Amane Kawanokami | 川ノ神 天峰 | 80H (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
voreaciously) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
auroraexpress2019-05-28 01:08 am
voreaciously) wrote in auroraexpress2019-05-28 01:08 am
Entry tags:
[BOND]
Who: 80H and you! Eat, drink, and be merry! It's a mingle.
When: Day 25, afternoon
Where: The Lounge
In Jasmine
[Within Jasmine's tremendous new kitchen is a flurry of activity, a storm of leashed chaos, and in the eye stands 80H, cooking and baking up a storm.
Ever prepared, however, she's cooked meals for the rest of the car so they do not have to worry about fending for themselves while she's taken over the space. It's all neatly labeled and delicious. She starts early evening and if you come down for a midnight snack or glass of water, she's still at it. Different times of day warrant different aromas. Savoury, sweet, herbal, blends of lavender and vanilla, citrus and cloves.
And the warmth.
It feels nice in here from all the baking, not oppressively hot, but looking at her, it's difficult to tell if she feels any of it at all. She seems like an icy singularity, divorced from her own reality even she carefully, delicately makes mille-feuille for it.]
In the Lounge
[80H is not in her uniform (shut up, Crow, it's still fucking legit) for the most part, instead wearing Jasmine's sweeping skirt, bunched top, and sandals, though she keeps her blindfold, tied in a bow at the side of her head with ribbons. Blue, silver, purple.
Marigold.
She wheels out a long cart made of crystal covered by a light blue tablecloth that dips oscillates between transparency and translucency, fading into nothingness at the edges. It reflects prismatic colours in crystalline shapes, but despite the edges of the reflections, it looks light as air and soft as silk.
Upon it sit myriad desserts on plates of various sizes, though many are single serve. They, too, are crystalline and clear, delicately shaped, but belying sturdiness. Creme brulee torched to perfection, tarts of all kinds, mille-feuille, delicately baked, round cheesecakes with a thick drizzle made of native berries, mousse made with the same, and thin biscuits dipped in dark chocolate and marbled with white.
In various crystal pots are tea. She would have liked to have more, but there's a fair selection all the same. The pots are transparent and so the colours are immediately visible and she's taken care to arrange them in a most pleasing away along the table.]
I would humbly suggest you try something.
[She will say this to anyone and everyone, and if she is not stopped, she will stand well away, but present.]
When: Day 25, afternoon
Where: The Lounge
In Jasmine
[Within Jasmine's tremendous new kitchen is a flurry of activity, a storm of leashed chaos, and in the eye stands 80H, cooking and baking up a storm.
Ever prepared, however, she's cooked meals for the rest of the car so they do not have to worry about fending for themselves while she's taken over the space. It's all neatly labeled and delicious. She starts early evening and if you come down for a midnight snack or glass of water, she's still at it. Different times of day warrant different aromas. Savoury, sweet, herbal, blends of lavender and vanilla, citrus and cloves.
And the warmth.
It feels nice in here from all the baking, not oppressively hot, but looking at her, it's difficult to tell if she feels any of it at all. She seems like an icy singularity, divorced from her own reality even she carefully, delicately makes mille-feuille for it.]
In the Lounge
[80H is not in her uniform (shut up, Crow, it's still fucking legit) for the most part, instead wearing Jasmine's sweeping skirt, bunched top, and sandals, though she keeps her blindfold, tied in a bow at the side of her head with ribbons. Blue, silver, purple.
Marigold.
She wheels out a long cart made of crystal covered by a light blue tablecloth that dips oscillates between transparency and translucency, fading into nothingness at the edges. It reflects prismatic colours in crystalline shapes, but despite the edges of the reflections, it looks light as air and soft as silk.
Upon it sit myriad desserts on plates of various sizes, though many are single serve. They, too, are crystalline and clear, delicately shaped, but belying sturdiness. Creme brulee torched to perfection, tarts of all kinds, mille-feuille, delicately baked, round cheesecakes with a thick drizzle made of native berries, mousse made with the same, and thin biscuits dipped in dark chocolate and marbled with white.
In various crystal pots are tea. She would have liked to have more, but there's a fair selection all the same. The pots are transparent and so the colours are immediately visible and she's taken care to arrange them in a most pleasing away along the table.]
I would humbly suggest you try something.
[She will say this to anyone and everyone, and if she is not stopped, she will stand well away, but present.]
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[Her voice grows a little quieter.]
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Naturally. But you put so much effort into it. That's, um, very, er, s-sweet of you.
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[WHY DOES EVERYONE GET WEIRD WHEN SHE GIVES THEM PERSONAL TITLES
god anyway.]
...It is simply odd to me, that is all.
[She did not do any of this because she wants people to have nice things, she just wants to get as many sparks as possible and yet sharing her ulterior motives doesn't seem to matter.
It's weird.]
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[It's honestly really kind of embarrassing to be called something like that?
She takes a bite of a tart!]
Oh! It is very good.
Well, that is okay. Having Sparks is nice. And the process that facilitates it is pretty nice too. Even if that prince still annoys me.
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[Oh, but she likes the tart. That is good.]
Ah, I am glad. There are no issues with it?
pgd she hates bonding though
except for the sex one that can stay]
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Not at all. It's really good.
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[She is blushing very slightly.]
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Um, l-likewise!
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[Sampling a cheese cake now.]
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I thought that you were doing this for yourself, though?
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But would you eat my cooking at least if I ever arranged an event like this? Not that I necessarily would. I'm less confident in my abilities.
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Okay, look. She is an asshole. She knows it, she isn't going to change it, but she has specific anxieties about cooking and she could not, in good conscience, pass that on if she can avoid it.]
It was not a matter of confidence, I am simply used to this. But yes, I would eat your cooking. You could start smaller.