purgastory inbox

[oversea]

HELLO

"What do you want?"

GOODBYE

TEXT | VIDEO | VOICE | ACTION

Comments

[isdf]

[He, too, looks to them. Well?

She exploded his eleventh iteration, and now she wants cake. He's the one who survived for another year(?). This development makes him so very happy.]

[glub]

[ pretends he doesn't see them looking his way

even if he is also smiling. ]

[untrusted]

[ she pouts playfully....? (genuine) ]

It's time to poison people, Yuma.

[glub]

Wait— what?

[ MEDEA!?!? NOOOO ]

[untrusted]

[ ? ]

I don't bake. I have chefs.

[glub]

Yeah, but how bad can you be?

[ she seemed reasonable... surely her food would also be equally reasonable. ]

[untrusted]

Will you taste test something I make?

[glub]

Sure, even if you're kinda freaking me out now.

[ does he regret this commitment. ]

[untrusted]

I'm not any different.

[ she's just happy, peaceful, whimsical, and chaotic.... totally normal. ]

[glub]

[ sadly, he is too happy to be convinced otherwise.

so he gladly accepts her words at face value, and her cooking. ]

Fiine, fine. I'll be the first to taste test then.

[untrusted]

[ happiness is a drug that addles the mind. ]

No one from my home can know.

[ in the very, very slim chance a hallucination of someone she knows show ups. ]

[glub]

... You're pretty sensitive about this, huh?

[ but sure. he makes the zipping motion over his mouth.

but, wait... how would he know if her family shows up? ]

[untrusted]

It'd merely be a headache if they found out. I'd have to console them.

[ they'd be jealous of rafayel even if whatever medea made was mediocre or worse. ]

[glub]

And? How would you console them?

[ he's actually pretty curious. ]

[untrusted]

[ she reaches up to cup his cheeks in her hands. ]

[glub]

[ he doesn't pull away. doesn't flinch either. ] Just this? No words?

[untrusted]

Pick if you're a marquess, a count's daughter, or the disowned son of a duke.

[glub]

What, prince wasn't an option? [ ... ] I'll go with the marquess. Seems like less drama.

[untrusted]

[ okay


medea is so cursed that at the mention of prince, her revulsion surfaces enough to cut through the forced happiness to twist her expression for a split second. ]

The prince would plot your murder within the week.

[ said as a joke but it's not a joke at all. ]

I don't want to console him, but as for the marquess....

[ her hands gently slide from his face, over to his shoulders, down his arms until she reaches his hands and hooks one of his pinkies with hers. ]

I promise I'll arrange something that's for you and you only. You know I know your tastes better than anyone.

[isdf]

Poison? Why?

[untrusted]

You don't know how to bake a cake, and I have never had the need to before.

[isdf]

Are you suggesting that our combined skill level is so low that the recipe, even if verbalized to us, will turn lethal? . . . That is a concern.

[untrusted]

I was being facetious.

[ a joke, haha. full of whimsy. ]

[isdf]

[Oh.]

You were quite convincing. Does that mean we'll be okay, then?

[untrusted]

... You will find out.