Lupus In Fabula

[Fiorella de Marco]

"Even the most ordinary, mundane and seemingly boring matters can be executed with dedication, refinement and attention to detail, can they not?"

Once again, her voice played like a mellifluous instrument, the subtle cadence of each word laced with a deep tone. Her left hand fingers remained intertwined with his, a tactile link woven between them. Leaning gently into the backdrop of the wall, adorned with panels of exotic wood, she executed a delicate maneuver to draw him nearer. It was a gesture executed as a mere suggestion, requiring no overt force.

Her right hand, encased in a silk glove of black and gold opulence, extended toward his cheek. With a calculated care, mindful of the ornate claw gracing her middle finger to prevent any inadvertent scratch, she caressed his skin. Even as her eyes held a soft squint, her touch bore another layer.

Beyond the tangible connection, something more insidious unfolded. Just as her distinctive composure had a way of permeating previous encounters, a different facet now sought ingress into his thoughts. Emotions, to be precise. Amusement rippled through, mingling seamlessly with an aura of detachment toward others. Yet, it was the subtle undercurrent, shrouded and elusive, that spoke of something hidden for now.

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Fiorella Arianna de Marco | As Dawn Mayflower
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