purgastory inbox

[oversea]

HELLO

"What do you want?"

GOODBYE

TEXT | VIDEO | VOICE | ACTION

Comments

[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.

[glub]

[ that bad...

too bad rafayel is too happy right now to catch that subtle nuance. or maybe he processes it, and still can't help but find pleasure in the honesty she reveals. ]

You think he can?

[ challenging, but in a peppy way. that is, before she feels her hands draw down to his shoulders, arms, and his finger wraps arounds hers in turn. ]

The marquess must either be a simple man, or just a very lucky one.

[ she must care deeply for him, or that's the impression rafayel gets. ]

[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.