#chironitas

[kyukicho]

@chironitas​ cont.

                "Etreinte de fille!" He nods, thumbing to the next page. “I found it in the library. It’s very informative.” Noe looked positively enraptured by the book’s contents. Not even noticing Vanitas getting up close and nosily trying to see.

[gdmonster]

@chironitas​ | “sometimes i try to make it look like i’m comfortable in the skin i’m in ” [for noé!] MISC ANGST SENTENCES ( LYRICS ).

---

And sometimes the sheer universe-sized distance in similarities between the life Noé has led and the one of Vanitas’ he’s only caught an outsiders glimpses of, slams into Noé’s chest heavily enough to leave him staggering mentally.

And other times, it merely washes over him, as if injected directly into his heart, intent on freezing him over on the inside. Cool and uncomfortable, like a dead hand whose grip is a little too tight and at the same time a little too loose.

Much like his own grip on Vanitas, he sometimes muses.

An outsider, on the other hand, one who might have watched moments like these unfold on other occasions, might wonder why they always happen a-top roofs.

The air seems warm and clear enough, Paris sparkles beneath them, indecisive between the flowers it claims as part of its moniker and the much stronger glistening of the sun caressing la Seine’s surface as if trying to brush over and mend open wounds.

And Vanitas is making a new face.

Noé sits and watches, as he always does, eyes kept wide enough as if fearing he might slip out of his gaze, lips kept closed as if waiting his turn or too preoccupied to utter anything.

And Vanitas looks, for the first time perhaps, or perhaps the nth time and Noé had only known been allowed to see it, as if he was much smaller than the strutting vampire doctor he’d first encountered on La Baleine.

Vanitas is fast and stronger than he’d claim most other humans to be. He spits and grins as if he’s putting on a show for no one but the devil himself, as if every time he gains a split lip or every time he pushes through a fight to get to a vampire to save, he’s winning some sort of race against... against whom?

Against Luna?

Their voice chills in the back of his mind, Mikhail’s memories faint but with a mark left behind.

Against vampires?

Against Dr Moreau?

Against himself?

The breeze musses his hair. Noé’s always wondered why he chooses to keep it this long. Lack of interest? Preference?

His hourglass earring glistens briefly and Noé thinks of Luna again.

Thinks of the Mikhail’s memory of a crying, feverish Vanitas, no older than Noé had been when he’d collapsed in a similar fashion after... after.

Crying, feverish Vanitas and the tales of his father’s turned back and his mother’s death, life as it had started and life as it had ended to turn into years of continuous torture - tries not to think of Mikhail’s memories in this context, tries not to hurl.

Does Vanitas even feel his skin to be his own still? Altered eyes and a vampire’s blood within him, cut up and rearranged for the mission of a madman.

I’m glad you are the person you are now.

He feels like vomiting for that line, considering all he had to go through to become who he is.

Still... He wouldn’t take it back.

“Why?” A frown, somewhere between confusion and the frustration of someone who just wants to understand better and understand easier.

He leans forward, doesn’t notice his shifting closer until his shoulder is pressed against Vanitas’, only tries to sneak into the human’s peripheral.

“I know you think lying and dishonesty in general is a valid strategy,” a jab he barely even registers as such, his already lacking filter completely thrown off this roof-top. “But you don’t have to pretend. If you’re honest, we can stand by you better. We can help you... until you’re actually comfortable in your own skin.”

[cryoexorcist]

@chironitas​

“Please don’t touch anything, these aren’t toys.”

[castelleve]

@chironitas​ asked: "hey! how's the weather up there?" look at him making tall people jokes, the little shit.

He raised in eyebrow at Vanitas - was he serious? That was the oldest joke in the book. Either way, he knew of only one way he could really respond to this. 

He spat - not at Vanitas, but at the sidewalk near his shoes. “Looks like rain.”

[xheartpages]

 @chironitas​ asked: ❝  you can’t get all worked up every time something happens to me.  that’s just life.  you’re not always gonna be able to protect me from it.  ❞  [noe 8( vani pls...]

