleasant feminine features that had been paired with a young feminine voice. Gasping in awe at the dress that was before her, she placed a delicate, but dirty, hand over her mouth.

It was everything a girl could dream in comparison to the deep, drab, high collar, traditional, purple, laced up dress she wore. Clearing her throat she let a full smile settle on her face. "Hello my Lords and Lady. I heard you might be looking for a new set of attire?" “Oh, yes. Yes, we are,”[/i] the words squeaked out with a girlish squeal to follow. Just as quickly as the joy overwhelmed her, it was replaced with embarrassment.

“Is this really the woman you’ve hired to make our clothes? She seems rather.. odd if you know what I mean.” If looks could kill, Artem would be dead. Though, in his defense, she did seem odd. But it wasn't proper to impose judgment on someone- especially in the dealings of things they can't help. Looking back, it was startlingly hypocritical for Winifred to be snappy with Artem. Winifred was more than judgmental; to be frank, she was a bitch in most cases.

In hopes to replace the words he spoke with joy, she stepped forward. Her petite silver wings fluttered with her walk, and she brushed back a lock of hair before offering a wave. “Hello, I am Winifred, and that,” pausing a moment to take in a long breath, “-that is Artem.” Gesturing towards her companion with a slight wave, she smiled sweetly.