IC Black City

[PavellumPendulum]

HALO

Again, Halo was not particularly dressed for the weather, a slave to the aesthetics rather than to practicality. Another blouse draped over his figure, tucked into the smoothed edges of his slacks, though at least this time, his shirt was not so thin that one could see the muscles of his chest and abdomen through it. Teardrops of rain rendered the fabric faintly spotted after he'd made quick work of opening and closing the vehicle door for Jax, adding extra droplets of shine to his hair, sitting on the strands as though they were tiny, inlaid pearls. His smile gleamed, along with the gold bangles on his wrists and an intricate lariat necklace hung from his neck.

Jax fit into the seat of his car so perfectly, as he did into his life. Even if Jax kept purposeful distance from him, Halo was always happy to accept what the other man was willing to offer him. Every bit was precious.

"I will be, in two days time. I just missed you." he replied with completely honesty, his eyes on him. Halo drank in the sight of him before beginning to drive, going a leisurely pace. He was never one to enjoy speeding along the roads, no matter how supposedly fast his car could go. Rides were meant to be enjoyed, even if they were meant to simply fulfill something as easy as getting from point A to point B.

"That sounds cozy. What did you read? Perhaps I should have followed your lead..." Halo chuckled softly, turning at an intersection, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel, "I attended a few events. The merriment and all was pleasant, but I did feel pulled away from my art due to all the socializing." His sigh was not an unpleasant one, since he certainly did love to be around people, but he had not engaged in anything artistic for days due to it, "Ah, but at one of them, at a nightclub... A young lady offered me a croissant, straight from her pocket, on the dance floor. It was honestly a bit hilarious."

「 @Reverie 」

code by wren.

 

[Reverie]

ANNIKA

Lord Otto Kraus, a largely insignificant baron from rural Neu Kingdom, thought himself very important. He was not a man entirely without charm. No doubt, there were those who delighted in his bumbling idiocy. Someone must have found something entertaining in his perpetually merry demeanour and garrulous gabbing. Annika was not that someone. But insignificant or not, Kraus was his guest for the evening — a stepping stone for greater connections. Therefore, Annika wore his sweetest smile, and listened attentively to every inane rambling word from the man's lips.

"—and then I said: 'Green? what kind of a fashionless fool do you take me for?'"

A large one.

"'Green simply won't do!'" The Vampir spoke in German, although Annika knew him to be well versed in English. However, it was always different to speak to someone in their native tongue. The hybrid was well aware that his familiarity with the language was one of the reasons the Vampir had chosen him as his company for the evening. One of.

Le Petit Bijou was a hotspot for the wealthy and the powerful, both of which Lord Kraus almost was. It was a restaurant of no insignificance which boasted a guest list of the elite. Kraus clearly expected Annika to have stars in his eyes when he told him where they were eating that evening, but Annika had been there before. With another man — a more important man. Still, he played the role, looking around at the décor with feigned awe.

"Can you believe it? Green?" Annika's polite smile did not slip, his attention wholly focused on his companion. "Who wears a green suit? I said blue! Granted, it was a nice shade of green, but who wears a green suit?!"

You already asked that.

Annika folded his hands together and delicately rested them on the edge of the table. He thought the question was rhetorical, but the extended pause and expectant look the man gave him suggested otherwise.

"Nobody with taste," Annika replied softly. He considered adding a compliment to the man's fashion, but Kraus' expression quickly shifted to satisfaction at Annika's agreement, and he did not leave room for the hybrid to add anything else. It wasn't as if Annika was itching to praise the plain looking man, anyway. Even if his pale blue suit did compliment his complexion and auburn hair. There would be more than enough time for praise later, when the man would surely appreciate it more.

"Exactly! I almost fired Franz right then. I don't know what got into his head.. Only his years of excellent service convinced me to let it slide — this time. But perhaps firing him would be best. He is getting rather old. The greys are starting to show." Otto laughed. "Dark and ugly greys. Not silver or snowy." He appeared to have worn himself out on the topic as he shifted to the next one without hesitation.

"Nothing like your hair. No, no."

My hair…? Annika would not have made any correlation between his hair and the greying hair of an old man if Kraus hadn't said that. It seemed an odd comment to make.

"Yours is pristine and snowy," the Vampir said.

"Thank you," Annika slipped in before the man continued on, changing the topic to a terrible haircut he had received once, and how he had fired his stylist.

「 @MaryGold 」

Code by wren.

 

[Reverie]

JAX

Part of Jax wanted to smile as Halo told him he missed him, and part of him wanted to run. Perhaps it was heightened by the trapped sensation he felt from the car, but sometimes the Vampir's overwhelming sincerity made his heart jump in a way which did not feel quite right. Something akin to anxiousness, but not quite. Thanks felt a detached response, while I missed you, too felt too exposing. Jax had lied the latter words hundreds of times to clients, but in this case, they would be true, and because of that, he could not say them. As for Halo's delayed departure — they had already discussed Aeaea during their last encounter, and Jax saw no reason to touch upon it again. So he let Halo's words pass without comment, and hoped the other man would not take his silence to heart.

"It was nice," Jax admitted, then answered Halo's question, "I read The Song of Achilles." He did not elaborate on his thoughts about the book. Halo was never shy about asking when he wanted to know more about the details of Jax's life or interests, even if the younger man sometimes denied an answer. The hybrid expected Halo would ask. Maybe he just wanted to hear him ask.

Perhaps we could read together.

Jax blinked and felt that same almost anxiety, which might've been real anxiety as his heart stirred in his chest. The thought had come unbidden, and it took him a moment to register he had not said it aloud. He sighed, small and relived. Halo would've agreed to the idea, Jax had no doubt. They could've read anywhere, not in Jax's worn down little hovel. It wasn't even as if that was such an inherently intimate thing. So why did it unsettle him? Maybe it was because it was something Jax always did alone. Maybe it was because it was something intimate to him. So why did he want Halo there?

Jax looked down at his hands — away from the road — and to the golden ring on his finger. It was the one Halo had got him. The one Jax always wore whenever they were together. Wearing gifts from his clients to meet them was something he did often. Sometimes they requested he did it, and sometimes he did it just to put himself on display, and sometimes he did it to encourage them to buy him more things. I'll wear it if you get it for me. There were even things he received that he genuinely liked and kept indefinitely. But the simple gold band was nothing to show off, which was maybe why Jax sometimes wore it even when Halo wasn't there, despite not being a man who often wore jewellery.