“That’s....!”

Noé’s words get caught in his throat; purple eyes still stuck on his person as a cool sensation wafted through him, gaze flickering from one blue eye to the other as though hoping that the words would change. He knew that, of course he knew that, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t try to shield Vanitas from everything! Wasn’t it what he deserved? Someone to protect him no matter what?

“I...” The vampire’s lips parted once more, before they closed; letting his gaze fall onto the space between them, fingers that was once helping patch him up going slack for a few long beats. The scent of his blood, always pugnet and delicious, wafted through his nose, but even that wasn’t as distracting as Vanitas’ words paired with his own thoughts. His own feelings.

‘That’s just life.’

‘You’re not always gonna be able to protect me from it.’

‘You see, Noé? There’s nothing you can do---’

“... I’m sorry...” The fight left his tone; seemed to seep through his body in one fell swoop; shoulders even lowering just a tad. The pain was too great to bear, even if it was just for this instance; but he couldn’t let Vanitas see that. See how much this was eating at him, how much his new promise was grating at him; killing him from the inside out. He swallows thickly, fingers raising to resume his motions, tightening the white bandage carefully over his wound.

Nothing else escaped from him all the while; the silence heavy and oppressive between them.

[elysianbook]

❀ » @chironitas​​​ inquired: leaves behind a small plate of tarte tatin where she's sure to find it. maybe she doesn't like sweets at all, but the particular nature of the treat isn't quite as important as the sentiment behind it: i hope you are well, and i hope you'll enjoy this!

(he's made it himself.)

during the day, this specific library is where el feels most at ease. when her inspiration runs short, she can always stop by to pass time, or learn, hoping to improve her language. in fact, her grasp on french has gotten a bit better thanks to that persistence. her reading spot is at the back, almost fully concealed from view - and to her surprise, something is waiting for her: it’s a dessert. 

there’s a single person who could have left this gift, and it both brings her joy and saddens her. it’s a heavy, unreasonable feeling. 

on one hand, she appreciates it sincerely, handmade presents have a special place in her heart. on the other, she can’t enjoy such a sweet gesture as it should be. 

they say blessings and curses are part of the same coin. at long last, the girl has met the outside world, its people, witnessing every wonder she so badly yearned for. yet, her experience is limited and she cannot offer even the slightest form of warmth in return. taking a bite, little phantom droplets fall and roll down her cheeks. 

nothing. no taste, no texture. there’s no sensation.

no, i must not wallow in self-pity —her voice mutters. 

it’s not for her sake. she merely doesn’t want to drench the beautiful sentiment embedded in his baking with pitiful, useless sorrow. it wouldn’t be fair. she has to be positive, remember, imagine and seize; the child envisages his goodwill in her cupped hands, carefully placing her palms against her chest. it’s soothing, tender, akin to healing light, or a fluffy blanket on those old wintry days. 

her magic creates a posy of forget-me-nots and jasmine, a sight he alone ought to notice, attaching it to a hidden piece of paper in-between the shelves. el is not the kind of artist to include herself in her drawings, this would be an exception. there, the tiny white figure is hugging the taller, dark-clad one. 

the two of them are smiling.

in the corner, a scribble says: ‘‘je vous remercie de vos bons voeux. j'ai également adoré vos cadeau de tout mon coeur’’.

[sangdelune-archive1]

✴ * :  ･ﾟ ★  【  @chironitas​​​​ 】

                          ⮩ cont. from  「 X 」

╰  ☾  ☆ * : ･   ⁞    —     ˗ˏˋ         THE CHILD STANDS RIGHT BESIDES HIS BROTHER; watching ever so carefully as his brother shuffled through the cabinets. ' This was an easy recipe '; that was what he was told and he hoped his brother was right. Brother always made things look so easy ! Brother was perfect with everything that he did ! Of course, the same couldn't be said for Noé but Noé at least TRIED his best. Misha could only hope to do even half as good of a job ad his brother. But with the matching aprons draped over their clothes, the two brothers at least LOOKED the part of master bakers.

