this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 11, 2017 3:54:14 GMT
two birds
falling in love at a coffee store
there is a certain expectation inherent with the presence of high skies, heavens gauzy with unstained light, gold gilding the ground in streaks of luminous warmth. a day scenic as if painted by the fine-tipped brushes of master artists, a day quietly serene as experienced only within stories, a day that young lovers might walk hand in hand down unevenly paved cobblestone streets and look upon each other with soft, happy eyes. such days are not quite as common as they seem, unremarkably extraordinary as only contradictions can be.
kasimir, secret admirer of scenery as he may be, has not a thought to spare for the day he would otherwise usually enjoy.
he stands outside the front of xuan jin's shop, three boxes full of freshly baked pastries stacked in his arms and a somewhat lost look on his face, darting quicksilver glances all around him in vain hope that he might catch sight of a salvation to his plight - what is he meant to do with so many baked goods? it is not that he had meant to make so many, but with stress and exhaustion hammering iron nails into the marrow of his bones and self-loathing burning bitter in his blood, he had had to turn his attention to contemplations not of his failures or the blood soaking his hands; he had had to turn his hands to something productive, to something non-destructive lest he turn that same destructive force back onto himself.
not that he would not deserve it.
but saskia had not liked him returning with agonised rage in his eyes or crescents dug deep into the skin of his palms, and he would do anything to make her happy - which is how he had ended up taking up baking. stress baking. who would have thought.
it is a good solution, normally - not only does he refrain from the self-destructive tendencies that saskia disapproves of, he can also treat her to the pastries he makes - only sometimes, occasionally, the itch in his blood is too much and the guilt gnaws at his insides until he wants to tear himself open to dig it out. on such occasions, he shuts himself into a kitchen and stays there all night long. and on such occasions, kasimir enters the morn with an empty pantry and far too many cakes.
hence, his current situation.
another desperate, searching glance around and- there, pink haired and pretty like azaleas in the sun. surely she would not mind...?
kasimir walks over quickly, too desperate to even care that it is a stranger he is approaching. "free samples," he mumbles as he dumps all three boxes in her arms, then, deed done, turns to - not flee - walk away.
Post by saoirse ó floinn on Aug 11, 2017 12:25:39 GMT
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[attr="class","jartoxpost"] "two loaves of bread, my dear. that'd be 20 gold."
[break][break]the elderly lady regarded Saoirse with a kind smile, recognising the pink-haired woman as one of her weekly customers. smiling mildly in return, said young woman pulled a substantially heavy purse out of the straw basket she hung on her arm. gathering the appropriate amount of coins in her hand, she handed it carefully to the baker, making sure to deposit it all neatly into the other woman's hand. after confirming her purchase, she swiftly gripped the package of bread and placed it into her basket. waving, she murmured a thank you and a goodbye before moving on to the next stall.
[break][break]as she moved from stall to stall, she recited in her mind the list of things she needed to bring home. bread. check. butter. check. milk. check. pasta. check. biscuits. not yet. hmm. the baker didn't seem to be in stock of the biscuits she usually bought; perhaps they were already sold out. frowning slightly to herself, she felt her heart sink a little in disappointment. Marchosias would surely sulk in discontent when she told him that they wouldn't be able to enjoy their tea breaks together with shortbread. sighing softly, she double checked the items in her basket, making sure she hadn't forgotten to buy anything.
[break][break]ready to go home, she turned on her heel to head back to the residential streets, away from the market square. she barely made two steps when a taller red-haired male approached her and subsequently dumped three boxes of something onto her. stumbling at the sudden action, she struggled briefly to balance her abrupt load. a noise hardly left her as she tried to say something in response, but he was gone as swiftly as he'd come. spinning around, hands still full of boxes, she stared after him, mouth falling open in stupor. wait...i know him. a whoosh of energy swirled inside her body and she feels her familiar materialise with an enraged hiss. "wretch! i'll bite his face off next time i see him. put those boxes down, you don't know what's in them!"
[break][break]too confused to disobey, she quickly squatted down to put the boxes on the cobblestone path, while Marchosias kept his eyes on the disappearing back of the male. opening one of the lids, she was astonished to see a collection of beautiful pastries. "ahh~!" failing to hold back a wide beam and a squeal, she was pleased to see the other two boxes filled with other assortments. they were gorgeous and looked positively delicious. "Marcho, I don't think he intended any harm for these. look at them!" as he sniffed suspiciously at them, he harrumphed but said no more, indicating his approval. closing the lids, she looked up into the crowd, just barely making out his hair and ever-retreating back. she couldn't lose him.