Jax was relieved Halo carried the conversation on, as he felt he might've let himself go silent too long. Not that Halo ever seemed to mind his quietness.

"A croissant?" Jax questioned, his voice lifted and the air of laughter on his tongue. "How strange." It was not the oddest thing he had heard of someone doing at a club, but it was still quite peculiar. There was only on logical line of questioning following such a statement.

"Did you take it? … Did you eat it?"

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[Reverie]

DODGER

Dodger cared about his appearance, but maybe he cared a bit more than usual that day. He took a little longer adjusting his berry red button-up in the mirror, and had brushed up his shoes. Not that his Oxford style shoes were particularly dirty or scuffed, he just thought they might look a little shinier with a hint of polish. And as he had the entire week off, he had plenty of time to do so. He had time to make himself tea and go over some notes as well. He always had time before going somewhere, as he always overestimated the length of time it would take him to get ready, and he was still always early.

Since it was going to rain that day (and the forecast proved accurate), Dodger and Scout had agreed to meet at a small café. It was a perfectly sized one with a cozy atmosphere. Dodger liked it very much, and had been there before on numerous occasions. It was a nice place to settle in a corner with a drink and read a book or take notes. He had been fortunate to get one of the small tables by the window, which meant not only that Scout would be able to easily find him, but that he could watch the people who hurried enthusiastically from business to business, celebrating the holiday sales in between snacks and games.

The brunet took a sip of his almost-too-hot drink. It was a London Fog, which he had ordered near ten minutes ago, and was only now cooling enough to not burn his mouth. Dodger didn't generally like shopping, but shopping for magic things was very different than shopping for something like a new shirt. He knew he could get stars in his eyes whenever he saw something unique or found a new tome unlike something he'd seen before. Most of it wasn't that special, but the things which were always worth the hassle made up for it. Even had he hated all shopping, Scout could make even the most tedious activity fun, and he more than expected a delightful day in her company.

Dodger spotted her before she saw him, and he immediately perked up a little in his seat, and offered a small wave when he caught her attention.

「 @MaryGold 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[PavellumPendulum]

HALO

Even if his affection was not always outwardly reciprocated, Halo was fine so long as there was no indication that his presence was simply being endured rather than appreciated. There were few in the world as open with their hearts as he was and Jax was especially guarded with his clients, from what he knew. That was fine. Jax had never shown distress at his words, nor had he ever outright rejected him, so the silence did not cause him much damage, if it did at all. He drove until Jax mentioned the book he'd read, drawing a gentle hum from the vampir's throat.

"I believe I read that a few years ago... It was beautiful. The prose was heart-wrenching." he mused softly, remembering the tears he'd shed over the book, so entranced by the love story it told, even if the memories were now separated from him by years now, "How did you like it?"

Jax laughing at him story made him almost want to laugh himself, just out of delight at having brought him joy. "It was!" he exclaimed wholeheartedly, but then suddenly dimmed, when the younger man asked his next two questions. Halo had accepted the croissant in the moment, without even thinking about it, but thinking on it now, especially with the incredulousness of Jax's tone, maybe he had made a foolish decision. Was this similar to when women accepted unknown drinks from strange men that had potentially tampered with them? "Er..." he started, looking faintly shy for a moment, his silvery-blue eyes on the road, "Yes. It was quite delicious. And buttery."

He suddenly felt like a child preparing to be scolded, even in his older age.

The road had led them back to his home, where the fragrant herbs and flowers of his gardens had lost their luster, slowly succumbing to the coming winter. After parking the vehicle, Halo opened Jax's door for him, escorting him to the familiar foyer of his home once more, the scent of vanilla wafting through the air. As soon as Jax's shoes were off, Halo gently deposited house slippers in front of him with all of the subservience of a house maid, swiftly taking his coat and the like next to have them hung up in the closet until it was time for Jax to leave again.

As per routine (one that he took much pleasure in), he then took Jax's hand and laid a soft kiss against the back of it. "Welcome home."

「 @Reverie 」

code by wren.

 

[Reverie]

JAX

"Tragic," was the first word Jax thought of when questioned about The Song of Achilles. He had the feeling it would be difficult to find someone who disagreed with that. "I knew how it would end, though, and there is merit in that, I think. I enjoyed the writing. There was some beautiful imagery." He agreed, shifting his attention up from his hands, gaze grazing the road ahead only briefly before landing on Halo's profile. Jax focused on the shape of his face, on the point of his nose and the plump of his lips. Halo wouldn't harm him. Would he? What a sweet consideration to have, he thought, and what a dangerous one. He might've looked away again at the reflection, if Halo had not confessed that he had, in fact, eaten the croissant. Jax felt the twist of his brows and the scrunch of his nose as he looked at the man's abashed expression.

"Anything could've been in that," Jax returned hotly, not a second after Halo declared that it had been a good croissant. That did not make it better. "You're lucky nothing happened to you," his face felt a warm. Halo was too trusting, too easily seeing the good in people, and lacking a healthy suspicion. It could be endearing, but at that moment it was just frustrating. How had he made it so far without learning such a simple lesson? Jax couldn't do anything retroactively, and thankfully, nothing had happened, but he still felt something in his stomach.

Jax sighed in exasperation, and looked away — at the road ahead of them. "Be more careful," he said, the stern edge of his voice not lost, but with a hint of something softer lingering underneath. Jax went quiet after that. He wondered if he should say more, but he wasn't sure what. Perhaps had their relationship been different, Jax might've told Halo how foolish he'd been in so many words, but he imagined that would only wound the Vampir, which was more cruel than helpful, even if it had been truly foolish. Jax hoped he had said enough for Halo to take it to heart, at least. The idea of something terrible happening to someone as sensitive as Halo was a sickening one. Maybe it only sickened him imagining something happening Halo.

The hybrid spent the rest of the car ride just shy of sulking, twisting his ring around his finger and trying to not imagine the worst scenarios. The drive felt longer for it. Halo's car came to a stop, and Jax near immediately felt the rise in his mood. He was eager to be out of the vehicle. Part of him wanted to swing open the door and step into the crisp, cool air, but he waited patiently for the other man to escort him out. The grey-eyed man slipped from the car, pulling his umbrella after him. It was a short walk, however, so he did not open it. Instead, Jax allowed the water to dampen his hair and jacket.

