#m:answer

my muse’s reaction to your muse -

❤ - kissing them:

Eunji blinked. This is new.

Absently, she patted her cheek in confusion. The slightest brush of warmth from petal-soft lips still remained, and she couldn’t for the life of her understand what had brought that on. But it- Well, there had been something particularly tender about it, about affection given freely with no expectations in return, and when she blinked this time before looking away briefly it had nothing to do with surprise. Eunji didn’t say a word, but her answering smile spoke volumes.

A hand, finding his slender one, squeezed tightly.

♢ - reading them a story:

It lilted, she noticed, and it was something wonderful to listen to. Hyacinthe’s voice - quiet and soft and smooth and almost as if he were talking about dreams, legends of old instead of a story from a book - both pulled her into the plot and detracted her from it all at once, and it was unsettling and comforting at the same time. Quiet for a moment, Eunji poked lightly at a bony knee before settling a hand on the joint. Reluctant though she was to stop listening, it was only fair to offer him a break.

“My turn.”

✏ - teaching them a different language:

Eunji, in a rare occurrence that very few would ever see, pouted.

She was good with languages usually - they’d always been interesting, and being raised in a family that valued rank in high society had certainly helped. And it wasn’t even the grammatical rules of French that eluded her, no, she understood those well and clear - it was, of all things, slang. Colloquial usage. Banal things, really. When she turned to see Hyacinthe, patient as ever but unmistakably amused, she huffed.

“Let’s stop now - before I manage to screw up your mother tongue even more, hm?”