[break][break]quickly gathering her things together, she cradled the lid of the uppermost box under her chin and set a jogging pace through the crowd, trying to be as careful as she can so to avoid jostling her goodies. as she ran, her mind cycled through the most recent events, images of the gala circling around before finally she remembered the unsettled young man who stood beside Xuan Jin. it's him! she'd missed the opportunity to speak to him then, but fate had allowed to her experience another encounter. she wouldn't let this go again.
[break][break]he hadn't managed to get as far as he'd probably hoped in his spontaneous dash and she felt her breath catch as she neared him. "hey, wait, excuse me!" stopping in front of him, she panted, unused to the sudden expense of energy and exercise. "I-I," a huff. "I-thank you," a puff. "thank you for these." she held up the boxes still cradling them beneath her chin. her head suddenly felt heavy from the lack of oxygen and she let it rest on the lid, still catching her breath. "ahh, I-I don't run very often, sorry."
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 29, 2017 10:46:27 GMT
two birds
falling in love at a coffee store
he walks away from the scene with as much speed as he can muster without seeming overtly suspicious, feet devouring the pavement beneath with ravenous bites - briefly, he thinks he might hear the faint growls of an enraged familiar but he certainly does not linger nor look back to confirm. the pink-haired girl vanishes into the distance behind a throng of people, and he slows down with a slightly relieved sigh. now that he is out of eyesight, and out of potential hearing range, he does not expect for there to be any further interaction.
he certainly does not expect for her to chase him down, hair like cotton candy haloed around her face as she skids to a halt in front of him. he looks at her, a little bemused, a little bewildered, a little uncertain - briefly, he considers turning around and leaving as fast as he can regardless of the rudeness ( confrontation, no matter how slight, is not something he is skilled nor experienced in dealing with ), but dismisses the idea as it forms. it is not as if the girl ( young woman, really ) is accusing him of any heinous deed, or such.
but at least he would know how to respond, as opposed to gratitude. besides his beloved sister, who would thank kasimir - it is not as if he is a regular destroyer of lives, after all.
"you are... welcome?" he says tentatively, something like concern reflected in the green of his eyes as he watches the girl struggle for breath. a hesitant half-step forwards, an uncertain hand reached out to steady her; "just, um, breathe."
Post by saoirse ó floinn on Sept 1, 2017 2:38:43 GMT
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[attr="class","jartoxpost"] She must look so silly... It's a gradual thought that seeps into her as she catches her breath. Her pants come to a halt and a rose flush spreads up to her ears and cheeks. God, I look like an idiot. The situation becomes impetuously surreal and she becomes silent, slowly sucking her lips inward. She can feel her face becoming warmer by the second, blood rushing at a violent rapidity towards her brain. She holds a cold, sweaty hand to her cheek and there's an intense urge to flee. The weight of the cakes disappear as she becomes more preoccupied in looking away from his face; a poor attempt to regain what little dignity she had left after her impulsive sprint.
[break][break]He speaks and all opportunities of flight vanish, her focus upon the brief utterance increasing tenfold. His voice is uncertain, reflective of her own feelings towards her spontaneity and she nods. Marchosias' ire and his silent paralipsis of her asininity could be felt through their bond and she has half the mind to force him to dematerialise to save face. She can feel the claws of the sable through the thin cotton of her blouse and prays inwardly that her familiar has self-control. Outwardly, she blinks owlishly, lashes fluttering before tilting her lips into a smile, hiding the fact that she's sure she might pass out from the lightheartedness caused, simultaneously, by the abrupt lack and overabundance of oxygen in her head.
[break][break]Clicking her teeth together, she holds up the boxes of cakes, awkwardly stammering out, "I-Do you-Would you want to share these with me? There's three boxes worth of these and-and I don't have anyone else. Marchosias probably can't eat these-" The sable shifts, his fur raising, challenging her statement. "Yes I can. Watch me."
[break][break]Oh...