Inside, Halo took his jacket from him, revealing the simplistic outfit Jax wore underneath. He considered it flattering, and at the least it was well-fitted. Jax wore a simple button-up shirt, dark grey with thin black stripes in a v pattern, that came together at the center of his waist. His shirt was tucked into black slacks., and he had refreshed the polish on his nails. They now shone a shimmery grey-green. Aside from his golden ring, Jax wore no jewellery or other adornments. Halo's gold was enough for both of them. He left his black lace-up shoes beside the door, and stepped into the provided slippers, a routine which had become quite familiar to him. The entire time, Halo displayed servile behaviour, common to their interactions, but which still left an odd taste in the hybrid's mouth. Plenty of his clients played the gentleman at times, but none were quite so submissive.

Jax couldn't place entirely how it made him feel.

As customary, Halo placed a gentle kiss on the back of his hand. That Jax knew he liked. A sweet gesture he had not only come to expect but welcomed. Soft lips upon his skin. Something familiar and tender, something he rarely had the chance to relish. Jax could dally in romance, and he could certainly flirt. He quite enjoyed the latter. Instead of allowing Halo to release his hand, he locked their fingers together, and stepped in close as his companion straightened. The dark skinned man smelled of rain and spice, which mixed appealingly with the sweet vanilla in the air.

"Welcome home," Jax repeated, smile on his lips and lilt to his voice. It was not his home, for as comfortable as he had come to feel in that house, but he had no intention of arguing semantics. And it was Halo's home. Jax left minimal distance between them, but still enough that he did not have to crane his neck impossibly to look up into the taller man's face. His smile remained, confident, and the grasp of his hand unbroken, fingers rapidly warming from the slight cool they had acquired in the cold air.

"How beautiful," he said sweetly, "That I get to be with you tonight."

"Do we have plans for tonight?" An innocuous question on the surface, but there was suggestion there — as he knew very well how the night would end. He would not rush there, if Halo had other wants, however. "Aside from sex." That he said in his most sultry tone. Jax certainly didn't mind if Halo was only planning for the latter that night.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

Code by wren.

 

[MaryGold]

IVER VLAHOS
VAMPIR

LOCATION | INTERACTION | MENTIONS

"Back again, Mr. Vlahos?"

"Did you miss me, Miss Moss?"

"Hardly." She lied through her pretty white teeth. Iver couldn't help but notice this time her lips were much glossier than before, pinker too. They'd be sticky and sweet, strawberry flavored, likely.

Iver sighed ever so theatrically, pulling the breath from his very core. His brows crinkled and his lips pouted. "Shame. I was looking forward to your amazing service tonight." Slowly, he pulled his brown suede gloves from his fingers, his eyes downcasted and his voice dropping with it, purposefully articulating every word with warm precision. "Entre les regards et les attentions que nous avons partagés l'autre soir, je pensais que nous étions un peu plus qu'un client et un serveur." ("Between the looks and touches we shared the other night, I thought we were a little more than patron and server").

"My French is rusty, Mr. Vlahos." She lied again, reddening cheeks and twisting mouth betraying her every word. The body never lied, not to Iver, anyway.

He smiled and leaned against the wooden hostess stand, leaving a respectable space between their faces, but meeting the level of her jeweled purple eyes. "You lie." He whispered lowly, to save her face, of course.

Not so coyly though it was clearly intended to be, she twisted her brown curls and tucked them behind her pointed pale ears. "Jamais." She quipped with her velvet voice.

Iver snorted, covering his mouth with his slender to fingers to hold back the little laugh in the back of his throat. He liked her. But one never should never shit where they ate.

"Miss Moss," he pulled back with "conviction". "I need a table."

She rested her elbows against the flat surface of her stand and her chin in her perfectly manicured hands. "I am afraid we're all booked, Mr. Vlahos. There are no tables available for a single seating." her head tilted, and her pretty curls fell off her shoulder. She was no fae, she was a vixen. And a very lovely one.

"Surely, you can find one for me," before he knew it he leaned his side against her stand once more and peered across the restaurant floor. It was seemingly very full. But this close to the hostess, he could smell the distinct fragrant of Mancera Roses parfum, one full of aphrodisiacs.

"None, sir." She said into his ear.

Still, Iver looked not at her but at the busy restaurant. If he didn't find a table, he would just have to bring her home and say goodbye to Le Petit Bijou. What use was a restaurant that wouldn't seat him anyway. He was a very important person himself.

His eyes stopped on a face. A familiar face. Iver never forgot the faces of those he deemed interesting enough to keep stored in his memories, or those who he had to pay back vengeance or favors. And this one, well, he was certainly an interesting one. It helped that he was pretty with those piercing blue eyes, though he was used to them looking fired up (usually angry) they looked bored. And what a crime boredom was!

"Do you think they're together?" Iver lowered his voice suspiciously, nudging his nose in the direction of the (couple?) two gentlemen.

The hostess turned her head and scanned across the room until she found the table. "Oh." Her voiced raised an octave. "No," she laughed. "Well, maybe. Who is to say?"

"There's no way, that one is not very handsome." Iver shook his head.

"You're mean," but she was laughing anyway. "He is charming and handsome, I am sure."

"You really need to stop lying, Miss Moss."

"Well," she hummed. "Mr. Bellerose has been here before with others."

"Oh has he?" Which translated to a very obvious teas sip of "interesting". "You should have me sit with them."

"I can't do that," she said, her voice twisting into a more surprised and stern tone.

"You absolutely can. You would be doing him a service, too. Look how bored he is? How sad. It's pitiful."

"How do you even know he's bored?" Her voice was as playful anymore and brows of her eyes furrowed. Jealously. Adorable, really.

"I'm an empath." he placed a hand against his chest. Her face twitched. She almost laughed or snorted.

"Mhm. It's against the rules. I could get in trouble."

"Miss Moss, it's okay to be a liar, but not a coward." He tapped his fingers against the hard wood of her stand. "If your boss fires you for being so gracious, I will hire you and you can go back to Rose with me."

She hummed again, seeming more pleased to gain his focus once more. "Come on then," she grabbed the menus from her stand and took the lead.

He had gotten his way once again.

Iver followed her lead, walking past the many tables of pompous higher class men, women and others. They did a trick, walking as if they were planning to go past the table he wanted, but just as her legs were behind it, Iver stopped and made his greatest surprised face, subtle, yet soft. "Annika?" He called his name as he stood to the side of their table. "Is that you? Oh My Gods, this is - well, I don't know what to say." He shook his head, completely and utterly amazed. There were no words.

