Phantom Recall

9 || leon

I would say it's the stranger's appearance that first catches my eye, but I would have to admit I find myself more stricken by the fact she had dragged a chair out from inside the lounge, then proceeded to sit upon it silently with folded arms.

She notices me, I'm certain. However the stranger's gaze almost seems to avoid me deliberately.

She's quite handsome, whoever she is. Hair of both a rich black and warm blonde shade, split directly down the center for a sort of "night and day" visual. She has it combed back so that not a single strand hangs over her forehead, and thus the flowing locks fall in such a way over her ears that seems to perfectly frame her face — that is to say, what part of her face I can see. The high collar of her black coat obscures her chin and mouth and somehow shrouds her in even deeper mystique.

She just...sits there. One leg folded over the other as her high-heeled boot begins to shake gently.

Could she have sensed us coming?

"Uh, 'scuse me..."

The woman's eyes shoot straight through me at the mere utterance of these words. Then, as gradually as I begin to approach her, she lifts her head at the same pace to grant me a clearer view of her full expression. A tickled smile sits upon ruby lips. And I can't lie, it is a bit unnerving to find her eyes not sharing in that same emotion — much like Noir's, actually. Strange and vacant. Somehow thinking of it that way helps ease my nerves a bit. Moreover, they, much like the stranger's hair, are of two different colors. The left a brilliant blue, the right as red as her lips.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my friend?" She asks, dulcet tones nearly luring me into a sense of false security. She dips her chin once more beneath the mask of her high collar.

"We're here to see Leon," Eret boldly asserts. With no visible presence of fear, he extends his hand to the woman as a polite gesture I worry would be frowned upon.

On the contrary. She appears delighted.

The corners of the woman's eyes become squished with the broadness of the smile Eret brings her, and she accepts the kind gesture. "Charmed," she says. "But who are you?"

"Oh! Of course." Eret retracts his hand as a nervous chuckle escapes him. "My name's Eret. This is my buddy Will, and that's our buddy Noir."

"The Three Musketeers?"

"No," I deadpan. I can already see her fighting back a laugh of her own, and my irritation only fuels her fire.

"Well, that aside, Eret," she continues, "you may call me Echo. I can't imagine why you'd want to see Leon, though. I don't believe he's ever made mention of a gentleman such as yourself."

"Yeah, well, it's important, alright?"

Echo's gaze pours over me. At first, I wonder if it's because she wasn't fond of my tone, sensing my impatience and lack of congeniality from that one sentence alone. She unfolds her arms and rises to her feet in what feels like slow motion. I bite my tongue without realizing.

Noir hasn't done nor said anything since we engaged in conversation with the strange spirit. Practicing mere observance. Silent studying. If she were a threat, I'm sure he would have reacted by now.

Echo soon raises one hand in the air and thus allows the oversized sleeve of her coat to gather in large folds around her elbow. I bite my tongue even harder. Is she going to conjure a spell? Spirit magic?? Perhaps just punch me??

None of the above, surprisingly. Her pause was merely for dramatic effect, as the only purpose of her movement was to knock against the door behind her. Three gentle taps. Then she steps once to the side.