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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[She curtsies all fancy like, smooth and elegant.]
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[and she bows in return]
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If you want a surname rather than a just a nickname, mine is Marsh.
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[her voice is pleasant. finally, someone who understands manners!!!]
Truly, if you would like anything else with more salt, it would not be a problem, though I could fetch some for you to add--salt and sweetness is, as you know, often a lovely complement. It would pair well with the mousse, I believe.
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