Adonis Vivaldi.
I stood by the passageway, my back against the cold wall as I watched them interact, my focus solely on Yavannah. Her voice was kind and soft when she spoke to Lucia—not just her; whenever Yavannah spoke, her voice seemed to lull me to sleep, so soft and gentle that I could hardly pay attention to what she was saying.
Lucia was perched on the counter, swinging her legs and looking up at Yavannah with wide, innocent, and excited eyes. I couldn't hear every word clearly, but I knew they were having a bonding conversation; I didn't want to saunter in and interrupt.
