[The hallway is quiet at first. Tools of shadows play in a current of smog; the flow of it similar to that of an open-mouthed statue releasing a finalizing sigh. It tosses the lights in a haloing ring; their edges bleeding and blurry. To anyone else, the atmosphere gives off a bad sign; the presence of something lurking behind the door like that of an unknown shape twisting in the thick of a syrupy swamp. But here, in Vandare's notorious south side, under a steady fume of neon, it's a calling card; the mark of sin itself living up to its definition.]
[Which - ]
[Behind the lip of the door, a soft glow begins to blossom. Light oranges and yellows leak into the hallway - their colors growing closer, nearer, as if they're somehow answering her hesitation. While Dawn's one of the first, she's also one of the youngest. Someone out of her element living in the company of crooks and thieves. However, that's never seemed to matter. Like the rest, she's still one of his. Another misfit in a place teaming with unlikely company.]
[A sneeze of ash frees itself from the wooden frame and the Sin plugs the door open on the flat of boot. Without his vest, the scales along his neck take on a subtle hum in the dark. They shine in a team of red and gold; their pattern lacing along the cracks like glue to a broken piece of pottery. Greed shoves his elbow into the far corner and as his arm sags, his wrist rolls to the side. Allowing his fingers to pry open in a dagger-sharp fan.] You don't have to do that, y'know.
[He shrugs and with a wave of his fingers, he sends a bit of dust hurling away.]
no subject
[Which - ]
[Behind the lip of the door, a soft glow begins to blossom. Light oranges and yellows leak into the hallway - their colors growing closer, nearer, as if they're somehow answering her hesitation. While Dawn's one of the first, she's also one of the youngest. Someone out of her element living in the company of crooks and thieves. However, that's never seemed to matter. Like the rest, she's still one of his. Another misfit in a place teaming with unlikely company.]
[A sneeze of ash frees itself from the wooden frame and the Sin plugs the door open on the flat of boot. Without his vest, the scales along his neck take on a subtle hum in the dark. They shine in a team of red and gold; their pattern lacing along the cracks like glue to a broken piece of pottery. Greed shoves his elbow into the far corner and as his arm sags, his wrist rolls to the side. Allowing his fingers to pry open in a dagger-sharp fan.] You don't have to do that, y'know.
[He shrugs and with a wave of his fingers, he sends a bit of dust hurling away.]
So, what did you want to ask me?