Except for the many more that came after. "Is this your husband?" he gestured a hand to the gentleman he had no idea whose name was. "Well, I never expected you to settle down. But it seems you have done well, my friend." He nodded ever so seriously, as his mouth trembled for just a split second He cleared his throat, it was a clearly a cough he held back.

「 @Reverie 」​

 

[MaryGold]

SCOUT CORTEZ
MAGI

LOCATION | INTERACTION | MENTIONS

Pink Berry or Cherry Bomb.

Scout was caught between a rock and a stone troll. Or more accurately, she was between glamorous pink, glossy, sweet citrus, strawberry lemonade and heated, red, vibrant, sticky, glittery cherries. The call was almost impossible to make. Which one would be tastier? Which one would be more eye catching? Which one would compliment her outfit of brown, creams, and pink? Cherry would pop out more, bold and elegant, but pink was soft and graceful. And worse more, both went well with her perfectly curated outfit.

In the reflection of the coffee shop, she peered at the two tubes of lip gloss between her fingers. The colors were rather dulled by its poor mirroring, but the job was done well enough for Scout to keep looking for longer than a minute. Or two. Maybe even three as she pulled them toward her lips.

"What do you think, Sidhe?" She asked the sugar glider no where in sight, with her eyes still solely glued to the two tubes on her hands. Hearing her name, however, the critter of a familiar crawled from the pocket of her magi's wool coat and up her arm. The creature didn't seem to have looked, or perhaps she just didn't care. She only sniffed the glass in the hand of the arm she had first put her little arms on.

Cherry Bomb.

The choice was almost impossible. But it was possible.

"Excelente," she kissed the pocket-sized fur familiar on her hand.

The critter's response was to climb her face, nearly ruining her sharp eyeliner, and into her curls. "No, no, I just fixed my hair this morning." She quickly grabbed her tiny body before her grubby claws could disrupt her styled curls and placed her back into her pocket.

With the troublesome beast out of sight, she reached into her purse to pull out an actual mirror, albeit, a compact mirror, to apply the red lip gloss. After smacking her lips and using her pinkie to remove any messes, she spritzed herself with her own certified safe perfume. The surrounding air was a little pink after the first sprays, courtesy of the sizzling magic, and gained a few stares until it dispersed, but it was worth it when she looked back into the window, smiled, and clicked her heels.

Though Scout considered herself a fashionista, and therefore was not foreign to the time and effort put into her outfits, today there was an immeasurable amount of both inserted into her look. And all for a shopping trip - is what a simpleton would say. It was a shopping trip with Dodger, and whether he had a detail for the effort she went through was irrelevant. All she needed was for him to say she looked "nice".

Drip!

Scout tossed her head back and looked up. Water was leaking through the awning she sought shelter under. "No, no, no," she hissed to herself as she ran for the door.

The wave of warm air inside was far more welcoming than the cold and wet outside. Though, she had to stop for a minute to wipe away the water that had still dropped onto her face and shoulders. Magi Moore was the best time of year for Magi, but none likes gloomy weather.

But she could forget it the moment she saw Dodger waving to her.

"Hey, you!" She grinned brilliantly as her boots carried her over to the man, clacking hard against the wooden floor. "Sorry, I'm a little late." She had no idea if that was true or not, but she knew she spent a lot of time in front of her own reflection. She had no idea what the time was at all.

"Are you ready for Magi Moore?" the brunette pulled the share from the table and plopped down. "Do you know all you'll be doing for the week?"

「 @Reverie 」​

 

[Reverie]

INDRA

Velia was a brilliant woman, which Indra considered high praise coming from himself. She was a kindred spirit, someone whose company he was always happy to keep. The Fae was good at making boring situations entertaining, and he had minimal tolerance for any he could not improve, but Indra was always charmed by the woman's company. Velia was delightful, and the glamour of the day before, and their night together, had not worn off. It had been a while since their paths had last crossed, as each was off on their own adventures, and the reunion was all the sweeter for it.

Their rendezvous was planned when both learned the other was in BC, and his week was all the better for it, but it was improved further with happy coincidence. Velia had scored some last minute tickets to the current production of The Importance of Being Earnest at Merveille Hall — an impossible treat. Receiving her invitation was more than flattering, and he had no intention of disappointing her with denial, even had he wanted. This enthusiasm was furthered by the knowledge that her friend was coming to join them — Willow. Velia had talked of the man before, and had wanted to introduce them for some time, expecting them to get along quite well. He was intrigued. Acquaintances and connections were always good to have, and Velia had spoken highly of the man. Indra had no doubt about her judgement, and even if she was somehow wrong — she wouldn't be — then it was still an experience gained.

And Indra loved new experiences.

It was nearly time for them to depart, both to check out of their hotel, and to head for the airport.

"Velia, my dear, I think it's time to depart," Indra said, voice swaying lyrically as he cast a glance to the watch on his wrist. Indra didn't need a watch — he had a perfectly working phone — but he had been gifted a watch as a child before he'd ever been given a phone, and he'd grown accustomed to it. Plus, the analogue numbers made him fancy.

"We mustn't keep your lovely friend waiting." Being late could make a fashionable statement, but he did not want to get charged for an extra day, and he did not want to leave someone alone to wallow in their anxieties, as Velia had told him Willow was quite uncomfortable flying. Indra stepped to the hotel door, and pulled it open. A flourishing gesture of his hand indicating departure.

"After you."

「 @sele @PavellumPendulum 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[sele]

fae-gargoyle hybrid | fae-dominant traits | artist for 'heresiart.'

Location: Hotel in Black City, transitioning to the airport. | Tag: @Reverie 's Indra, @PavellumPendulum 's Willow (#soon:tm:), @MaryGold (Surprise! A Ruwan on the flight with Willow!!!)
──────────────────────────── ˖ ────────────────────────────​

Velia had a constellation of resplendent muses across Cervia. Indra's shine was particularly guiding – sparking in green vim and blue confidence. What opportunities she had to cross his path were always happily taken.

She stood before a mirror to help guide her as she eased the spidersilk of a new fae gown's narrow sleeve up her arm. It'd been a gift from Indra, so when she wore it, the gossamer felt reminiscent of his glances and tender thoughts about her made manifest. Life was art – and she wore the beauty of his upon her schist-shimmering body with fond affection.

