Xion curled his fingers over the lapel of Darius' shirt and tugged at it slightly. His eyelashes fluttered as he peeked at those green eyes before dropping his gaze back down to his fidgeting hands.
His lips parted, then closed again, hesitating. It was as if he were too shy to speak, his shoulders drawn in ever so slightly.
"Xion," Darius murmured, grasping his delicate chin and lifting his face. "What is it?"
"Um…" Xion bit his lip. "Can I go, please? I've never been to church before."
There was a soft, sorrowful tremor in his voice, as though the world had wronged him. And by "world," of course, he meant Darius.
He waited. But instead of answering, Darius' grip on his chin tightened slightly.
With no other choice left, Xion widened his big doe-like eyes to the fullest as he blinked up at the Archduke with all the innocence he could muster.
"I know you're busy," he whispered. "I'm sorry for causing trouble, but… I really want to see the saintess."