              Measuring out the flour shouldn't have been THAT HARD. He's seen his brother do it a million times. All he had to do was pour the flour in at the correct mark ! EASY !

              ' Okay ! '

              The child leans over the counter; taking one of the smaller measuring cups to begin scooping the powder into the bigger measuring cup. Of course, the process doesn't go without some FLOUR getting on the table and his hands. But after a few scoops, the flour rests between the 500 ml mark and the 600 ml mark.

              ' Like this ? '

[immoralraigan]

🖌 + blue! [shyly but excitedly places this here jksdfds]

SEND ‘🖌’ FOR ME TO DRAW OUR MUSES TOGETHER.

café talk~

@chironitas

[aaternum-a]

he misses her terribly.

in between streams, vanitas has altogether too much time to sit and think (and pine), and he's been doing quite a bit of the latter lately. he's set to putting together a box of some things: things he wants to send to her, things he hopes she might enjoy.

what are its contents, one might ask? simple things, really: his old, bright-blue timex watch (the one he'd worn when he'd set a personal record and placed second overall in the race) --- it still works; a collection of some spiced hot cocoa, carefully mixed by hand and put in a cute ornamental tin can with a cat on the top, sealed with a blue ribbon; some shelf-stable shortbread he's made; and a little note:

thought i'd give you something to help you keep an eye on the time until we get to see each other again; i hope it'll bring you the same good luck it's brought me. in the meantime, enjoy the treats and drinks. sending all my warmth from a very foggy paris! toujours à toi, - vani.

Listless and wilted by the night’s end she all but dreamed her journey home, lazily dragging herself up the stairs of the five-story apartment. The only solace she finds in this tiresome cycle of work and sleep were the dwindling days between next time. A promise that eventually they’d see one another again. She sighs softly; dreamily, gaze languidly darting over the peeling embossed letter to her floor. It sucked to miss someone this much! Even if she were to eat the cost of the plane ticket, there were only so many hours she’d get to spend in his company before turning back into a pumpkin. It never felt enough. A blink, really. Someone really ought to find the secret to managing this distance. Until then, these late night video-chats would have to do. Some of the most enjoyable parts of her day. She fishes through her pocketbook for her keys, squinting through her chaotic mess as she walks to her door. Thankfully, she feels the anomaly before she trips over it. End of her shoe brushing against the cardboard box planted squarely in front of her door. She bends at her waist to retrieve it, circling through memory to recall any scheduled deliveries. But she’s drawing a blank, balancing the package between her arm and hip, free hand inserting the key into her doorway as she glances over the packing slip.. Scribbled at the top is her name, sure enough, but that’s not what grabs her attention. It’s the postal code for Paris. Surprise shifts in her expression as she scrambles into her doorway, kicking off her shoes and coat to make a beeline over to her coffee table. 

“   Ah, light, light ..   ” She rocks her elbow against the wall switch, fluorescent light illuminating the empty space as she sets the box over the wood countertop. At just a half-hour over two in the morning, opening a package should hardly rank high within her priorities, but she’s already tearing at the tape with the end of her keys, kneeling beside the table as she pries out its contents. The watch comes first, along with his note, that she reads out loud to herself,  “   Toujours à toi … always yours …   ” The edges of her lips curl into a tender smile, wrapping the loved watch around her wrist, its weight foreign, but comfortable. She extends her palm and twists her arm, gingerly noting the way it feels, near giddy as she looks over the other gifts. “   How cute!   ” Ryu is near giddy with the surprise, dramatically falling to her back and onto the floor, arm stretched out to eye her new accessory. “   Until next time, huh ..  ” Ah, she needed to take a shower and get ready for bed – morning was just a few short hours away and rest was so very important, and yet she’s dialing his number, rolling onto her stomach as she waits for him to pick up. It must’ve been early evening there. If she were lucky, she’d catch him before he started streaming. And to her luck, he lights up her screen, sleepy teal hues sparkling with delight. 

