timidness mixes with something a little more anxious , “ my maker is the master of the opera house , I was made in the image of a vampire woman they obsess over ... ”
if the singer could blush , her cheeks would be a pretty blue right now . crystaline blue eyes look at how they take in the details of her palm , it's impossible to keep looking ; timidly her gaze wanders away .
“ I do ... ”
but that
" How wonderful. . .life. . .magic is amazing. . .and /he/ hates this. "
They were gentle, dragging their digits on her porcelain craftsmanship. They took their time to feel every edge, every joint and the smoothness.
" Made out of love. . .do you know who made you ? "
recognised for who she is , the star singer of the opera house . which , at this fine hour , has her being followed and haunted for autographs ... and more .
which , is why , despite not knowing the next person she finds , she runs up to