Blue eyes.
Peeking over at the painting I'd initially mistaken to be of Xavier, I noticed the hint of blue used for the iris. Luca, he'd said his name was. I thought about the three boys, the one making a face. That was the same Luca.
He'd told me that I had no reason to fear him, spoke in such a soft tone, and the way he'd touched my face--
"Are you stumped?"
Glancing up at Paola who had taken a pencil, slowly and carefully creating the outline she clearly planned on filling in with watercolors, I saw that she had tilted her head, clearly puzzled by the start of my own sketch.
"Oh, I see."
She gave a soft smile and, flustered, I said, "I met Luca."
"He's a good boy," was what she said, pursing her lips. "Handsome too."
"H-he's a Pureblood," I mumbled, staring down at the jaw l