“   I know you gotta stream soon, I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t help myself! Look!   ” Drowsy, mirthful laughter following as she poses her wrist before the screen and gestures towards the torn cardboard sitting on the table. “   You’re so sneaky, y’know? I wanna yell but my neighbors will probably kill me.  ” She sighs, pretending to swoon off camera before reemerging with an affectionate beaming smile, “   I miss you. More than I think you’ll ever know. My heart is just … so full of you these days. I wish you were here. ” She pauses, “   But I’ll just have to add up all the time not spent with you so I can make up for it ten-fold .. until next time.   ” Another laugh as she waves at the screen,

“   Okay, okay! Sorry, I’ll let you get back to work!  ”

[abysswaltz]

chironitas asked: to be a traveler --- a drifter --- means knowing precious little about the lay of the land; it's less fortunate still to try and get one's bearings with an empty stomach and parched mouth.

(a tavern, at least, he knows when he sees: rowdy chatter, patrons spilling out into the streets, warm glow emanating from within. he's drawn to it like a moth to a lightbulb, mouth watering; if nothing else, a drink will take the edge off how his feet ache from walking for so many long hours....)

he's only just made it in time for a single round of drinks before closing time; vanitas breathes out a sigh of relief as soon as he's stumbled across the threshold of the cat's tail, taking a moment to bask in the heady aroma and welcome warmth. he's not typically one for imbibing, but his feet ache from hours on the road, and a simple glass of grape juice won't do; something stronger will be warranted, if he's to have any chance of taking the edge off it.

(his stomach growls a lamentation, and vanitas winces, but he'll sort that out later. for now, a drink is in order --- as is some conversation: if he can manage to befriend someone, perhaps he'll also secure a roof over his head for tonight; he's dog-tired, and anything --- even just the dusty wooden floor of a cellar somewhere --- would be better than sleeping rough again tonight.)

there's a single soul at the bar counter, and vanitas makes a beeline for him, boots scraping unevenly across the floor as he limps over.

"it doesn't do to drink alone, does it!" he says cheerily, flashing a friendly grin as he helps himself to a seat alongside kaeya. "i'm vanitas. and i do intend to borrow some of your time with idle conversation until last call --- if you'll allow me to, that is." [ hELLO ;A; !! ]

            Well, well.It was definitely curious to find someone  unfamiliar stumbling  in at this hour. Kaeya was used to being one of the las  few to  leave, knowing that he was often  at the mercy of the drink he  held  in  his  hand, a slack wrist with nimble  fingers curled around  a glass of Mondstadt’s infamous Dandelion Wine. He  had been chatting idly in-between rasped words, his smile drunken, when someone he didn’t  know  presented themselves with such confidence  it was if they had known each other  for years. This kind of friendliness was often given with some ulterior motive or acknowledgement  to  Kaeya’s status around Mondstadt, and so, it was almost immediately easy  to tell that this particular individual wasn’t from around here,  which of course piqued Kaeya’s curiosity. He gave a lax smile back, fingers gripping around his glass before taking another sip. He would otherwise be wary, and rightly so, but the lack of company was beginning to get to the cavalry captain. After all, frequenting these taverns was often quite rewarding indeed.

            “Not at all,”     Kaeya said.     “Well, aren’t you lucky that I have some time to spare?”     Certainly lucky indeed.     “I’ll allow it. That is, if you’ll indulge in me.”     Kaeya was teasing.     “It’s not often someone else comes in here at this time. Tell me, what brought you here?”

[kyukicho]

@chironitas​ cont.

A curiosity. Natural and ever present. It mixes and fades from pure to tinged with concern. Seeing that face. The pain, not from the scars, but from their memories. What memories must each one hold? What pain must each one bring to the surface that was once long buried. Noe can’t help but feel some sense of shame for bringing it up.

