AISHA
my lovely prey, i'm a cliche
Aisha was hungry, and as usual, terribly bad at cooking. Now she normally would've been happy to just eat something like bread and butter, or a fruit or other easily prepared food. But right now she was really craving soup, stew, a warm broth at least. Somebody she knew made great stew, somebody who just happened to live with her. If only she could rope him into dinner duties.
And thus it was that the girl was searching the manor for Oliver, hoping to catch him at a good time for her request. She passed through the kitchen into the main room, but stopped at the threshold. Well, she'd found him, but he seemed to be locked in an intense moment with a box and cup of water. Brows raised, she watched for a moment, very amused by his concentration, and wondering what the hell he was doing.
Her confusion was perhaps a compliment to his skills at conjuration and illusion, she spoke up with a smirk toying at her lips, "Is this a bad time, I don't mean to interrupt this riveting bond between you and that cup."
And thus it was that the girl was searching the manor for Oliver, hoping to catch him at a good time for her request. She passed through the kitchen into the main room, but stopped at the threshold. Well, she'd found him, but he seemed to be locked in an intense moment with a box and cup of water. Brows raised, she watched for a moment, very amused by his concentration, and wondering what the hell he was doing.
Her confusion was perhaps a compliment to his skills at conjuration and illusion, she spoke up with a smirk toying at her lips, "Is this a bad time, I don't mean to interrupt this riveting bond between you and that cup."
for us, the bourgeoisie, so care free