Privately, the garment was a tangible reminder that while Velia did not feel she fully belonged to the world of fae or gargoyles, she did have a place amid her stars' constellation. Her dears sparkled and brought a light to her life that guided her to a sense of home – no matter where she happened to be.

She carefully slid the next sleeve up to her other shoulder. The off-white of the spidersilk weave complemented her ashen-gray complexion, she felt. Indra had an eye for aesthetics of course, which naturally resonated with the artist herself.

Indra spoke to Velia while she dressed, reminding her of the time. Ah yes, they did soon need to depart, didn't they? She answered his cherished lilt with a glance that warmed with a slow-blooming affection. He was right, and she acknowledged his thoughtfulness with admiration in her charcoal eyes and acquiescence to her quiet smile.

She ensured that the new gown sat appropriately with a final survey of the mirror, then turned toward the door. Indra had only opened it after he'd seen her confident in her appearance – they had an unspoken synergy to assist the other to shine at their best.

"You'll adore him, I'm confident, Indra."

This wasn't the first time that she'd said so, but the repetition underscored her excitement for the encounter between Indra and Willow. She felt somewhat foolish for not realizing just how splendid a pair they should make sooner – that they'd make one another brilliantly happy, surely.

Secretly, Velia had only a small lament to the encounter, however. In her love of both her dear friend, Willow, and her paramour, Indra, she was certain that she might be left in the shadows of what incandescent joy the two men would bring to one another. In this way, she felt that she might be losing them both, only a little. It was a worthy sort of sacrifice for the sake of bringing two very alike souls together.

As Velia made her way toward the door, she slowed briefly beside Indra to admire him. His vanity was a positive trait – balanced well enough with his other intriguing dimensions. He was quite lovely, and of course dear. With him, her weaker fae-empathy had had opportunity to explore through shared whispers between them over time. She alighted fair-gray fingertips to his cheek in brief, casting mild crystal-schist shimmer over his earth-warm complexion. Velia kissed him within just that glance, adoring and praising him in the heady softness that shaped her eyes during their last private moment for a time.

It was time to go, of course.

Velia offered her forearm to Indra. He had opened the door for her, and she'd happily escort the stormy fae and show him off to any who might glance their way.

"There should be a car coming soon." She'd confirmed this already in an app. "Red, driven by a 'Jozette.'" This was, of course, the less interesting information, but functional necessity.

"I do wish there'd been time to travel with Willow, it might have helped his airplane anxieties. I hope he's had understanding neighbors seated around him. But – that he traveled at all speaks to how much he must look forward to this show, and to meeting you. I know I don't need to tell you that I've sung sweet songs about you into his ear, too."

Velia savored the honey of Indra's self-confidence.

credits

 

[Reverie]

DODGER

"Scout!" Dodger greeted his companion in turn, slightly fumbling in his seat as he shifted his upper body in her direction. Her smile was brilliant and infectious, and his smaller, barely crooked, one felt insignificant in comparison. But he was probably overthinking. Again.

Dodger was not the most creative man when it came to words — flowery prose did not come easily to him. Knowledge, rather than the arts, was where his heart belonged. All that meant he was not the most imaginative when it came to compliments. Perhaps if he had been, he would've been better at offering them. The Magi knew how to compliment within certain scopes of interest, but human aesthetic was not one. Upon seeing Scout, however, the first word which came to mind was not a dull one. Dazzling, Scout was bright and eye-catching, and he felt glad he got to look at her all day. Was it strange to call her dazzling? Was that too much?"

"You look great," he settled on. Straight-forward. Nothing to be overly analyzed. At least he didn't think it was.

"You're fine," Dodger replied to her statement of timeliness. He had checked his phone several times before she had arrived, and last he had looked, Scout was only a minute or two absent, which he would hardly call late. But he had gotten lost watching the last passerby, and he wasn't sure how much time had passed. Dodger didn't look at his phone. You're fine also worked because it didn't matter if she was a little late — she was there now. He didn't even mind waiting or time alone, but seeing her definitely brightened his day.

"Yeah," he answered lamely. It wasn't much of an answer. "I've been going through my old tomes and notes to see if there is anything in specific I might try to find. But I'll probably find more things I didn't know I wanted," he added with a small chuckle. That was usually how it went. Every year, his collection grew exponentially bigger. He had more books, artifacts, and trinkets than he could ever need — but not more than he invested in.

"The usual," Dodger answered, small, sincere, slightly awkward smile on his face. "Since I have the week off work, I'll spend a lot of time reading my newest tome. It's old, from before Magi years, when humans wrote about witches. Oh, and Sunday I'm going to help a colleague investigate an increase in pixie activity down at Moonridge Park. I'm sure we can find a reason for the incursion." He paused only a slight second before adding, "And I'm spending today with you." Scout never made him feel uncomfortable for going on, and he enjoyed being able to prattle sometimes without feeling like an annoyance, but he wanted to catch up with her, too.

"How about you? To both questions?"

「 @MaryGold 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[wanderingcoder]

ARIANE

Ariane tapped the blunt end of her 2B pencil on her forehead with a frustrated sigh. In front of her, opened on her desk, laid her sketchbook. Among the hobbies that came and went in her life, the artistic ones were those that she upheld with passion and, while proficient at sketching, she needed to hone her skills on a weekly basis. She did not want to get rusty.

"God, these fucking lips." She hissed, and palmed the pencil to the wooden surface. She stared dejectedly at the gallery of lips that taunted her from the page—some of them had the rough appearance of having been erased multiple times. She had been at one particular set of lips—with the sharp canine of a werefeline biting down at the lower lip seductively—for the past thirty minutes, and it never felt right whatever the changes she made. "It's just lips. I have those lips. It's my fucking lips." Maybe her self-reference pictures weren't candid enough for them to appear natural, she thought.

Ariane took off her glasses, placed them neatly on the far end of the desk, and stretched her whole length before standing up from her chair. She picked up her smartphone, grabbed her empty mug, and made her way to the kitchen. It was time for a break. She wanted coffee—that would be her second cup that morning.

On the counter was the coffee bean patterned hermetic container that contained her preferred medium roast; next to it was the manual coffee grinder she had used earlier. While she thought the effort to do it herself was tedious as she rotated the handle, Ariane found the soft, grinding noise almost peaceful—the opposite of the loud whir of an automatic grinder. She put the grounds at the bottom of a French press, poured boiling water to a satisfying height, and waited for the infusion. During that time, she scrolled through her social media, commenting and reacting to the various posts that entertained her. Once done, she slowly lowered the press until the grounds were flattened at the bottom of the container, and filled her mug with coffee. She added a bit of cream for taste.

