/Hearing that whispering voice in his mind solidified his understanding that the being inside was inhuman, and his blue eyes widen as he slowly answers, thinking through his reply carefully, his wings twitching nervously/ …Hello…..you can speak this way also? You…you are not human… /He gazes up into the beautiful face, feeling proud that he had not stuttered once./…. What do I call you?
He came to a stop before the window, and the distant city lights of the night. They illuminated his skin with only a ghost of a touch, but against the dark of his room, it was nevertheless a stark contrast. All the while he kept his eyes on the little Fae, however, observing the wings which fluttered to keep the small body aflight. Only a fool would say it was not a beautiful sight, though a part of his mind curled and twisted as it thought of how different they were. He were no Fae—he was a creature of the night, a monster born through cursed blood, and he wondered why this sweet thing dared come so close. My may call me Francesco, his mind thought, as he was careful not to tell a Fae his true name. There was power in names, or so he had been told. He would not risk telling his birth name to a Fae before knowing it was safe to do so. If even then. Why are you here, little creature?