When Dominique De Sade met Jeanne, she would never have though their relationship would blossom into something more than friends. Yet here we are, with the hellfire witch's head laying on Dominique's chest, her breath tickling the exposed skin by the purple-haired girl's collar.
If Dominique had to describe Jeanne, she'd say this, "She is made of stars, she is made of the moon, she is made of the Sun. Her skin is crafted with the finest porcelain, and her tears leak golden ichor. She is truly seraphic," and then she'd glance at the girl and smile. From the hair on her head to the nails on her fingers, everything about Jeanne is perfect to Domi. She's never felt so loved by someone, and she's never felt deserving of love, but Jeanne has found a way to maneuver herself into Dominique's life and make it impossible for Domi to break away.
Soft snores echo through the room as gloved fingers elegantly trace the lines of the slumbering girl's body. She cards lithely through the pinkette's hair, twisting and braiding random pieces. The fluff of the beautiful candy pink hair holds Domi's hands softly in a welcoming manner. Moments like these remind Domi why she fell in love with the girl before her.
A blanket lies at the end of the couch, and Domi wants to grab it and cover herself and Jeanne from the cold of winter, but she remains still, and trails kisses down her lover's face, the skin warming her lips. She notices Jeanne's lips twitch up into a timid smile, and she basks in the light that it provides. The peacefulness of this moment is one to be savored for someone like Dominique, and oh does she savor it.
Everyday, the question spins in the head of the De Sade, "What about this vampire is so enticing that it impinges me this greatly?"
Although she does not know the answer to this question, she is willing to spend the rest of her life trying to figure that out.
Finally, she places one last light kiss onto the pink-haired girl's head, and closes her eyes. She drifts off into slumber with her whole world in her arms.