She stared at him, eyes steady and calm—so clear, so deep, that each slow blink felt as though the world shifted with it, moving at her pace. There was a weight to her stillness, a grace like water suspended in the air, somehow falling with grace.
Despite her current size and the fact that she was seated, he technically had the height advantage, yet it didn't feel that way.
There was something about her—something in the way she looked at him, even in the way she blinked—that made him feel they were not on the same level. It made it seem natural that she should be adored, a kind of supremacy carried in the air.
He looked intensely, trying not to miss a detail. His lips curved slowly, forming a smile that didn't quite belong to joy—a smile of wanting, of awe, one born of a fascination so sharp it seemed it could consume the very thing it admired.
