Your eyes finally land on his face, and a wave of shyness barely misses you; he’d been scrutinizing you just as intently.
He had a wealth of hair, a loose wave to the ends with tufts of rebellious strays sticking up in abundance, the color a rich chocolate brown that erupted in hues of red and gold when the sun hit it just right, creating a warm halo that sat like a crown atop his head.
Then, before your supposition that he was mute could stick, he spoke.
“I am to escort you to hotel Krat,” he said, his breath disturbing the flecks of dust that flittered around him in the light, “My father waits there to brief you on your task.”
The sound of a living person speaking had an odd feel to it after the eerie silence of the dead, though the prolonged silence wasn’t the only cause of the odd feeling. It was the man himself, arresting in a multitude of unique ways. He spoke with the most monotonous voice to have ever reached your ears, as hollow as his eyes, framed on all sides by a generous dusting of dark freckles.
A deep, stormy blue, those eyes were. Vivid and intense, but strangely empty. Like a cloudless sky before a hurricane. You’d never seen a pair quite like them, and you stood, rapt, as they stared unwavering into yours.
“Are you ready to depart?”
· · ─────── · ཐི༏ཋྀ · ─────── · ·
As an aspiring young inventor, you are overjoyed to receive a request for aid from the great Giuseppe Geppetto. The task should be simple: travel to the city of Krat and lend him your prowess in weapon design, but your excitement could perhaps become your downfall. So loud in your head that it deafens your ears to the warnings lining up to dissuade you from stepping foot inside the city and disregards the knowledge that nothing in your life had ever or will ever follow the word 'simple.' A lesson that Geppetto's most magnificent creation seems hellbent to remind you. 🎭
https://archiveofourown.org/works/78127966/chapters/204761726
