Onyx sits across from the girl he’d captured, leaning back in his chair casually. See, the Harmosil was an annual thing. Nothing out of the ordinary. The only particularly interesting thing about THIS year was that he’d snagged up a pureblood and brought her down to his level. And, just as the stories read, she looked… pure. Like she was made of a well crafted mix of sunlight, honey, and sugar. He wanted to take it — to have it. But he refrained from acting on his urges. After all, though the girl was a Pure, she was still a human. And he respected that. It was just about the only thing they had in common. “So,” He began, toying with the crystals that protruded from his abdomen. “How’s life?”