The butterfly was unually bright, so close in shade to astermite one might be mistaken in thinking it came from Babel. Very nearly his favourite colour.
He liked rare and beautiful things. After living long enough the common had become less than boring. One only had to look around his study to understand that about him. Though, if the six legged crocodile hanging from his ceiling didn't clue you in to that there were his other, living subjects.
He stabbed a pin through the butterfly's thorax. Its wings fluttered weakly.
He could hear Noé's laughter drifting through the open window from outside. Though he couldn't see his grandson it was obvious from Noé's demeanour that Louis was there as well. His lips pulled back from his teeth. How fortunate that they could grow up together after coming into his care at such impressionable ages.
He pushed the top wings into place, securing them as well. Noé's voice continued to ring in his ears. It was about time he taught that boy another important lesson, as his teacher. Perhaps the next time Dominique was visiting he'd set something in motion, he'd hate for his granddaughter to miss all the fun.
He arranged the bottom wings, coaxing them into the perfect position. Noé was a delicate boy and needed to be handled with care. It was fortunate he had experience in such matters. Dutifully, he would steer Noé in the right direction then let him choose his own path from there. A teacher is always hoping to be surprised by his students after all. Though, failing that, Noé would always be one of a kind.
Satisfied with his oddity he set his pins down and stood from his desk. He'd leave it to set for some hours before returning to mount it on the wall. Unless it still had enough life within it to tear its wings free. If it chose to harm itself in opposition to his will he would simply dispose of it.
