ichoriaI

@world618，    a café?  (hm..)  [more often than not, she forgets that not everyone who crossed her path shared the same peculiar fondness. what seemed perfectly ordinary to her was often anything but.]  i do know of one,  yes..  it's tucked away just beyond the old gardens.  it's quite easy to miss,   unless you're looking for it.  their rose milk tea is absolutely delicious,  i always order it.   [a small pause follows before she brightens ever so slightly,  already taking a few leisurely steps, she glances back over her shoulder.]    come,  i'll show you.  it's terribly easy to get lost around here.

do you know where the nearest cafe would be?  ♫꒰･‿･๑꒱

Oh? The others?  [Polite smile wavers just slightly. Teeth chews at the inside of his cheeks out of pure habit—his posture (somewhat) stiffens at the mere mention of ‘them’.]  No, no, I wouldn’t want that either.. (Ahem), You’re always going on your little adventures. You’re too curious for your own good. Please, you should be careful. You’ll make me worry.. What if something terrible happens?  [Hypocritical, yet he says it anyway with an amused smile, then quickly directs the topic. His hand is outstretched, palm facing upward.]  Well, I’ll go with you first. No others. They’re awfully noisy, anyway. And no.. unpleasant surprises.

@2deglove，   [how curious to see her invitation denied without thought. a withdrawal of her hand,  bruised fingers disappearing into the folds of her sleeve. for a moment,  she simply looks at him.]  (oh...)  ah—don't be so silly!  if i truly intended to lure you into a maze,  i certainly wouldn't warn you beforehand.  [a light laugh follows; whether it was a joke remains unclear.  at least there was her sweet smile.]   must you ruin the fun of a surprise?  truly,  i only wanted to show you an abandoned garden i found during my little adventure today.  [for a moment, she appears to consider it. then her nose wrinkles ever so slightly, the expression oddly rabbit-like,]   would you rather me show the others first instead,  but what if i don't want to?

i try to say the right things.. (ah), did i forget to mention how unsettling i find you?  [twice, of course, perhaps he’s stalling for time; or making simple, meaningless small talk, even though he dislikes the idea of it.]  of course, i don’t mean to offend. it’s a.. unique trait to have.  [a polite smile. awkward. too on–brand with him. he does not accept the inviting hand afore him, nor does comment on the bunny’s bruised flesh, preferring to hold his sharp tongue and just dial down the gnawing curiosity.]  w–wait, hold on, please. i’d like to know what’d you like to show me first. and, please, if it’s a hedge maze, i will be running for my dear life like a rabbit.

* @newheir，OH YOU'RE TOO KIND!! thank you <33 

@ivampsuckyerblood，    [without another word,  she continues on deeper within the estate.  fingertips trail absently along polished banisters and aged walls alike,  each touch so familiar it borders on affectionate.  only once she's certain he's following does she speak again.]  mm? oh.. yes,  i do live here— it's rather large,   isn't it?  [a quiet hum follows,  searching for the right words.]  i have visitors— (friends!),  they come and go as they please.  my home is theirs,  so as long as they chose to follow the rules.  [a moment,  her smile softens to appear more genuine.]  is chamomile with honey alright with you?  it's what i had prepared before you came. i hope you don't mind.

@ichoriaI        unfortunately not,      [felize replies, but the vampire does not indulge on the truth. he remembers faintly that he enjoyed the carrot cake his mother prepared, but human food didn’t taste the same as it did when he was alive.]      red velvet is a good choice, i’ve always liked it as well. although i prefer black forest cake, i’ve learned.      [the red-head muses, following quietly behind the woman as his honeycomb orifices observe their surroundings.]      you live in this house? it’s quite spacious. 

