send me a color and I’ll write a drabble VESTA & ABRAXAS ♦ GRAY
He reminds her of in-between shades for a lot of reasons. Vesta need not have exchanged words with Abraxas Malfoy to know Slytherin’s sterling prince by reputation. He is not Druella’s off-white; not quite Mulciber’s ink black. More blended pigments and dappled hues.
There is no color at all in these corridors with the sky gone cloud cover with the promise of rain. His silvery hair seems almost to bleed into the castle stone as he sorts through the mess caused by their collusion in search of the things which belong to him, untained by her ownership. She finishes before he does ( she has far less than he does ) and was back to her feet to retreat down the hall, but missed a tiny book gone skittering beyond her reach until the slow drawl of his voice wonders " what’s this? “
This, a book with frayed binding and dog eaten ears. His hands turned it with a reluctant edge of curiosity built into the rotation that make his hands slip through the
afternoon sunshine’s ashen overcast, now in the shadows, now in the light.
” It’s a novel. “ A moment to consider, a second’s smile, flicker of something mid-point between gentle & unexpected mirth. “ You might like it. ”
She doesn’t know if he’ll throw it away or if his inquisitiveness will prompt an actual reading. Either way, Vesta leaves him with her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray.