what would you do if a beautiful painting came to life and crawled towards you? would you run, scream, fight?

argenti would do none of the above — instead, he remained still as a statue, admiring your beauty as you morphed from paper and paint to flesh and blood.

he was a knight of beauty, after all.

even as your once dainty fingers transformed into dagger-like claws, threatening to tear right through his face, argenti could do none but kneel, holding said claws in his own hands.