“No, you’re wrong!” He interrupts, sliding quickly over to sit beside Vanitas. A hand on either shoulder. “They aren’t hideous, or even ugly. They’re, they’re!” They’re what? They aren’t wonderful. That would be the wrong thing to say. They were... “you”

They were a part of him and Noe, above anyone, understood that memories came in many forms. They weren’t just mixed in with the blood but sometimes painted on the skin. They could be rough and edged. 

“like...” He struggled to explain himself like usual, trying hard to find the right words. Instead he scooted to sitting behind his companion. A single white glove removed as he ran fingertips along one larger scar. “This, it’s you, it’s your history, right?”

“It’s...” Fingers continued to trace the outer edges wondering just how much feeling was left in the piece of marred skin. He gave a sad smile, leaning down knowing his answer. “beautiful” Lips lightly touched where fingertips had been. Taking in the scent of him, that which lingered on the surface of his skin and that which flowed underneath. 

They may not tell him everything, or every story, but the scars were just as much of memories as Vanitas was willing to share with him right now, and that was beautiful.

[gdmonster]

ever since arriving in annecy, vanitas has been positively glowering.

dante had said it would be cold, yes --- but perhaps vanitas had refused to believe it was possible for a place to be this cold, or perhaps he really is just too attached to his peculiar fashion sense to trade his cloak for something more functional; either way, the young vampire doctor has been complaining vociferously ever since he and noé had stepped off the train. presently, they're heading down a quaint cobblestone walkway towards the hotel, vanitas theatrically picking his way through the snowdrifts and swearing aloud every time he gets some snow in his boots.

(he's quite a sight: he's sniffling constantly, his nose cherry-red; his eyes are watering relentlessly from the biting cold of the wind, tears freezing on his eyelashes, matting them together. and perhaps worst of all is that vanitas is all too aware of the absolute state he's in, and he's trying --- and failing --- to conceal his humiliation beneath his scarf. it's utterly --- perhaps endearingly --- ineffective.)

"putain de merde," he exclaims, snuffling. "that baldy! damn him for sending us out here! i'm going to catch my death of pneumonia!"

he gingerly takes another step forward, then very nearly loses his footing on a patch of ice, and the will to live visibly leaves him. he stops short, arms clenched across his chest, and scowls --- an almost childish fit of pique.

as if looking for commiseration: "aren't you cold too, noé? don't you find this place just as reprehensible...?!"

@chironitas | original ♥

---

Truth is, there’s hardly a place in this or any other world Noé could fully and confidently find reprehensible.

His eyes seem intent on not matching, but rather rivalling the glistening of the falling snowflakes as what little sunlight pierces through the white clouds threatens to blind him, taking in every stone he steps in from the moment he’d managed to tear his gaze away from the train he’d still not grown tired of, to stop staring with the awe of a five-year-old raised amidst green foliage and brown barks and nothing more he’d like to mention now.

So, no, he doesn’t find this place reprehensible. If anything, where Vanitas clenches and pulls himself together as if trying to disappear within himself and away from the cold surrounding them, Noé’s hands are clenched with the force of his delight, as if trying to keep him from bursting out of his skin, keeping him walking steady at Vanitas’ side when all he can think about is the many questions he has, always reserved for places he walks into for the first time.

Will this place remind him of Paris? The snow reminds him of Gévaudan, will it fall the way it did there, what are the sights of this place, what places do the locals describe with pride and hey, what’s hidden behind that corner, and will they have enough time and an opportunity to visit Lac D’Annecy, and what will the hotel look like, and-

He only notices he almost walked straight past the vampire doctor when his complaining finally seems to find conscious target in Noé’s ears.

He hadn’t been ignoring him, he wouldn’t claim that - he probably wouldn’t admit to it either, because if he had been, he’d probably not even noticed he’d started tuning it out -  the muttering and cussing had simply quickly merged with the sound of the freezing wind whipping past his ears, as easy to grow used to as the sound of Vanitas’ teeth clattering had been.

