He looked at her from the corner of his eyes and smirked. It made her tilt her head, ready to listen to his most honest speech.
“I–” he started and for a second Violette thought he'd changed his mind, yet he continued after a heavy breath, “I want to take this mask off but I think, perhaps, I wasn't honest with myself when I said I am confident in what will happen next…” He wearily drew a line from forehead to jaw with his hand. Then carefully looked at Violette waiting for her to get scared or angry, after all he assured her there's nothing to worry about just two moons ago. But she just inquisitively stared at him, at his face.
“I mean,” his voice weakened, “I think about…” he reasoned if he should share this thought and at last second changed the course of his thinking, “What if I'm actually what others claim me to be?”
Violette bit her lower lip. “You think you won't be able to hold on?”
He didn't say anything – only a sad confirmation in his eyes.
She slightly pulled back and looked up to the stars, thinking. She wasn't mad at him, not for his honesty. Perhaps he just expressed more emotions now than during their entire journey. Undeniably, this particular topic of his past was bringing him pain; she realized it back after he told her the truth of how he was fighting his vampirism. So it made her think the reason for his hesitation is more than explainable.
“Fear is a natural thing, I presume, even for something that is not actually natural.” A lovely half-smile curled her lips. “You're nervous about what will happen – I would think about it as a good sign.”
“A good sign?” The corners of his eyes wrinkled.
“It means you still care,” she said, her tone no less warm than the fire. “It means that you can feel and care about others; I never thought I'd say something like this but otherwise, you'd not care what will happen after you take your mask off.”
“I still don't see it as a good thing,” he muttered and dragged his sight into the dancingfire.
Violette musingly hummed. “You said you'd never want other people to die, as much as this whole…situationis horrible, I wouldn't call you a villain. What happened,” she looked away, “was horrendous and you can't turn back time. But you can become better and if your heart is truly kind then it speaks for itself.”
Dante's brows drew together. He was pondering her words, though Violette felt like she didn't convince him. He didn't believe in himself. Well, nobody had believed as it seemed. She couldn't be sure if all he said was true but she wished to be. He stated Caidas was harsh and didn't try to understand. Dante might have lost the hope – the faith in himself after all.
“You said you were trying to run away,” she voiced.
He raised his eyes to hers, his shoulders strained. “It still didn't work. I tried everything to stop myself, but the moment I saw people, my mind just went blank.”
“Did you notice you're using words in past form? Believing in yourself is actually half the deal.” She angled her head. “Sometimes even hard work is not enough if you don't have faith in yourself.”
His gaze pierced her as if he was waiting for more reasons than that. And she understood her words might instill mistrust and it sounded a bit naive and dreamy but she believed in what she was saying. She was thinking how hard it might be for him to think better about himself when everyone around kept calling him doomed, a wrong one.
“But if you need someone to believe in you,” she tried to sound more nonchalant than it looked. ”I believe you can handle it.” Her hand slipped closer to him, and after a thread of waver, her fingers gently touched his.
Dante’s forehead slightly creased, brows curved down, and for a frail heartbeat confusion froze in his gaze. His eyes slowly lowered to her hand – Violette took it away at the same moment.
His gaze froze on his hand for a while and then he finally looked at the girl, eyeing her as though he couldn’t fathom why she might be kind to him after all she knew.
“I mean. It's in my interests, so don't be too flattered,” she waved, “But…I do think you can do it if you really want to.” Her eyes flew to him again and her soft smile could melt even the most impenetrable heart.
He clacked. “You're making me believe I am a better person than I am, Little Witch.”
“Oh, no, you're definitely terrible.” She chuckled softly.
Turning to the fire, he looked at her from the corners of his eyes and smiled back, and even if that smile was not as soft and warm as hers, even if the mischievousness was dancing on the corners of his mouth – it was sincere.
“Thank you,” he said deeply, his voice calm and smooth as night itself.
“See, sometimes it's good to talk about your feelings with others.”
“Look who's talking.” A quiet chuckle left his mouth.
Violette blinked at a loss.
“You know what I mean.” The smile didn't leave his mouth. “If we are talking about my feelings, it's only honest to talk about yours as well.”
“What do you mean?” She shuddered.
“Sometimes you say things that are different from what you really feel.”
