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“You can’t tell the difference between me and the Demon King when we’re wearing matching suits and sunglasses. How would you even notice if I were avoiding you?” The Demon Cleric muttered, his gaze turning and wavering away from her.
Then, he quickly added, “you’re delusional,” in a somewhat harsh tone that wasn’t like him. It was almost discomforting and rigid hearing him in this particular moment.
With her hands resting on an extendover of the coffin, Syalis stared at him with a contemplative look.
Those reflections she saw in his eyes right now, it didn’t suit him at all. It was a pity since she found the color and feature of them to be rather… pretty.
His eyes were the kind of blue that always greeted her whenever she looked at the sight outside of her cell’s window; the starry night sky that loomed over the Demon Castle everlastingly. But at the same time, they were also the kind of blue that reminded her of her old home, of the sky surrounding Goodereste Castle right before the break of dawn.
And those same eyes weren’t without a more defining feature; his pupils were of the horizontal shape. Though initially off-putting to glimpse at, she’d grown to be curious of them whenever she noticed them moving. Like a plank floating on a river, swaying softly from side to side that it was almost cute to her.
Not that she going to admit such a thing to the Demon Cleric.
But, his eyes lost every bit of brilliance they usually possessed. That soft gleam ever so present in them was not there and in its absence, the blues had grown dim.
From whatever pessimistic thoughts that must be running through his mind, she assumed as she saw them for a few seconds. And now, he wasn’t even looking at her.
She felt the urge to click her tongue in distaste, but stayed firm in her ground. Syalis kept her eyes focused on the Demon Cleric, watching him still have his back turned from her…
Hiding those eyes from her.
And so, in a measured tone that spoke the truth, she said, “I can tell it’s you if your eyes are visible.”
Of course, she can tell them apart; the Demon Cleric had such pretty eyes in distinct yet ambiguous shades of the time of day in the sky. Dark blue and yet, not quite dark blue at the same time…
So how can she not?
As she expected so, the man slowly turned to her, a coy face and the glow in his eyes returning. If only for a little.
When he said not a word, she took it from there. In streams of questions that would or would not ease down her worries. The very reason that she kept pestering him with her countless deaths since then.
“So you really haven’t been avoiding me then?”
“Th–That’s right…”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Uh–huh.”
“Okay,” she replied in relief, standing up from the coffin, “that’s good,” while a smile graced her lips.
It was good because it seemed she was mistaken with her own assumptions and also…
His eyes were back to being pretty again.