So maybe it’s a good thing Vanitas had decided to speak to him directly.

It means Noé’s actually forced to take a good look at him.

And shamelessly chuckle at the sight.

Hey.

It’s endearing how someone as self-assured as Vanitas always presents himself to be, can suddenly appear so small while facing something as powerful and at the same time mundane as the weather, contrasted with all the things Vanitas barrels through and finds ways to survive.

“I’m actually quite liking this place,” a smile, because he isn’t lying as he steps closer to the self-proclaimed vampire medic again, but also because the red in Vanitas’ face makes him a lot... nicer-seeming.

Prompts him to soften, almost.

It’s a tendency. He tends to forget how human Vanitas truly is.

No, let’s rephrase that.

He tends to forget how mortal Vanitas is, that he’s no all-mighty indestructible creature that breathes beyond the realm of humans and vampires both. That he’s, in a way, just a guy - never quite just a guy, for that, the impact he’s had on Noé is too large, the whisper of his existence ever too present in the forefront of his mind - and that he’ll risk breaking his neck if he slips on another patch of ice.

“Do you want me to carry you the rest of the way to the hotel? We’d get there faster and you could warm up sooner.” And as if certain the doctor wouldn’t disagree, he extends a hand, reminiscent almost of that time he’d asked him to dance.

His heart twinges at that.

Huh.

[tvrningout-archived]

     @chironitas​​ sent: “  i’ve always been honest about what sort of person i am.  there’s few indignities worse than lying to oneself. ” [ for chiyo! o u o ]           from: misc memes

     chiyo glances up from her laptop to raise an eyebrow at vanitas. " y’know, that sounds like a fancy way of saying, ‘ i’m unapologetically a bad person. ’ ” she’s teasing, of course; the way her lips twitch at the corners gives it away long before she actually smiles at the streamer. “ but what’re you getting at, vanitas? "

     she has an idea of what he’s going to say, but if vanitas doesn’t come out and say it himself, chiyo will gladly move on from the conversation. it isn’t one she particularly wants to have, in all honesty. the matter of her future is one that she’d prefer to ignore for a little while longer, just until she makes it out of this semester alive. if she can just get past these classes, maybe thinking about switching majors won’t make her sick to her stomach. maybe then, chiyo won’t feel so incredibly unsure if choosing art over teaching is worth it. she’d make a decent teacher, after all, and she’d always have job options... 

     but it wouldn’t make her happy. art, storytelling, creating -- that’s what will make her happy, even if she’s a dreadfully unsuccessful mangaka.

     chiyo drops her gaze back to her screen, skimming the last few sentences of her essay ( anything to distract and give her the appearance of nonchalance... but she also really needs to finish this ). “ if you’re trying to make a point, go ahead so i can pretend to consider it. ”

[awesomeuchuu]

📂 📂 📂 [ dealer's choice on muse!! 8D ]

Eichi is really struggling with trying to understand how his parents tick. There's the fact that they're disappointed with him because of his health issues. And they feel he's only a weak, brittle link in the whole Tenshouin family tree... But still they have never even once considered having another child. Instead they put all the blame on him for being sickly and fragile and it drives him up the wall at times.

Eichi will try anything - foodwise - at least once. He's been missing out on so much food that he'll gladly dive headfirst into anything. Still, if it's a meat based dish, there's a higher chance of him loving it, than say if it's a vegetarian one. Therefore, Indian cuisine isn't very high on the list when it comes to his favorite food.

Eichi rarely goes one night without nightmares. He's so often running a fever that fever dreams are almost a constant, and because of this, he refuses to remember any of his dreams. Thankfully most of them are easily forgotten, and if they aren't, the day when he's had them, he dives into his work with even more fervor than usual.

[astraltide]

@chironitas​ sent: 

vanitas certainly has a way of inadvertently making himself the center of attention. everything about him is eye-catching: from the dramatic, "fashionable" (if one could call it such...) attire, to the boisterous (and perhaps a bit forced) laughter while he makes idle conversation with others in the cafe. whatever he's doing, it's working; he's now on his second cup of tea, and he hasn't paid for either.