As she sipped from her mug, Ariane was overcome with the urge to post on her social media. It had been a while; she had been barely meeting deadlines during these past few days and had neglected her accounts as a result. She looked down, gauged her decency and, after a moment of consideration and readjustments, she concluded that she looked decent enough for a selfie. She made a quick setup and snapped a few pictures with her smartphone. It was at times like these that she was glad that she bought the model with one of the best cameras—they made great reference photos for her hobbies. She took another sip and wrote down her thoughts.

Ariane Toussaint @riri.tousse - now
Remember to take breaks if you're stuck for too long! Don't force it and come back with a refreshed mindset :)

Under the captions were two pictures.

The first one was of the gallery of lips, which now included a cartoonish drawing of herself angrily gesturing at the attempts to seductive werefeline lips with the gibberish expletives above her head. Said lips were circled, and an arrow pointed at the part where the canines met the lips.

The second picture was that of a tired-looking brunette wearing a grey woolen cardigan and propping herself using her elbow on the counter with a cup of coffee at her lips; the mug was decorated with the line drawing of a highland cow. While she was holding the cup by its handle, her hand was making a thumbs up at the camera. She was leaning a bit forward, and even though the picture was not taken at a plunging angle there was the beginning of cleavage peeking above her black tank top. It wasn't anything scandalous.

Ariane was hesitating whether she wanted to include her eyes in the pictures when she saw the circles under them, but decided to go for a more candid view of her life and went for it. Satisfied, she turned the screen off and pocketed her smartphone in her cardigan. She passed by her desk in the living room, not even sparing a glance at that damned notebook, and sat on the couch. She took out her phone again and opened up her text messages. Sipping at her coffee, she sent a message to an author friend of hers; they had been texting about collaborating on a project together.

Hey, Cem! Are you free to talk about our collab?

I was thinking we could chat a little bit and see what's up? :)

10:48AM

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

credits

 

[Reverie]

INDRA

"You look marvellous," Indra chimed as Velia checked herself in the mirror. He was the sort of man who gave compliments easily, but only those he meant. Integrity failed with idle words. While he would've thought her beautiful naked with tousled hair — and he could confirm the accuracy of that statement — it certainly didn't hurt that day that she was dressed in a fine gift from him. A dress which fell perfectly over the artistic woman. A dress he gave her. Indra knew she liked it — how could she not? — but it was still a delight to see her wearing it. Especially when he had put more than a penny into getting it. Velia was beautiful, but she deserved to look fabulous, too.

"You're never wrong," he joked with a smile as she once again reassured him of his compatibility with Willow. That probably wasn't true. Even he was wrong sometimes. Not that Indra could remember a recent time when the woman had led him astray.

Velia slowed as she approached the door, eyeing him with intent. He basked in her gaze, offering what he knew to be a brilliant smile in return, one only cut short briefly to return her momentary kiss. And of course, when she offered him her arm, Indra took it. Where would his gallantry be if he didn't escort his lovely lover? Indra bent slightly to grab his suitcase with his free arm, and let the door click shut behind them. Together, arm-in-arm, the duo strolled through the hall and down to the desk, Velia checking her phone along the way.

"I don't know that I've heard that before. It's a pretty name," It wasn't really a necessary compliment, as the owner of such a name was not there to receive it, but Indra liked to share his thoughts. He also liked to hear himself talk, he could admit that.

"If you've said half as many nice things about me as you have about him, I am sure he is starstruck at the very idea of me!" The Fae's voice was light and humorous, and he mostly spoke in jest. Mostly.

"'tis a shame he doesn't have a familiar face with him, but I confess I am glad to have kept your company instead." The Fae and hybrid made their way to the front desk, and Indra finally unlocked their arms to check out with the concierge, before turning back to the woman. "If only you could be two places at once," he suggested with blatantly false sorrow.

Outside, it was raining. The front portion of the hotel was sheltered, so they did not have to stand in it, and it was quite nice falling around them. Indra found the weather slightly colder than comfortable, but tucked inside his berry red coat, he felt plenty warm except for his cheeks and nose. It was a water-resistant coat, too! He set his luggage on the ground, and shoved his hands into his pockets. His luggage was perfectly immune to the effects of rain, as well, so he had nothing to fear, but he did briefly wonder if he should have grabbed an umbrella.

The duo did not wait long before a red car matching the model arrived. The driver introduced herself as Jozette, and Indra loaded their bags into the trunk before hopping into one of the back seats.

「 @sele @PavellumPendulum 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[PavellumPendulum]

HALO

Understandably, Jax was not pleased with him about the whole croissant fiasco. Halo wilted under the sudden shift in Jax's voice, already considering pulling over to offer his apologies and promise to be less careless. Jax rarely ever took a snippy tone with him, even if he was typically much less grandiose and upfront with his emotions when they were alone. Tensed and repentant, Halo remained quiet until Jax had taken his deep sigh, his eyes on the road. "I apologize for worrying you. I... I hadn't thought to find it suspicious. But that is my fault." He was honest about it at the very least, but he did not pipe up again until they were in the house, especially since Jax had remained tightlipped.

Tragedies that came from a seemingly inoccuous story like that, for him, seemed so faraway. It was a privilege of his, of course, to not have to worry about such things. His mothers had never even though to warn him about strangers, since his entire childhood had been spent meeting them with open arms, which had continued into adulthood. But the idea of suffering finding him through his own naivete did strike a certain chord in him. His children losing one of their parents and his partners losing one of their loves... Ah, it ached too much to even consider.

And so, when he kissed the back of Jax's hand, like he always did, he lingered for longer than usual, his eyes as pitiful as a puppy's, though he did not bring the subject back up. Jax's smile, warm as his touch, tugged at both Halo's heartstrings and at the pit of his stomach. He was too beautiful, too wonderful. Such a constant joy in his life. The way that their fingers interlaced between one another... It would truly be a tragedy to lose him. Halo felt himself tremble slightly, heart already close to bursting both from possible grief and from indescribable love.

