Green eyes neatly lined with coal-black kohl.

That's what anyone would notice first about Aveline. And what they'd remember about her, too. Not just the eyes but the icy gaze and stiff, stern face that came with it.

It was hard not to remember something about Aveline.

When her eyes did meet yours, her face would contort to an expression that can only be described as flipping you off or giving you the finger. Her stiff, rigid posture, often wrapped in a black overcoat, seemed incapable of bending. The only colour that could be spotted on her would be her green eyes, the grassy neon on her almost tidy shoes, and the occasional tinge of crimson on their soles.

However, her knack for instantly silencing any room failed her when she needed it the most. It was hard for her frozen demeanour to not crack in the presence of those untameable beasts. But like a dutiful mirror, she'd reflect back the joy, the stubbornness or the mischief of the kids she taught.

And in those moments, with colourful chalkdust smeared across her hands and a growing grin across her pale face, it'd be impossible to guess that this was the same woman-in-black who slaughters people for a living. Both tiring and thankless jobs, but at least one pays the rent. And the other in cards with two black dots, each enclosed in green circles surrounded by shabby crayon-filled hearts and letters that try spelling out 'Miss Green Eyes'.