𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐀.

i used up everything for luocha... starting the grind again for blade

Her lips parted in gentle astonishment. It would have been quite the feat for anyone to have gone and orchestrated a production of this scale within the time she'd been gone, much less for someone who'd been for all intents and purposes medically DECEASED a mere matter of hours prior.

"You've been busy. Are your injuries not bothering you?"

Shutting the door quietly behind her, she shrugged off her coat, carefully draping it over the rack just adjacent to the doorframe, airing out the cloying limescale musk of fresh blood. The reveal of his culinary talent had once been an unexpected one, but Kafka had always known that there'd been something more to the hobby than a throwaway desire to quench his boredom.

Over time, it'd become more than an occasional surprise. She'd come to know the flavours and dishes he preferred and so had he begun to learn her NUANCES - the utter devastation she could leave in the wake of any culinary pursuit included - those private facets reserved for intimacy, those parts of her that remained undisclosed and sequestered away deep within, a semblance of humanity imbued with such RETICENCE that there were few to none beyond their little assembly who'd ever caught even a fleeting glimpse.

Leaving her shoes at the door, Kafka closed the distance between them, bringing a gloved hand up to tenderly sweep a stray length of hair from plastering across the bridge of his nose; she fell gently against his chest and breathed deep, the warmth of him so full and palpable even through the meagre barrier of the apron.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝   more   of   the   same.   ❞   he   admits   -   perpetual   aches,   agony   was   his   norm.   were   it   especially   bad   though,   she   would   have   likely   come   back   to   him   smoking   his   pipe   -   not   moving   about.   candle-red   gaze   roves   over   her   form   -   drinking   in   blood   and   yet   remaining   elegance.   borisin-enhanced   nose   denotes   nothing   unusual,   only   the   comfort   of   her   perfume   and   shampoo,   and   underlying   natural   scent.   he   continues   his   scan,   assuring   nothing   is   amiss   -   until   she   moves   towards   him   and   drops   against   his   body   with   soft,   supple   lines.   the   tender   sweep   of   his   dark   hair,   the   meeting   of   their   gazes...   it's   all   familiar   territory   for   blade,   who   sinks   into   comfort   almost   immediately.