Ruria was fighting a monster; an entire battle being waged in the harsh glint in her eyes.
I don't know what or why she was fighting exactly. Assumptions and guesses were the best I could do at the moment, and none that popped in my head seemed like a good answer.
It was just one of those things about her. An unspoken little quirk to our relationship I always try to brush aside.
A little quirk called Ruria.
Irene was simple, straightforward; pragmatic and practical on the surface, often to the point she could come off as being a little callous, but beneath all that was a compassionate, caring side, that, should you be blessed enough, you'd catch a glimpse of… if only for a moment.
Ruria, on the other hand, was the latter taken to some extremes. She's playful, upbeat, and as coy and as sultry as a vixen worthy of that label.