(it's not like he gets compensated well --- or at all, really --- for his particular brand of work; if a man wants good tea, a man's got to grease some palms....)

and so, don't mind him if he helps himself to a seat right... here; it's not like somebody being a complete stranger has ever really been a deterrent to him striking up a conversation when he's in a more pleasant mood (which, today, he is --- remarkably enough.)

"bonjour, mademoiselle! have you tried the earl grey? it's quite good!"

Truth be told, she’d been watching the flamboyant man from afar for quite awhile.  Oh, how good he was at charming others! Oh, how pleasant his laugh was and how skilled he was at getting people to buy him treats.  Amazing, a wonderful life-lesson for Ula indeed! Every so often she pauses in her observation to scrawl something in her notebook. The most recent entry: Practice laughing face in mirror. 

Of course, the notebook is hastily put away as he approaches. Ula finds her heart skipping a beat and her fingers dive into her pocket in search of money.  She had to buy him tea— Everyone else was! 

Ula digs more fervently at the mention of Earl Grey.  Who was this ‘Earl Grey’? A friend of this alluring stranger? “I don’t think I’ve met Earl.”  Ula states in a dreamy-sounding voice. “But I will buy him a cup of tea, too.”  If he glanced into her cup, he’d notice she’s drinking. . Warm water?? 

“Is Earl Grey a friend of yours?” 

[elysianbook]

vanitas will never admit it, but he has a soft spot for children.

---which explains the madeleines. he'd stayed up late last night making them for someone, whose identity he'd refused to reveal --- though perhaps the childlike drawing of his likeness now sitting atop his dresser had provided a clue....

(it's impossible for him to see a child and not see the ghost of his little brother, back in better days.)

"mademoiselle el!" he calls out cheerily, smiling and waving at the young girl. "i was looking for you! i've still got the drawing you made for me; my dearest friend, noé, was quite impressed by it as well --- he said you captured me most masterfully! i know you wouldn't accept payment, but---" he holds out the bag of madeleines, "---perhaps sweet treats might be an acceptable form of compensation?"

❀ » @chironitas

she is easy to spot, white hair, white eerie nightgown, often sitting alone in a certain area, as if waiting for something, or someone, parent whereabouts continuing to be unknown. legs would swing back and forth whilst she people-watches, sketchbook in hand. there are a few doodles in its pages: birds, butterflies, trees, the sky, but nothing else. no figure has caught her attention yet, and she's fickle, expecting to be struck by some spark of inspiration.

a familiar face, be it a mere second meeting or not, brightens the day of the child, arm waving at the kind sir in return, just as joyous. ❝ mis-... ❞ she stutters for an instant, word of choice plain obvious, before deciding to try another approach, a more interesting one. ❝ monsieur vanitas, why, hello there! ❞ a small, playful snicker comes out, fully aware of what she's doing. hopping jolly after each step, she approaches, looking up to him with a head tilt.

hm? is he still seeking a way to repay her? from what it seems, he has an unwavering will and a strict personal code of honour.

❝ oh, does your friend like it too? perhaps, you should bring him here. i would love to draw him as well, then you both could have matching portraits. how does that sound? ❞ it's a genuine invitation, sometimes it's good to have a physical proof of nice memories spent together. the bonds of camaraderie are a wondrous thing, in her opinion, worth cherishing for years to come.

❝ do not worry, i will gladly accept these pastries. if i must admit, they have a quite captivating fluffy texture, my eyes do not fool me...! ❞ previously accustomed to bland foods and bitter medicine due to her frail health, she appears to be curious of these little shell-shaped cakes. it makes her wonder whether it would have been better to ask her papa for a basket of homemade desserts instead of a new picture book, which gives her an idea.

❝ i know what i want to do now, i will play to be a birthday girl. thank you very much for your gift, truly...! i appreciate it wholeheartedly. ❞