fabricatedib:
Dearest, most beloved old fiend. Familiar is his dashing suit and charming, ill-brought smile. Though drained of color, and left with the usual bone and skin, still does he continue to stand agile in posture. Her memories differ little to his current image. And so this tiny child does one of the most oddest, strangest things unusual to her kind of nature. She smiles, faintly. A tiny curve as minuscule as the crescent moon during the darkest of nights.
"It’s been a while," quivers the gentle whisper of a petite female. Those traits seem to never change in her, do they? She promptly ignores his inquiry with another question of her own. "You’ve been well?"
- To say that Maxwell was one to forget past encounters would be an outright lie, a fabrication really. Not unlike what stood before him right now. Though was she a fabrication? A false being created up in the demon's mind? No, she was quite real. That was the danger of tossing around such a word. You could say how much something was not real, even if it stands in front of it. With those peculiar red eyes and red skirt with matching red shoes. So much red... it was almost starting to burn the demon's eyes.
"A while?" What a cool voice answered, a grin that was quick to reveal the emotions that the demon was feeling at the moment. Such things were quite usual for the demon. "A while perhaps for you, but perhaps for me, such things may have occurred yesterday for me. Time has a strange way of flowing, don't you agree... Ib?"