[break][break]She swats at him and smiles again at her baker, this time far more forced. Wow, she did not think any of this through. At all. [break][break]
ooc: she's such a mess right now and I wrote this post in parts SO u can see the deterioration of my ideas because i forgot about them[break]
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Sept 2, 2017 7:41:55 GMT
two birds
falling in love at a coffee store
pink blooms across her cheeks like rosepinks and hydrangeas in the cradle of spring; she looks away, and his concern magnifies. she looks somewhat faint, he thinks, worry beginning to sketch itself in creases between his brows; he grips her shoulder a little more tightly to provide a modicum of support. why she is suddenly flushing, he does not know ( embarrassment, perhaps? but why? shame? he is not that unapproachable, is he? ).
his eyes catch on the small creature clinging onto the girl's blouse - her familiar, no doubt. soft fur, liquid dark eyes, a bushy tail - the familiar is not an animal kasimir can put name to species ( a mink? he wonders, but it does not seem to be right. a marten perhaps? should he ask? ) but is undoubtedly adorable. he is also glaring at him and radiating an almost tangible aura of hostility - why, kasimir is not certain of either.
should he leave? he should have escaped faster.
but then the girl speaks again, holding up the boxes of pastries he had so dumped in her arms. her words come out in fragments and stutters of syllables ( marchosias? he assumes that is her familiar's name, but wow that is a complicated twist of tongue ), and in a completely unforeseen move, she invites? kasimir? to share?
he blinks at her with wide eyes, startled at this turn of events. "um-" and he stumbles over his own words, his mind suddenly blank. ( what should he do? how can he decline politely? her familiar, after all, seems like kasimir's company is the last thing he would like ) "you do not have to," he responds finally, then mentally kicks himself at the awkwardness of his answer.
Post by saoirse ó floinn on Sept 7, 2017 9:45:13 GMT
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[attr="class","jartoxpost"] Maybe she had been too hasty, too spontaneous in her invitation. The male looked...uncomfortable to say the least, and she thinks that this was all a bad idea. She thinks to herself. 'Just because you might not be as weary when someone offers you cakes, it doesn't mean that he will react the same way.' Shame flooded her cheeks, she lowers her gaze and an embarrassed smile graces her lips. She should have known it was stupid to ask, since he'd obviously wanted to get rid of them in the first place. Taking a step back, she readjusts her grip on the boxes, wondering what she should do now.
[break][break]"Um, you do not have to."
[break][break]He's right. She didn't have to go out of her way and do something so badly thought out. Ugh, she's such an idiot! She mentally slaps herself and groans internally. She is never this rash, but perhaps the absurdity of the situation itself has her mind completely muddled and is causing her to make a fool of herself. Oh, bugger! Sensing her distress, Marchosias travels down her arm and sits on the lid of the uppermost box, standing on his hind legs so that he had attempt to stare face to face at the baker.
[break][break]"Well obviously she wants to, so oblige her. She didn't chase you down just to be rejected. I won't-"
[break][break]At this point, Saoirse cuts right through his next sentence, her voice low and breathless, "And that is enough. You are excused, Marchosias. Now." He huffs in response and says, before dematerialising. "I was only trying to get him to do the right thing."[
[break][break]She didn't think that this would get any worse, but apparently she and her familiar had different outlooks on how to go about things. Now seemed like a wonderful time for the ground to swallow her up. She raises the dynamics of her voice, speaking louder, although there is a slight waver in the inflection of her tone. "I'm so sorry, I-I-you really shouldn't pay him any mind. I was too brash, I didn't think this through at all. I've probably made you very uncomfortable and you oughtn't think you have to spend any time with me at all." [break][break]
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Sept 15, 2017 14:42:48 GMT
two birds
falling in love at a coffee store
she looks down at his response, something akin to embarrassment or chagrin flashing across her expression; guilt sinks into his chest, dark and heavy as it cloys his veins like ichor. to be the cause of this girl's discomfort, it is... not a pleasant feeling. ( but, but - who would want kasimir's company when surely there would be many others whom could be asked for, others whom do not have their hands stained sanguine and death tenebrous in every breath, others who would far more be worthy of being in the presence of this dawn-kissed girl )
she steps back, and regret curls like ribbons of ice around his ribs even as the bigger part, the better part of him knows it is for the best.
but then- a blur of ochre and grey, soft fur completely at odds with hard black eyes - the girl's familiar makes himself known with extreme prejudice, glaring at him at eye level. "well obviously she wants to, so oblige her," he snaps, dark irritation and fierce protectiveness threading through his harsh words. kasimir stares, momentarily taken aback by the hostility before the words register. marchosias ( he assumes the marten(?) is the bearer of the name ) is not incorrect though; he quashes the urge to look down in abashment.
the girl cuts her familiar off before he can further scold kasimir - not that kasimir does not deserve it. then she apologies, the waver in her voice reigniting his guilt anew. "please, do not apologise, i apologise for having misread your intentions." he bows his head slightly. "i- i would be honoured to join you."
