<span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Julius' scowl was set upon the hulking man when he spoke of it not being over. He seemed to disagree. "Perhaps such festivities should not be open publicly if that were the case," he growled lowly as the man sauntered away. The soldier didn't remove his steady gaze from Tomasin until the tent quaked with his retreat, and even a moment afterwards. It was her voice that drew his attention slowly away from the flapped opening of the tent, peeling away almost agonizingly slow until it flicked quickly at the end to her face. Once, Julius might've thought butterflies to be more beautiful than moths. But that was before he'd spent so much time dwelling in the dark recesses of night, dwelling in the shadows. Some creatures are far more beautiful in the night than in the daylight. Should she be a moth, he thought she would be a lunar species. Delicate, and fragile seeming in that moment. But she looked like someone who had struggled to break free from a cocoon, who wriggled and writhed to get there.</span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><br/>
Though, there was no mistaking the look in her eyes. The pain behind them like cracked glass threatening to shatter completely and spill what was held inside on the floor. Something the man had said stung her, or perhaps it was the violence of the night in general. "You don't need to thank me, madame. There are plenty I don't need - or perhaps shouldn't do - but I do them, no less. I'm afraid perhaps we've both overstayed our welcome. However, with such a threat around the corner, I couldn't fathom what would convince you to stay," he murmured boldly as he cast a heated, intolerant look towards the tent opening the man had left through. His gaze was apologetic when it returned to her. His mouth opened to say what his eyes already portrayed, to admit it wasn't his place to tell her such things. Yet, his mouth hung parted before any sound could leave them. He stared at her as she stunned him with a rather proper reading that sent raking chilled claws up his spine. "Yes, I suppose I am..." He murmured, confusion evident on his face. While he'd read her sign, he'd come across a great deal of mystics who boasted fortune telling and readings that were a load of crock. None quite hit the nail on the head in a complete session than this girl did in mere seconds. <br/>
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The mention of his burdens made his shoulders tense beneath his shirt, almost to the point of aching. As she moved forward, his foot rose as if to take a step back. He intended to distance himself but he got no further than a few inches before he felt the electric hum of energy beneath her warm touch. His eyes looked over her face, uncertain and then shamed as she called him out completely. He averted his gaze from her before his eyes rolled closed completely to the truths she spoke. She was right on all accounts. He did have a killing instinct, one he couldn't ignore just as one couldn't ignore the need to breathe. He was at constant war with himself, walking the fine line of man and monster. Belonging to both, yet neither at the same time. A life of pins and needles, walking the tight rope with nothing but a bed of spikes thirty feet below. As she moved away, his eyes opened to look at her with more pain than had been there a moment before. A glimpse through the windows of the soul before the veil pulled over his eyes and he collected himself proper. "I am many things, and nothing at all, madame. I won't deny your summary as truth, but there's some things better kept close to one's own soul," he murmured, looking down as he released his rapier was still in his hand. Even if he had a rather loose grip on it at this point. <br/>
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Raising his arm to slip the sword into it's scabbard, he spared a glance her way. "There is no need to repay me. But I agree we should go. If there's somewhere you know to go, I will escort you. Accompany you. As..." His lips thinned as he gave pause. "... as much instincts as I have, and my unnatural desires, I have learned the art of self control and containment. If I may be so bold to say... I do not trust you walking off into the night alone, not with such a tempered man riding the wiles of a drunken stupor." He scrunched his face with a shake of his head before he gave a look around. "If you collect your belongings, I will make sure he doesn't come back," he assured her, moving toward the opening of the tent, and moving the flap of fabric aside to peer out. From what he could tell, Tomasin was nowhere in sight and the festival was going strong. It was if what had just happened either had gone unnoticed, or they simply didn't care. Neither would surprise him, really. </span></span>