@ivampsuckyerblood，     [she caught it. the hesitation. not toward the tea,  but the cake.  for a moment,  the bunny says nothing.  instead,  she allows her gaze to linger with quiet interest,  a blink.  then another.  her head tilts slightly.]   ..you're not particularly fond of desserts?  how fortunate,   for you—i mean.  (my tastes have always been a little unusual..)  the only cake available this evening happens to be red velvet.  my favorite(!)  [the mere thought seems enough to brighten her tired features,  genuine excitement finding its way to her tongue.]   i must admit,  i've been told it isn't to everyone's taste,   it's a bit.. hard on the stomach,   to some.  [she offers a small shrug, innocent enough.  whatever makes the recipe so divisive remains conspicuously unexplained.]   but please—–follow me this way,   the tea is almost ready.

* @2deglove，Hip hip hooray!!! 

*  I’ll send U lines soon.. ^_^

* @2deglove，Heheheheh! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

* I'll cook the rest...later.

(The White Rabbit)  had always found it difficult to admire something without wishing to keep it..   /   a troublesome habit,  most certainly.  perhaps that was why it wandered so often.  through forgotten gardens and forests,  most creatures knew better than to chase every curiosity.  the white rabbit did not.  it lingered before locked doors.  collected secrets from willing lips.  gathered beautiful things and tucked them safely away,  where no one else could claim them.  after all,  what was the purpose of discovering something marvelous only to leave it behind?  [AND WHAT WAS A SINGLE BITE,  WHEN THE FEAST WAS SO EXQUISITE?]

[RABBIT AND WOLF]:   said the rabbit to the wolf,  "devour me whole;  flesh and bone,  and leave me naught by myself but myself intertwined with your senses.  remember me through your hunt,  you have taken my life and i will live through yours." 

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*  For a quick refresher,  bunny (her nickname) aka aishah is from an aristocratic society whose motto is “eat the rich,” which in the name itself makes it quite obvious what she is.. a cannibal.  gentle voice,  oddly unsettling,  delicate posture,  rabbit-like,  a little mad,  loves animals..  etc! 

the darkness behind his eyes bursts into gardens of deadly nightshades at her choice of words. hunger. drive. instinct. the feeling of wine colored liquid running down the sides of his fingers and the prize of bruises. wonders how she looks feral with starvation and at the edge of madness. he'd quite like to go hunting with her one evening. "that's my girl." he cleans her up to the best of his ability but even he knows that you do not have to be pure to be rid of nature. "one must feast for health for it is of most importance. no need to beg for temptation to leave when you could simply give into it." fighting it, however, was intriguing to watch from an outsider's perspective. he releases a brief laugh. "and who said that I did not care? I care for all of my friends."

@saintbled，    [the sensation—linen meeting flesh, and blood meeting cloth—it sits somewhere between pain and penance.   her hand tenses at moments,  and  then releases at others.  from the pulsating stings that bites her hand to the tremors of ease,  Bunny could only catch the ghost of a breath.]      “This one wasn’t a hen.   a crow,   perhaps?    it was mean with clever eyes.”    [She flexes her fingers,   subtly.   beneath the  skin,    blood had already begun to pool—silent violets,   and sickly blues blossoming like petals along her knuckles and wrist,   leading to decorate her body like the canvas she is.]    “It fought back,   but..i was hungry.”    [Rich,  red,  and half–feral───she savors the memory in fragments:   bathed in the brown of the earth and the red of flesh,   that was all she allowed herself to remember.]   “Careful,   you seem to care more than what you lead on..mathis.”

they all go into the ground one way or another. he shoots her a secretive yet mildy amused look as she playfully mocks him but says nothing more. he nods approvingly to bunny as she reaches for the piece of cloth. "good." and takes it upon himself to dap the blood within her palms. the clean, white linen greedily takes the crimson. it licks it up like a dehydrated dog that whines for more and more. mathis's hues gaze up until they meet her own. he rotates her wrist, checking for measurements that he simply missed. he sounds at ease in that english accent and english coat of his. "and which little hen did you catch this time?" soil tends to clump together, leaving him wondering if it will take more time to dig it out. or which tools will be necessary for cleaning underneath the nail.