Post by saoirse ó floinn on Sept 25, 2017 3:11:33 GMT
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[attr="class","jartoxpost"] "i- i would be honoured to join you."
[break][break]The sheer embarrassment and shame that circulates through her veins is almost crippling and she wishes that the ground would swallow her whole. Wanting to slap a hand against her face, she closes her eyes and calms her breathing, hoping that the intake of oxygen would help the swirling in her head. The damage had been done, Marchosias had succeeded in forcing the boy into accompanying her for an afternoon of cake eating. Her mouth is pulled downwards in a slight frown, her eyebrows creasing inwards at her own discomfort. Biting her bottom lip, she inhales, resigning herself to their situation before attempting to be more cheerful about it. She reassures him, "I'm sure I won't bore you too much!"
[break][break]She glances around, wondering if any of the nearby cafes are suitable for the next two hours of engorging. If there wasn't, the Sun Cafe was always an option. Perhaps she might even find that runescripter girl and offer a cake or two.
[break][break]It's after a minute or two when she sulkily concludes that despite coming to the marketplace every month, she's not as familiar with it as she'd think. Suddenly there are corner shops that she's never seen before, smaller lanes between blocks that she doesn't recall ever existing. This certainly was a revelation. Staring widely at who was now her definite companion, she smiles sheepishly before asking meekly, "Do you know anywhere we can go to eat these?"
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Sept 25, 2017 13:16:36 GMT
two birds
falling in love at a coffee store
she closes her eyes, breathes, shame like moth-thin wings fluttering across her face, tenebrous like the moon against the sun; her frown is small, slight - a whisper of winter on an autumn breeze, a furrowed her brow; resignation, and he knows that feeling anywhere, knows it as the beat of his heart drumming against paper-thin ribs ( th-tck th-tck th-tck ), knows it as blood, copper and acrid salt in his mouth, knows it as a catechism, a commandment, an absolution around his wrists in an immaterial chain; resignation, he thinks, and hates that he, kasimir, is the cause of it.
he should leave. should apologise, withdraw, vanish a ghost into the morning mist. ( he does not even like sweets besides - there is a reason he does not dispose of the excess by himself ) but the words stick in this throat, breath catches in his lungs; sunlight embroiders the edge of her cotton candy hair gold and she smiles at him and he
stops-
( but he does not, because the world does not work that way, love does not work that way; realisation is caught in the delicate cogs of a time far flung into the future; now, now, he looks at her and thinks in the way of wordless, subconscious impressions: sparrows / rosepinks / breathless )
-his eyes flicker away then back, momentarily lost in the winding streets of their city. "there... is a park nearby?" he offers, hesitant. "not amagika - smaller, but not far."
and he wonders, why is he offering? what is he doing? he likes the park for its secluded nature, its secretive existence in shrouded ivy and half-forgotten gardens now reclaimed by nature; he likes the peace it offers, the respite from human contact and bitter obligation; it is as much a sanctuary as he can find in the sprawl of sundial. so, why, to a stranger, does he offer?
Post by saoirse ó floinn on Oct 11, 2017 10:14:29 GMT
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[attr="class","jartoxpost"] Her body seems to inflate as her baker affirms, albeit hesitantly, of the existence of a park nearby. Surely there would be benches for them to sit down at and eat to their hearts' content. It's a pretty picture and she beams, pleased at the idea. Her familiar doesn't seem too keen and perhaps out of spite, he gives her cheek a gentle slap with his tail and disappears. A sigh shudders through her and she makes a note in her head to make it up to him. 'Goodness, he's so temperamental.'
[break][break]Her fingers shift underneath the weight of the boxes, suddenly realising how sweaty they were. Oh, surely she hadn't melted any of the cakes inside with any of the emanating heat. She swiftly wipes her hands on her skirt, movements quick and brief, before nudging herself towards the baker. "Um, would you like to take one of these? I'm scared I'm going to drop them." It's not really a truth; she's quite sturdy with weightlifting, if any of the heavy encyclopaedias on the upper shelf of her bookcase are testament to that, but it would give him something to do, something to ease the awkwardness between them.
