Snippet #981873

"Don't tell me you're going to be eating puss sopped up on a piece of bread, then. Because that's what you eat when you are dead." Her voice took on an ominous tone at the latter sentence, an eerie expression crawling nto her face. This was what Quintessence had gained from mourning. The morbid sense couldn't even fit to her well, but it never stopped the rhymes from jangling in her head like a broken tambourine that never silenced. The morbidity, in her opinion, could only be the result of the death of true love accompanied by the far from perfect circumstances. 'In a perfect situation, I let love down the drain.' She remembered well the many nights she had fallen asleep through silent tears, curled uncomfortably close in her captor's arms and ever dreaming of the day she would be free. Alas, 'twas not to be. 'When I am buried, at least I was married...'

It wasn't hard to see that she was glad for someone to fit in with, and she happily relinquished his tray to cross the threshhold. "Gratzi! Nice to meet you too, Raziel. What an elegantly different name." Hazel embers derailed out of slight embarrassment from the comment. Who used words like elegant anymore? Though, she slid into her seat with hardly a hitch and dug into her own meal, legs crossing under the seat as if she wore a dress instead of the hideous coveralls. Quin's mouth had just opened to accept another bite of the oatmeal-like substance when his exclamation startled her, a slight jump preceeding the drop of her spoon back into the bowl."Mhm, cinnamin. I added it. I hope that's alright. I-I always make pancakes that way. Fresh
blueberries too. I believe they taste better with an extra touch of love, and well... Afterall, you didn't have the best morning."

Shrugging a bit in return, a smile momentarily lit up her own features. How many times had she made pancakes for one beloved Seraphim? It was enough to jog memory all over again no matter how hard she willed it away. The sun had never shown brighter on the early spring day, but it had yet to beat her rising. In the kitchen of a 'cottage' of sorts, a youth bustled about the kitchen, both cleaning and making a mess as she made the usual breakfast for one special neighbor. The smell of blueberry pancakes was ever in the air, a hardwood tray set out to add plates, utensils, a glass of orange juice, and a small amount of daisies in another glass. As soon as Quintessence had scooped the last of the pancakes to the plate and added the syrup dispenser, she was off through the kitchen door. Though merely a ripe fourteen, she had already found her own independence and no need to be separated from her best friend, along with a healthy liking for old-fashioned clothing. All it took was the short walk through the maze of buildings and a couple rocks tossed to get that familiar face awake -- She was always early. 6:15 am at the latest. Once windows opened and a sleepy smile was aimed her way, the day was automatically made. It was only made better when he'd pulled her into his room and into her arms. Safe there, she could do anything. But it wasn't meant to last...

It wasn't the lack of butter in her food, but the glance around his room that broke her reverie. Drawings everywhere, but it was a certain few that stood out the most and stopped her heart. A ballerina, and not just any either. Herself. The thought was shaken away with a decisive shake of her head. No one there knew she was a dancer. She hadn't danced in what felt like years. "You're... An amazing artist," she finally uttered in a near breathless whisper, toying with her bracelet and ducking her head. "Is that your girlfriend you've drawn? She must miss you so with you being on the Pioneer and all."