[size=9pt]He sees the fire. At first, a small crease forms between his brows, because he's not sure if his eyes are playing tricks on him or not, but then his face falls blank and he looks back up to Feyre. He knows witchcraft. Meaning he knows voodoo. It runs in the family-- His blood family. But it's been long since he's seen the deep set eyes of Malkia, and he knows nothing of it, himself. And the Okoye's never specialized in fire; they worshiped something more crimson, something that dripped. Feyre wasn't them.
A grin starts to spread on his face, shocked and humbled and small all the same. He holds her gaze for long enough for her to get the hint, before she asks if he's okay and he drops his hand from his face and pipes, "Peachy." with pearly whites bared and a voice sweeter than Pancakes that you accidentally spilled too much syrup on. He's not a rat, he won't say shit; he hopes she knows that.
"Good to meet you, Fey." An instant nickname. There was no going back, now. "I'm Moon." He speaks, and usually has more to say for himself, but Imperia passes before him and with her comes that whiff of lavender and suddenly he's forgotten how to use his mouth for anything other than grasping at empty air. Golden eyes follow her steps as she goes to her locker, and its only when he's tracking the length of her hair down her back like a massive fucking weirdo that he remembers she's smiled at him. She's smiled and him and he's missed it. Fuck. "And that's Miss Arceneau, herself."
He manages to glance back at Feyre, but it's more so out of paranoia that she's witnessed his complete malfunction than anything else. But if she's seen anything-- he's keeping her secret, she better know to keep his. "But, yeah, you're right. Pretty nightmarish. Dreamier things exist in this school, that's for sure." If he's talking about the President of Student Body herself, it's his own business. Not his fault he's whipped. He's asked her on more than one occasion to put her Presidency skills to use with his student body, in particular, but it flies over her head every fucking time. Either that, or she's not interested in the slightest. Which, who could blame her? All he's got going for him is a 4.0 gpa and so many cuts and bruises even the skater boys don't want to associate with him. Fuck their high-top Vans, anyway. The black eye looked good on him.
"How'd you end up here?" The hallways are starting to empty as the bell rings, and he slides down the lockers 'till he's seated on the ground, staring up. The doors to the classes close around them, but he wills them to forget their education, just this once. He feels like talking to a girl with fire in her hands, and it's sacrilegious to him to pass up on an opportunity to get Imperia to look his way. It's the one thing that stands between him and Atheism. "Fall from heaven, like Peri? Lotta' rich kids come our way for the--" he pauses, clearly cynical, [b]"Experience."
A grin starts to spread on his face, shocked and humbled and small all the same. He holds her gaze for long enough for her to get the hint, before she asks if he's okay and he drops his hand from his face and pipes, "Peachy." with pearly whites bared and a voice sweeter than Pancakes that you accidentally spilled too much syrup on. He's not a rat, he won't say shit; he hopes she knows that.
"Good to meet you, Fey." An instant nickname. There was no going back, now. "I'm Moon." He speaks, and usually has more to say for himself, but Imperia passes before him and with her comes that whiff of lavender and suddenly he's forgotten how to use his mouth for anything other than grasping at empty air. Golden eyes follow her steps as she goes to her locker, and its only when he's tracking the length of her hair down her back like a massive fucking weirdo that he remembers she's smiled at him. She's smiled and him and he's missed it. Fuck. "And that's Miss Arceneau, herself."
He manages to glance back at Feyre, but it's more so out of paranoia that she's witnessed his complete malfunction than anything else. But if she's seen anything-- he's keeping her secret, she better know to keep his. "But, yeah, you're right. Pretty nightmarish. Dreamier things exist in this school, that's for sure." If he's talking about the President of Student Body herself, it's his own business. Not his fault he's whipped. He's asked her on more than one occasion to put her Presidency skills to use with his student body, in particular, but it flies over her head every fucking time. Either that, or she's not interested in the slightest. Which, who could blame her? All he's got going for him is a 4.0 gpa and so many cuts and bruises even the skater boys don't want to associate with him. Fuck their high-top Vans, anyway. The black eye looked good on him.
"How'd you end up here?" The hallways are starting to empty as the bell rings, and he slides down the lockers 'till he's seated on the ground, staring up. The doors to the classes close around them, but he wills them to forget their education, just this once. He feels like talking to a girl with fire in her hands, and it's sacrilegious to him to pass up on an opportunity to get Imperia to look his way. It's the one thing that stands between him and Atheism. "Fall from heaven, like Peri? Lotta' rich kids come our way for the--" he pauses, clearly cynical, [b]"Experience."
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]