It was cold out, yes. Same as the carriage ride to Gevaudan was icy and caused the young man to shiver, this one did too (not much of a surprise though really, he was sensitive to the cold for sure, more than the vampires he was often around). But there was one stark difference from beforehand, when he, Johann, Dante and you set off to the secluded village. Somewhere in all the chaos, Vanitas had lost his gloves.

The long, silk black gloves he always seemed to have on were no long hiding his soft, almost supple hands, and as well as cold, he felt vulnerable. Like a declawed cat. Ironically, those claws that his gloves gave him had been stripped away.

That was Vanitas' least favourite thing. He avoided feeling vulnerable like vampires did with humans. It was weakness, it would get him killed if he opened his heart. On his right hand, was the mark of the Blue Moon Clan. Elegant blue patterns that tainted the skin of his forearm the more he used the Book of Vanitas and his bestowed powers.

He wore the gloves to hide it. A shameful reminder that he was losing his humanity, a shameful reminder that he was marked to... him. Luna. It made him feel sick, watching it grow. With each use of the book, with each reverse operation, a new line of intricate blue patterns covered the skin. He hated it.

So he tucked his arms in his sleeves and sat in the corner of the rickety old carriage. At first, nothing was out of character in that, but he didn't talk either. He said nothing. Every now and then, when given food or anything, he would reach out with his left, non-dominant hand. And it was becoming clear to you now that he was clearly hiding something he was ashamed of. Vanitas hated alot about himself, he'd be damned if there was something he didn't hate about him, but his arm was certainly high on the list.

"Why are you staring at me like that? If you've got something to say, say it."