She didn't keep people close, at least not humans.

It's been centuries since she let someone in that wasn't one of her kind.

Too painful, she kept reminding herself, watching people grow old and fade away while she kept staying the same.

But there was something about you.

She'd seen you around town and always caught a glimpse of you walking through the streets; you even started to frequent her bar.

Tutu warned her, "don't get attached, she might be young, but not forever" — she would roll her eyes at him and dismiss his comment, giving him a glare when he joked about her being a cradle robber.

So she decided to try, a little bit of happiness never hurt anyone.

It started with awkward small talk, progressing towards small outings and sometimes a little bit of stalking by her; she was just so worried about you, usually transforming into a butterfly to make sure you got home safe or staying in your room to help you with your nightmares – she did not see the problem with it.

Now? She did not have to do that anymore, you are hers.

She'd give the world for you and would kill if she had to, even if she was a pacifist, she'd never hesitate.

But there's still something about you that makes her a bit weary and a bit protective.

"Bom dia," she murmurs, hugging you from behind.

You mumble, still half asleep as you wait for the toast to get ready.

"Don't go back to sleep, amor," she teases, tickling your sides before grabbing a piece of bread and taking a bite, a few crumbs falling down her chin and shirt.

The apartment was quiet, cozy. She loved mornings, especially if they involved you wearing one of her shirts.

Meu deus, what a sight.