[In he goes into her memory, slipping in like a shadow. And when he opens his eyes, he's met with a fantastical sight. This mansion is like something out of an old, gothic tale; imagery strengthened by the vines coiling here and there across the bookshelves, clotting up all empty spaces.
He treads forward, gazing about with curiosity. The windows are just a blinding sheen of white and snow. But when he finds someone here--Amelia, much younger, her voice surprisingly biting--his focus directs itself solely on her and just her.
Henry pretends at being unassuming, like he's used to. He clasps his hands behind his back and cinches his brows.]
Kill you? No, of course not. I'm just a visitor. Why would you say that?
no subject
He treads forward, gazing about with curiosity. The windows are just a blinding sheen of white and snow. But when he finds someone here--Amelia, much younger, her voice surprisingly biting--his focus directs itself solely on her and just her.
Henry pretends at being unassuming, like he's used to. He clasps his hands behind his back and cinches his brows.]
Kill you? No, of course not. I'm just a visitor. Why would you say that?