His free hand grazed against Jax's cheek affectionately, brushing against a piece of his dark hair. "I was thinking the same thing. ... You'll have to forgive me. I-I think, perhaps, I've missed you too much." he murmured, uncharacteristically unsteady in that moment, but he managed to return to himself within a few moments of searching Jax's face with his own eyes, "I prepared the studio for us. If you'd want to do some creation with me, I thought we could indulge in some pottery."

A small smile crept its way onto his face. "Though I'm somewhat tempted to indulge in you first... Patience has never been one of my talents, unfortunately."

「 @Reverie 」

code by wren.

 

[unanun]

Silly things like cream on her face would not distract her from the prize at hand—layers of fluffy sponge, waiting to be interdigitated with pillowy whipped cream and fruits so it could put on an apron of shaved chocolate. These things were unnecessary for the children to enjoy; she'd seen them eat handfuls of candy and call it a meal, so it was more for her vanity and sense of craftsmanship that she made a beautiful thing to be eaten (she vaguely remembered that it was an eastern philosophy to celebrate the impermanence of things). In the world where Miss Mayari went to the table to eat with her younger sisters, she picked up the piping bag and got to work. As the cream slowly worked its way down her cheek, she fell deeper and deeper into the hole, spinning the sponge on its turntable to perfectly level the cream, layering the berries to show their neatly cut fronts, and she didn't notice when she extended her hand imperiously into the air.

"Icing spatula!"

It was a personality from a different line of work, the overnight shift at the patisserie, where under pressure of the night she made diamonds beneath the weight of a sleeping city that relied on their store for their daily provisions. It demanded perfection, but above that, precision, and as the seconds passed the handle of the spatula was not in her palm!

"I said," as she snapped her eyes up-

The situation dawned on her for the second time, although this time it froze her with her hand outstretched.

@PavellumPendulum

 

[PavellumPendulum]

WILLOW

He could still feel his heart in his chest.

O, what a cruel mistress the skies could be! What solace could be found for mortals within screeching metal birds, slicing through the atmosphere mercilessly, the drone of cabin pressure dulling their senses and reminding them that at any moment, Apollo's arrow could strike true and send them blazing a fiery trail down to the Earth? There was not a cleric nor druid in the waking world that could soothe such earthly terrors, he was certain. Willow, looking decidedly out of place at the airport in his billowing white and blue cloak, bardic ensemble and immaculately laced courtier boots, piled into a nefarious-looking vehicle with his new friend: Ruwen.

The flight had truly been harrowing. He'd spent the beginning of it sitting completely rigid, having closed the window and wanting nothing to do with the view outside. His lungs had failed him as his fingers had dug into the uncomfortable arm rests, the tears stinging his eyes in the dry cabin air. He hated being whisked away by machinery, whether by air or by land. Truly, it felt like he would never grow used to being catapulted hundreds of miles an hour through space, but one had to make sacrifices for theatre. He could not miss this show, especially not when Velia would be there, with the promise of a new friend to boot. This Indra fellow, according to Velia, would be a kindred soul. What a gift it was, to live in a time when such promises could be made!

He'd already made one friend today, but he could only consider that the tender hand of the Gods, many and multiple as they were, having mercy on him.

Ruwen was a dashing man, one who had taken to spending the entire flight coaxing him into untensing his jaw so that he did not chip a tooth. He was valiant indeed, a man for whom songs were written. Willow West, of all people, would not forget a kindness gifted to him like this, never. "Merveille Hall, my good sir." he asked with all the enthusiasm he could muster to the taxi driver, attempting the flourish of a bow within his seat, though it looked more clumsy than anything. In spite of his body still recovering from fight or flight, he could still show manners!

"Dearest Ruwen, have you heard of The Importance of Being Earnest?" he questioned, since he had not posed the question when inviting the other man to join him and his friends in their outing as a show of his thanks, "Genevieve Walters is more than something of a modern day Shakespeare, you see. Her works shine with familiarity that rings throughout the ages, yet somehow always bold and refreshing. Old and new, all at once." His ramblings soothed him, his trunk posing as a suitcase wedged between his legs since he'd refused to be separated from it.

「 @Reverie @sele @MaryGold 」

code by wren.

 

[wanderingcoder]

A conversation with Cemraelle in New Tokyo City...
​

ARIANE

Her phone emitted a low vibration and a catchy jingle soon after she placed it on the coffee table. She had received a text message. Knowing who it must have been from, Ariane put her half-emptied mug on the nearest coaster and picked up her device. She unlocked it and made her way to the messaging app, noting the obvious notification badge above its icon. Her most recent conversation appeared onscreen:

hey girl! yea, talk to me. im covered in post-its rn. this book has been GREEDY for my attention

10:50AM

Ariane snorted at the response, particularly enjoying how Cemraelle wrote her texts. Knowing how she was, she might literally be swimming in them. She had an answer in mind, though mostly untyped as she took a sip of now lukewarm coffee. Her nose wrinkled. That wouldn't do. She picked up the mug, went back to the kitchen, and heated her drink in the microwave for twenty seconds. Someone once told her that a kitten died whenever one would microwave their coffee. N'importe quoi. The appliance sounded out a were-compliant beeping, and she tested the coffee with a satisfied hum.

She took her time typing her response with one thumb, resulting in her receiving another message from Cemraelle as soon as she sent hers:

Oh shit, that much?! I hope you can find the way out of your office!

were you still thinking of flying in sometime btw? if moneys an issue, ive got no problems getting you over here. would b good to work in person too!

10:53AM

Oooh, that's right—they did discuss her coming over to New Tokyo for in-person collaboration. All these recent contracts and commissions made her forget about everything else.

Still do, yes! Let me check something real quick ~

10:54AM

Her lips formed a thin line as she made a quick search on the net for plane ticket prices. She found out that they weren't as expensive as she thought. She considered her budget—she made sure to keep a tight grip on it since she moved to Black City—and concluded that she could afford the luxury of travelling. Ariane congratulated herself on her thriftiness as she responded:

Money is no issue for plane tickets! How long should I stay over? I'll be prepping on my side to get my stuff in order.

Super happy to work in person with you btw!

10:57AM

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

credits

 

[Reverie]

ANNIKA

The sound of his own name grated on his ears. Annika no longer immediately hated being recognized. He didn't immediately need to put a knife into someone's throat for knowing him. There were plenty of respectable people who knew his name now. Business contacts, mostly. He did, however, want to sink his steak knife deep into the throat of this particular voice.

Iver.

