๐๐พ๐ถ๐ช๐ท๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ ๐๐ช๐ผ ๐ท๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ช๐ซ๐ต๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ธ ๐ฌ๐ธ๐ท๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ช๐ต ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ผ ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ผ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ธ ๐ฌ๐ธ๐ท๐ฝ๐ป๐ธ๐ต ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฎ ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ท๐ผ. . . { #HSRRP } { #GIRP }
MINORS DNI
Joined January 2022
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โ Perhaps you require a bit more love to be shown to you. โ
She takes a drink of her coffee ones more.
Once she sets it down, she returns her gaze to Swan.
โ Your room shall be the same as last time. โ
โ Perish the thought, I've had no intentions of harming you. . . Despite my last words spoken to you. โ
She sat across from the other.
Her own cup of coffee perfect in her hand.
โ What brings you here Miss Swan? โ
" Come now madam Herta, work is all well and good. . . But one must have at least a moment of clarity without it.
Let us leave that sort of talk for the offices okay? "
-- focus her gaze onto the undead.
" It does. It is a protected historical property after all. "
How exactly it came to be that she is not aware. But it was. She went herself to make sure it was just the same.
" It also houses the perfect picnic spot for --
The glass of her own whisky in hand. She swirled the contents of the drink as she waited for Kafka to hyper analyze her surroundings and most importantly Himeko herself.
It is something she has found Kafka does after her transformation, only really known after their --
"I'll refrain from debating the element of surprise.
To me, darling, all is destined."
While Hunter and Navigator each mastered the art of keeping people at a distance, by virtue of being a superior deceiver, one always prevailed over the other.
Diverting focus to the circumstances facilitating her covert arrival, naught but a smokescreen. Upon arrival, the 'how' no longer mattered, Kafka was here to stay.
As to smoothen over the tense exchange, nimble fingers clad in white-suede gloves, reached for a pocket-full of cash; Generously covering Himeko's bar tab.
"Referring to this- Overgrown arcade machine as our home, I find myself nigh-offended by the mere notion. Earnestly, have you come across even one familiar structure?"
Benzaitengoku no longer stood, Planarcadia supplanted it in whirlwind fashion.
However thoroughly the reports and current script had covered said development; Even Kafka's blunted sentimentality found herself confronted, by a sense of uprooted dissonance.
Downing what was left of her scotch in a single tip of crystaline glass, lens-veiled eyes begun to wander and scanned the surrounding premises for prying eyes and ears. An obvious preamble, because soon enough; That shameless gaze landed upon a view of great, ample interest. One which, Kafka suspected, her wife deliberately laid out as bait.
"Seeing as neither of us appears keen on 'spilling', allow me to table the overarching stakes and ask something, only you and I consider important.
Our tree. . . Does it remain?"