[break][break]Once he takes a box or two, she rolls her shoulders, tilting her head to readjust her spine. Humming softly, she exhales, feeling liberated and freer. Content spreads to the corners of her lips and she says lightly, her tone airy but bright, "I'm Saoirse, by the way. Care to lead the way, Master Baker?" [break][break]
ooc: im sorry there's hardly anything to go off on, but FEEL FREE TO DRAG HER AROUND[break]
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 17, 2017 10:12:58 GMT
two birds
falling in love at a coffee store
she smiles at him, bright and dazzling like sunshine breaking through the smothering grey of thunderclouds, and he does not smile back but the tense line of his shoulders relax fractionally and the nervousness fissioning through his veins in smooths out into a slightly less agitated state. ( a flicker of grey-brown, the pink-haired woman's familiar dematerialising with a dismissive swish of tail - a reminder, he thinks, of disapproval )
the girl shifts, wipes her hands on her skirt - attention drawn to the boxes he had so unceremoniously dumped into her arms, kasimir flushes lightly at her words. "o-oh, of course. my apologies," he mumbles quietly as he hastily scoops up the top two boxes, leaving just one to her. fingers tightening around the cardboard as he casts around for something to say, a sense of relief flushes through him as the girl- saoirse- offers him a beginning, an out. "kasimir," he says, ducking his head in both acknowledgement and embarrassment, green eyes flickering up, then away as he turns to lead the way.
kasimir is not a person of many words, but he knows well that others may not be so. three steps on the path, a fleeting, uncertain glance back to check if the girl is following; nothing but silence and fragments of syllables on his tongue. he hopes she will not hold his lack of eloquence against him.
Post by saoirse ó floinn on Nov 21, 2017 11:56:22 GMT
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[attr="class","jartoxpost"] Gratitude radiates from rhodochrosite and from the perpetual rosiness of cheeks when weight is lifted from her hands. Appreciation flourishes within her chest, an awakening blossom of Spring at the baker's displayed chivalry. Contrary to his withdrawn demeanour, it paints a different shade upon him; a shimmer of saffron cast against fluctuating gloom that seems to waver before her. She is given a name to his face, a shy utterance of syllables in response. Kasimir. She decides she likes it.
[break][break]She follows after him, two steps to his one, doing her best not to twist her ankle on cobble. Heels click on stone, percussive and allegretto in tempo and with practised ease, she does not falter. ( To tell the truth, she enjoys the sound of her heels to great satisfaction. ) Kasimir turns around briefly to look back at her, perhaps sensing the disparity between them and she merely returns his gaze with an owlish blink. She is fine.
[break][break]They approach the park with little fanfare, the entrance marked by an iron gate that had the words, 'Itéa Terrace'. Beyond and within, she sees the sparkle of a lake and a plethora of green; it is a lovely sight. Curiosity comes to the fore and she wonders how she'd never noticed such a quaint little park in the area. ( Marchosias supplies helpfully that it was because she hardly leaves the house to go wandering. ) No matter, the location was now retained in her memory.
[break][break]Walking in, their general direction is towards the lake, cobble pathways having been exchanged with gravel pavement. Pushing ahead a little so to walk side by side with Kasimir, she marvels at the prettiness of the terrace. "It's a charming little park. I'm sure I'll come here often." The waters of the lake grow brighter as they near it and as they draw closer, she sees a perfect little bench, shaded beneath a beautiful willow tree.
[break][break]Arm stretching out, she points at it and suggests, "How about we settle there?" [break][break]
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 25, 2017 2:18:05 GMT
two birds
falling in love at a coffee store
the quiet 'click-clack' of heels on cobblestone trails behind him in a percussive cadence, two beats to every one of his steps; he fights the urge to bite his lip and instead slows his steps imperceptibly, fingers tightening around the boxes he holds. kirjava huffs in the back of his mind, all but radiating fond exasperation, and somehow, without even a material body, he can feel her roll her eyes and prod him onwards. sometimes, he thinks, his familiar is a little too much like himself even when she is not.
wrought iron gates come into view, a burnished silver-grey that is warm beneath his skin as he pushes it open; he takes a silent, deep breath as his small haven is revealed - painted in rich verdure foliage and delicate blossom beautiful in their transiency, a small lake glittering with sunlight and willow trees with slender leaves - his shoulders relax inadvertently, and when he turns to face saoirse again, there is a rare quiet contentment in his eyes.