Annika stared at the man in disbelief. He hoped his eyes conveyed the disdain he felt, and the harm he wanted to do. Why was Iver even talking to him? Iver had never been his friend or anything close to a friend. They were only two people who had shared brief encounters in Cervia's worst city. Why did Iver even remember him? Shouldn't he have forgotten Annika amongst all the fancy company he kept?

Unfortunately, 'fuck off' was not the most sociably acceptable response to the situation, and Annika was still in the company of a lord. In a fancy restaurant. One he expected to return to again, sometime, assuming he didn't make some kind of scene.

"We're rather occupied," Annika tried. He even tried to say it gently. Tried. As he said it, his blue eyes jumped back to his dinner companion, as if to make a point. Kraus sat gawking, wide-eyes fixed on the intruder. Slowly, glacially, Kraus' eyes shifted to Annika. There was a lot of confusion in them.

"Oh, you two are friends?" He asked, through so very much suspicion. Jealous, much? The hybrid considered denying it, but that would definitely prompt a reply from the blond Vampir, and he wanted Iver to say as little as possible and then leave. Preferably nothing. Preferably, he could drop dead right there.

Annika snorted when Iver asked if they were married. That was—

"Him?!" Kraus asked with forceful surprise. "Unquestionably not!"

"What?" Annika forgot to say it with anything resembling grace. I should be the offended one! Kraus' expression softened slightly as Annika continued to stare at him with vicious intent.

"Do forgive me, you're delightful company." But—? "You're hardly someone fit for my status." Annika knew he could never be more than a treat for men like Kraus, but it still brought out the petty part of him to hear it.

"And your wife might mind," Annika added with the sweetest smile he could muster. Kraus' laugh was a little too long, and far too nervous. You think I didn't know, bitch? He wanted to amend, but forced a little chuckle instead. Kraus cleared his throat.

"Erm, no, definitely not married. Business acquaintances."

No, shut up, idiot.

"Where are my manners?" Annika interrupted, forcing a change in topic. It wouldn't be a better vein of conversation, but at least it gave him a little bit of control over the conversation again. Maybe he could try to bore Iver into going away. "Lord Otto Kraus, this is Iver Vlahos."

Who was, unfortunately, still there.

「 @MaryGold 」

Code by wren.

 

[sele]

fae-gargoyle hybrid | fae-dominant traits | artist for 'heresiart.'

Location: Rideshare with Indra toward Merveille Hall. | Tag: @Reverie 's Indra, @PavellumPendulum 's Willow (#soon:tm:), @MaryGold (Yay, Ruwan inc!)
──────────────────────────── ˖ ────────────────────────────​

As to how much – and in what way – Velia had spoken to Willow about Indra, she let Indra enjoy the mystery of it by having only given him a knowing smile that had mostly lived in her eyes.

She'd laughed with Indra's selfish humor – as ever, the fae's confidence was a succulent delight. Surely it'd be an ambrosia that Willow would savor, too.

Where they'd waited for their car to arrive, Velia's eye was pulled toward the street. It was drenched, muting many of the base colors into something matching and monotone. City lights caught in diffused reflection against the subdued mirror the weather made of sidewalks, pavement, and windows. She made note of the contrasts, as well as the scents – and the feeling of being slightly, almost chilly, but sheltered. That safe sensation at the edge of adventure.

More, she kept the feeling that she herself was about to embark on something genuinely meaningful. She hoped that lives would shift based on how that particular evening would go. She held memories of Indra and Willow's laughter in her mind – from separate occasions – and brought them together in her mind.

The scene, with all of it's sensations, imprinted within the artist's mind. She'd recreate a version of this one day.
Jozette's red car arrived, and in slipped Indra and Velia. Their driver was a pleasant, cheery woman. She offered some initial conversation, but then eased back to allow her passengers their own bubble within her vehicle.

Velia slid a hand over Indra's nearest. She didn't need to verbally reiterate how well she anticipated the evening – it lived in her touch warming over his knuckles and curling around the side of his fingers. It existed in the hint of a smile that kept itself curled at the end of her mouth.

In a way, she also felt like she was giving Indra away – and her sweet Willow, too. Happily so, but she loved them each in their brilliant, special ways. She'd seen enthusiasm burst between acquaintances who should have long already known each other – and she hoped to see that between Indra and Willow. Let them fill each other's waking hours with breathless excitement, and their suddenly restless slumber with anticipation.

Velia's phone lit up. She glanced down.

"Oh." She hummed a surprised note, giving a flickering, brief glance toward Indra to include him on the matter.

"Willow's plane landed early, he's already in a taxi toward the venue. He says he's made a friend to bring along, too." This was how Velia summarized Willow's – naturally – post-flight frantic energy.

"Jozette, darling? Please reroute from the airport to Merveille Hall." Their driver politely obliged.

"We're to meet them – Willow and his friend, how sweet that he'd made one during an unpleasant experience – just inside the entrance reception hall, to the right end. How fortunate, I had a spare ticket and thought it'd go to waste."

The evening, painted in rain and diffused city lights – in hopes, anticipation, and thrill, and bittersweet affection, too – seemed only to become a more lovely one.

"Tell me something warm and cool as summer shadows." Velia hummed while she eased her eyes mostly shut to admire whatever Indra might have to say. He enjoyed speaking, and she enjoyed the way he experienced the world.

credits

 

[PavellumPendulum]

MAYARI

Hilda ignored her, allowing the cream to drip further down her face, an apparent zen overtaking her when working on her cake. Normally, Mayari would be impressed by the focus, but she found herself being somewhat miffed at being cast aside so easily. Before she could even make a faintly sulky comment, maybe even a halfway flirty one about it though, Hilda's hand flew up, nearly catching her in the face with a hefty smack. Mayari felt the whiff of air pass her cheek, the flash of a sugary scent passing her by. The sudden movement had forced the dollop of cream to drop straight off of Hilda's face, leaving a white splotch on the top of her maid's dress.

She barked an order.

Mayari stared at her at first, raising a brow. There was no reason to make any move in response, so she did not, at least not until Hilda's eyes met hers and the situation seemed to dawn on her. That expression, in turn, made Mayari chuckle quietly, before she brushed past her and padded towards the various well-stocked cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, to silently search for wherever the hell these rich people kept their icing spatulas. Whatever that was.

She held up a cake server with a mildly amused expression over her shoulder, after having sorted through various utensils and determining that they were not related to cake-making. "... This thing, or what?"

「 @unanun 」

code by wren.