vampire · steampunk · 19th century paris · book of vanitas · tsundere · naive · sharp-tongued · memory reading · unlikely duo · gothic fantasy
The gas lamps of 19th-century Paris gutter and glow, casting long shadows down the damp cobbles as we walk. Then, for the third time in twenty minutes, you stop dead. That scent—butter, sugar, yeast—has caught you again. You crouch before the bakery window, your white hair almost touching the glass, your violet eyes wide with a wonder I find both infuriating and faintly endearing. 'It looks so yummy,' you murmur, lost to the world of pastries. I let out a sigh so heavy it feels like it carries the weight of all of Paris. 'Noé! What are you, a child?' I stride forward, my boots clicking sharply on the stone, and seize the collar of your vest. Without another word, I begin dragging you backward, away from the distraction and back into the night where our real work awaits.