"this is not a place known to many," he supplies as closes the gate behind them. stranger as she is, odd as the circumstances are, kasimir cannot find it in himself to be too tense, not here, not with the quiet-coloured tranquility shading the air. they make their way down the path, side by side, and the lack of words between them does not turn awkward.
saoirse breaks the silence first. "how about we settle there?" she asks, pointing at a bench situated beneath a willow tree. kasimir inclines his head in agreement and guides his feet in that direction, seating himself after placing the boxes down carefully, leaving half of the bench for saoirse. kirjava shifts in quiet longing but does not deign to materialise just yet - the girl is still too much of an unknown, too much of a mystery. and, the wordlessness returns, bringing with it un uncertainty that has kasimir hesitantly eyeing saoirse - what does she desire from him? what comes next? he finds himself wanting to wring his hands in nervousness; he does not, and instead folds his hands neatly in his lap.
Post by saoirse ó floinn on Nov 26, 2017 13:05:12 GMT
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[attr="class","jartoxpost"] They are shielded from the sun by the hanging branches of the willow tree, light filtering in in shifting glitters upon the earth. A light breeze brushes her cheek, lifting thin strands of her hair and she holds a hand up to deflect it. The view is lovely, the beauty of nature unmarred by civilisation; even the simple pathways and benches scattered beyond cannot deter the charm that the park exudes. So hidden was it from the rest of Sundial, she thinks it is fitting to deem Itéa Terrace a concealed treasure and while he may attempt to hide it, the slight changes in expression tell her it is a place dear to Kasimir.
[break][break]Sitting down in a proper manner, poise and elegance not lost on her, she straightens her neck naturally and crosses her ankles. Resting the box of cakes on her thighs, she opens the lid much like she is opening an expensive chest; gingerly and delicately. The pastries look just as delicious as the ones in the first box and she can feel her mouth water. While not an overall fan of sweets, she didn't think she could hold back from these. A satisfied hum and a pleased smile, hands carefully lift what she believes is a strawberry shortcake. It's adorably assembled and sits easily between her fingers.
[break][break]Rather than taking a bite herself, she holds out to Kasimir, offering him the first bite. "Here, have this." Selecting from the box, she takes a chocolate éclair and nibbles on it, enjoying the sweet burst of cream and chocolate against the fluff of the choux pastry. It's difficult not to just inhale the rest because of the taste and she takes her time to have the next bite. A simultaneous sense of excitement and dread courses through her as she realises that there are so many more for her to eat. No matter, she's certain that everything within the three boxes would be delicious. Another hum of delight escapes her as she eats her éclair. She turns to look at Kasimir if he enjoys his own creation as much as she does. Feeling like she should say something, she says after swallowing, her voice bright and elated, "These are delightful! How ever did you manage all of these?"
ooc: o3o give poor kasi something to talk about[break]
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 26, 2017 14:24:25 GMT
two birds
falling in love at a coffee store
saoirse, he thinks, watching quietly as she seats herself, reminds him of a swan. something of her poise, something of the arc of her neck, something of the way the sun spins delicate strands of rose gold to wreath itself in a nebulae around her face. graceful, even as she occupies herself with opening the boxes - she smiles, pleased, and warmth that has nothing to do with the sun infuses his own ribcage. something that he has created has brought satisfaction to someone - not destructive, not red-stained, not heavy with guilt and self-loathing.
but then saoirse holds up a shortcake up to him ( strawberry, small - he remembers making them sometime between 3am and dawn, trying very hard not to think of what the red of the fruit reminded him of ) and he has no choice but to take it, holding it gingerly between his fingers. see, there is a reason why kasimir does not simply eat all of his creations himself, and it has very little to do with that fact that so much sugar is decidedly not healthy. he has never particularly enjoyed sweet foods, not since he was three years old and wondering at the brightly-coloured candy he had always seen rich children eat; but, there had been a period of time when guerra, having discovered his coping mechanism, had forced him to eat his creations every meal for over a week.
he has never been able to bring himself to stomach sweets since.
but, but- kasimir has even less desire to explain himself to this stranger he has, for whatever reason, invited into his safe space. carving neutrality onto his face as a sculptor would work stone, he takes a bite, chews, swallows, and tries not to throw up. fortunately, very fortunately, saoirse chooses this time to address him with a question; he forgoes any attempt at finishing his cake for answering.
"many nights of practice," he tells her, thinking back on his sleepless nights. "i have been baking since i was thirteen."
