𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄

𝐈𝐈 | 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

[𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝟏] - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬

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❝𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒊𝒍❞

· ✦────────✧◦ ☾ ◦✧────────✦ ·

"Vanitas, there's something I'd like to ask you." The white-haired man cleared his throat into his closed fist, his purple-shaded eyes trying to make out the scene in front of him. Vanitas only clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes at him.

"What is it? Out with it."

Noé lowered his gaze, watching as you dragged your prosthetic hand against Vanitas' lock locks of hair. He was resting his head on your lap, murmuring in content as he felt your fingers pull away the thin knots that had embedded themselves at the base of his neck. You still wore the same attire as before, your hood concealing the colors of your face as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Your belongings had been confiscated the moment you were placed within the cell. As Noé sighed under his breath, you hummed a small tune, letting Vanitas enjoy his small time of rest as you continued to brush through his hair.

"Why are you relaxing on Mlle. (Y/n)'s lap like that in prison? I find it rather rude," Noé asked, finding the situation to be less than humorous. He raised his hand to press against his aching temple, finding it hard to render his memories. He had not a single clue in his mind as to why he was locked up in a cell with two assaulters. He was sure that only a few minutes ago, he was boarding a ship to explore the city of Paris, but he instead found himself sitting at the center of a jail cell, waiting to be released.

"Mm. A very good question, my dear Noé. Although I have to comment that her thighs are rather nice to lay on. It would be a complete waste to sit here waiting for you to wake up without being comfortable." He reasoned, giving the man a cheeky smile as Noé only frowned in response.

You continued to brush through his tangled knots of hair, gathering small sections into your hand as you carefully unwinded the strands. You didn't seem to mind the situation, Noé comments. You were as silent as the soft callings of a gentle wind, your voice hard to hear but still barely audible. He could make out parts of your words but couldn't decipher the language.

"Qua. . . ex. . . favilla." You whispered, draping your eyelids over as you hummed. Noé swallows a thick lump that had formed at the base of his throat, his hands tightening around itself as it balled into a fist. He could feel shivers run down his spine at the sound of your voice, finding it rather eerie. As his eyes drifted over to Vanitas, he could only watch as the man continued to smile at you with content, his blue orbs drawn to you as his gloved hands reached for your skin. He gently wiped away at the edges of your lips, his touches displaying warmth. "Huic. . . ergo. . .parce. . ."

"I'll say it as often as I must, Noé. . . lend me your strength!" Vanitas held out his hand, urging for the man to accept his offer. He had followed the man around throughout the streets of Paris, interrupting the peaceful city with his boisterous laughs that garnered many strange looks. You quietly walked behind him, your hands still tightly clenched onto your coffin as crowds began to turn their heads at you.

"No!" Noé shouted, trying to shrug Vanitas away but with no luck. The man was as desperate as he was annoying, he thought, covering his ears as he continued to listen to the sounds of his whines. He was latched onto his tail like a pest, his attitude too close to a fly that constantly buzzed at the edges of his ears. He had hoped that by walking through the busy streets, he would be able to lose you. However, with Vanitas' keen eyes and your sharp sense of smell, your group was able to find him through the crowd with ease. It felt almost impossible for Noé to separate himself from Vanitas.