Twirling the ribbon beneath his fingers, Jenoix stared at it. The scent of lavender and lilacs wafting from the piece of fabric. "How interesting," he mumbled, as he twirled the ribbon around in his fingers.
Lumielle Vastillo, the sole Crown Princess, was not loved by her father. Anyone could see that. The two of them did not have an amicable relationship. He had expected her to be boresome. Another aristocrat with high values of upholding high social ideals. Yet, when a young girl named Jessamine walked to his doorstep, in honor of becoming the Archbishop. He laughed. Almost as if she knew what his own preferences were. It made him all the more interested.
"Caleb," Jenoix asked the priest. He was getting rid of the corpse. Blood staining the entire room. The white robes of Jenoix's uniform were tinged with sanguine, it was almost as if someone had tossed a bucket of wine atop his figure. His cheek, splattered with blood, matching the rubies inside of his eyes.
