#rafal: nel are you gæ. do you like humans.

[rafent]

[ coffee ]　allured by the bitter aroma of a beverage often favored by the little ones over the centuries, she had gravitated in the direction of its source, helping herself to a steaming cup with a partial smile of rare enthusiasm. among those meant for humans, coffee had one a rare place with her as a seldom-found treat of which some varieties promised to be strong enough for even a dragon's palate. with one more gratified inhale to savor the rising steam, she brings the delicate mug to her lips, and sips.

. . .

and in the next moment, calmly locates a familiar white head enjoying his own alley of the ballroom, and, without notice or greeting, presses the cup wordlessly into his hands, then steps quietly aside to take familiarity in his company.

　　　/ / /

( it's too sweet AKKLSSKGJ this is the wordless dinner table shuffling off of ur carrots onto ur siblings plate

The Ethereal Ball was once more at hand and unfailingly the same were the sore lack of culinary extremes. Dishes concocted by humans for humans could not remotely hope to satisfy Fell Dragons, particularly not one who preferred those made in a dozen times the usual quantity of sugar. His hunt through the confection table persisted until Nel's shadow fell upon him, the wordless transaction between sister and brother earning a spattering of red-eyed blinks and nothing more. Acclimation to such a sister meant knowing that she committed no act without reason. Said acclimation shifted seamlessly into trust as he sipped of the contents to reach his own answer.

"I see now why you have given this to me, sister." Now the abrupt exchange made sense, as if it were the product of a stinging disappointment. Taciturn disgruntlement certainly not at all to imagination where the Nel-worldly Rafal was concerned. Alternatively, it was precisely the imagination of it that whetted his amusement. "To you, what is inordinately sweet may as well be bitter. To be ambushed by such a burst of flavor, I would have liked to have seen the look on your face."

No matter his teasing the mug stayed its place in his hand. A taste too sweet for Nel was to Rafal just right; a welcome salvation that could be repurposed of sister's damnation; and as for what he had seen in the space at her side, perhaps yet to be discerned on the scale of those things. As the blanket of companionable silence settled over two halves with an old and homely weight, he sipped once more, spoke again only with the words tucked coyly behind a rim.

"Your entrance earlier did not go without notice. Or company." As thanks for the drink he did not mold his comment into a sharp question suitable for interrogations at knife point. But still a probe was a probe no matter how veiled in form. "Of all my centuries known to you, I was not aware that your fondness for the little ones extended in—" Sip. Side-eye. ". . .that way."