#vc. august

"i can't believe you never told me you were cornelius hackl in new york," the movements of her hand, though avid, are delicate — fingers that had been trained to drink from fine china and play with porcelain since a very young age. even in her excitement vedia lends the impression of something delicate, her voice full of a certain breathlessness, as if the very idea had reached past her ribs and stolen the air there. "oh, it must have been simply gorgeous! i can't even begin to imagine it. what was it like — will you tell me everything?"