KIADA
the harpy
Is that…?
As she begins to make her way from the bedroom, wrapped up in a blanket, the smell of breakfast drifts toward her. And she’s surprised, immensely so, because she’s so used to living alone that should there be any form of breakfast made, it’s her making it. And she wonders if perhaps Deimos has appeared to surprise her in some way, with the help of Amalia of course, and she wonders if perhaps she should have put more clothes on before farting out of the bedroom in her confusion.
But the room takes her by surprise, the grey stone with bronze inlay, like flame, like veins as she stares and continues to walk aimlessly until she reaches the kitchen, gawking at the beauty of it all and the surprise.
It isn’t until she sees him as she rounds the corner of it, iceberg eyes landing on a tall frame, mixing and melding batter, frying eggs in a pan. Is this a dream? She doesn’t entirely know. But her fingers tighten on the blanket as she approaches, dark hair a tussled mess along her head, eyes flitting about the familiar curves of his spine, of the beautiful dark skin that covers every inch, of the freckle like constellations on his face.
She figures she’ll go along with it, dream or not. Because it feels real enough, and she’s not ready to let go just yet.
There’s some frustration she can sense in him, and it’s enough to get her to smile faintly as she leans against the entryway to the kitchen, the smell of coffee bright and stark against the rest. “Am I dreaming? Or are you cooking?” A simple question, but she drifts closer toward the table in the middle, eyes seeking out his blue and black gaze.
As she begins to make her way from the bedroom, wrapped up in a blanket, the smell of breakfast drifts toward her. And she’s surprised, immensely so, because she’s so used to living alone that should there be any form of breakfast made, it’s her making it. And she wonders if perhaps Deimos has appeared to surprise her in some way, with the help of Amalia of course, and she wonders if perhaps she should have put more clothes on before farting out of the bedroom in her confusion.
But the room takes her by surprise, the grey stone with bronze inlay, like flame, like veins as she stares and continues to walk aimlessly until she reaches the kitchen, gawking at the beauty of it all and the surprise.
It isn’t until she sees him as she rounds the corner of it, iceberg eyes landing on a tall frame, mixing and melding batter, frying eggs in a pan. Is this a dream? She doesn’t entirely know. But her fingers tighten on the blanket as she approaches, dark hair a tussled mess along her head, eyes flitting about the familiar curves of his spine, of the beautiful dark skin that covers every inch, of the freckle like constellations on his face.
She figures she’ll go along with it, dream or not. Because it feels real enough, and she’s not ready to let go just yet.
There’s some frustration she can sense in him, and it’s enough to get her to smile faintly as she leans against the entryway to the kitchen, the smell of coffee bright and stark against the rest. “Am I dreaming? Or are you cooking?” A simple question, but she drifts closer toward the table in the middle, eyes seeking out his blue and black gaze.
what a shame we gotta pay for reality
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
