07-13-2018, 06:58 PM
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Hazel made a quiet sound of distress as Suiteheart came bounding up, looking much like Hazel felt these days. She’d forgotten that Suite was now a newly turned vampire — in other words, someone incapable of eating regular food. It was ridiculous, how that rule worked, and she’d already witnessed it wreck Margaery. She wasn’t ready to see Suite ashen-faced and glassy-eyed, bloodthirsty and scared of hurting everyone. It would be the whole polar bear fiasco all over again.
“Thank you, Suite.” Hazel purred, watching her sadly. “But you can’t have one. You can’t eat this kind of food anymore, remember?” She reminded her friend. She was shifting out of reach of the white feline when Roman approached, distracting her from Suite. She’d remembered his name best out of perhaps all the joiners she’d met, having liked his the best. Idly, she wondered if he’d speak Latin, too. “Of course not.” Hazel smiled, extending the plate to him. “I certainly can’t eat them all on my own.”
Then Arion was there, hooves clopping eagerly against the earth as Hazel set the plate of lemon bars on the ground. He shoved his head at them, eager to steal a treat. Hazel yelped and lunged, placing herself between his mouth and the dessert. “Arion, no!” She whined, taking a swipe at his muzzle. “Every time.” She complained. “How many times are we going to play this game? Just because you helped make it doesn’t mean you get one.” And wow, that sounded less harsh in her brain. “Figures,” Titanium drawled, “you only have the balls to stand up to your pony.” Hazel sighed at that, shooing Arion away with an experienced paw.
Luckily, Anzarel saved her from a depressing spiral into self-deprecation. Hazel looked up, admittedly unable to recognize the giant feline. He was enormous, though — with an ancient look about him. She flushed when he addressed her as “my lady,” happy with the respect she found in his voice. It felt a lot like praise, she found. “You’re welcome to them, sir. I made them to share.” She responded, waiting for a name to call him by even if she felt like “sir” might be more appropriate than any name. When presented with it, she dipped her head. “Pleasure to meet you, Anzarel. I’m Hazel.”
Hazel crumpled a little more when Margy appeared next to Suite, reiterating the hands-off policy on food. “Sorry,” The girl apologized a little miserably. She’d make something with feline blood if she wasn’t so...squeamish about it. “I hope I made them the way your mother did,” She said quietly, knowing Caroline was a very sensitive topic with Margy. “I, uh — it’s a recipe from her cookbook. That you gave me.” Wow, this was going smoothly. “A while a go.”
[sup]c) miithers[/sup]
[align=center]hazel elise caelum . nine months . the ascendants . golden girl . tags
Hazel made a quiet sound of distress as Suiteheart came bounding up, looking much like Hazel felt these days. She’d forgotten that Suite was now a newly turned vampire — in other words, someone incapable of eating regular food. It was ridiculous, how that rule worked, and she’d already witnessed it wreck Margaery. She wasn’t ready to see Suite ashen-faced and glassy-eyed, bloodthirsty and scared of hurting everyone. It would be the whole polar bear fiasco all over again.
“Thank you, Suite.” Hazel purred, watching her sadly. “But you can’t have one. You can’t eat this kind of food anymore, remember?” She reminded her friend. She was shifting out of reach of the white feline when Roman approached, distracting her from Suite. She’d remembered his name best out of perhaps all the joiners she’d met, having liked his the best. Idly, she wondered if he’d speak Latin, too. “Of course not.” Hazel smiled, extending the plate to him. “I certainly can’t eat them all on my own.”
Then Arion was there, hooves clopping eagerly against the earth as Hazel set the plate of lemon bars on the ground. He shoved his head at them, eager to steal a treat. Hazel yelped and lunged, placing herself between his mouth and the dessert. “Arion, no!” She whined, taking a swipe at his muzzle. “Every time.” She complained. “How many times are we going to play this game? Just because you helped make it doesn’t mean you get one.” And wow, that sounded less harsh in her brain. “Figures,” Titanium drawled, “you only have the balls to stand up to your pony.” Hazel sighed at that, shooing Arion away with an experienced paw.
Luckily, Anzarel saved her from a depressing spiral into self-deprecation. Hazel looked up, admittedly unable to recognize the giant feline. He was enormous, though — with an ancient look about him. She flushed when he addressed her as “my lady,” happy with the respect she found in his voice. It felt a lot like praise, she found. “You’re welcome to them, sir. I made them to share.” She responded, waiting for a name to call him by even if she felt like “sir” might be more appropriate than any name. When presented with it, she dipped her head. “Pleasure to meet you, Anzarel. I’m Hazel.”
Hazel crumpled a little more when Margy appeared next to Suite, reiterating the hands-off policy on food. “Sorry,” The girl apologized a little miserably. She’d make something with feline blood if she wasn’t so...squeamish about it. “I hope I made them the way your mother did,” She said quietly, knowing Caroline was a very sensitive topic with Margy. “I, uh — it’s a recipe from her cookbook. That you gave me.” Wow, this was going smoothly. “A while a go.”
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better