Carrion is somehow in the tavern kitchen. The flesh god, despite being enormous, has somehow managed to make himself fit with room to spare. He appears to be making a fruit salad of sorts, complete with watermelon, cantalope, honeydew, pineapple, apple, pear, grapes, peaches, papaya, and blueberries.
Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
Atticus clambers out of the oven and climbs up Carrion's side to look at the salad.
Carrion bares a lipless grin and tilts his head to look at him "Hello Atticus!" he chirps happily.
"Hey baby." He nuzzles Carrion before picking up a blueberry and trying to feed it to the flesh worm monster god thing.
A mouth seems to manifest on his neck, opening and taking the blueberry gently from them. Carrion pauses for a moment, the neck mouth munching on the blueberry before he seems to make a face "Sour one."
Carrion is somehow in the tavern kitchen. The flesh god, despite being enormous, has somehow managed to make himself fit with room to spare. He appears to be making a fruit salad of sorts, complete with watermelon, cantalope, honeydew, pineapple, apple, pear, grapes, peaches, papaya, and blueberries.
Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
Carrion snaps his head around before colliding head-on with a metal rack of plates. He curses in some ancient tongue and rubs his forehead before grunting "Do you need something?"
Carrion is somehow in the tavern kitchen. The flesh god, despite being enormous, has somehow managed to make himself fit with room to spare. He appears to be making a fruit salad of sorts, complete with watermelon, cantalope, honeydew, pineapple, apple, pear, grapes, peaches, papaya, and blueberries.
Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
Carrion snaps his head around before colliding head-on with a metal rack of plates. He curses in some ancient tongue and rubs his forehead before grunting "Do you need something?"
They blink, though despite their human appearance, their eyelids move horizontally, and individually of each other, tilting his head as he looks over to them, like they are attempting to recognize Carrion.
"Detective Bluebell. Sounds nice. Just weird enough to be real." He examines the outfit. He baps the hat off Bluebell's head. "Miles better already. Have you considered some light scarring? Most wannabes don't have the nerve to go out and get beat up. You look too clean for the noir style stuff. A little stubble. Maybe longer hair. You wanna look professional, but not so professional that you could have come straight from the factory."
He looks down to the hat on the ground, sighing “I thought the hat worked, welp. I’ll take the advice, you seem like the type to know.” Scar tissue forms on his cheeks, like he took a sword to the teeth the hard way, leaving a scar that’s just long enough, a bit of stubble forming at the tip of his chin, “This better?” He ask, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.
He rubs his fuzzy chin, then nods. "A lot better. You look like a guy who got into fights for what he believes in. But..." He tilts his head. "The scars are a bit overpowering now. Unless you're looking for 'bad guy,' which is completely fine by the way, you might want to reduce the intensity of the scar tissue. You only need a dash of ruggedness. Keep it in the same place, though, it might add a hint of sympathy." He then begins to straighten Bluebell's coat. "If you want a hat, I'd say choose something other than a fedora. A cowboy hat is my topping of choice, but that's veering back into the neck beard flavors again. Personally, I just dress how I like, but you need to look your best while still expressing yourself. Have you considered pride pins?"
Carrion is somehow in the tavern kitchen. The flesh god, despite being enormous, has somehow managed to make himself fit with room to spare. He appears to be making a fruit salad of sorts, complete with watermelon, cantalope, honeydew, pineapple, apple, pear, grapes, peaches, papaya, and blueberries.
Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
Carrion snaps his head around before colliding head-on with a metal rack of plates. He curses in some ancient tongue and rubs his forehead before grunting "Do you need something?"
They blink, though despite their human appearance, their eyelids move horizontally, and individually of each other, tilting his head as he looks over to them, like they are attempting to recognize Carrion.
Carrion huffs "Child.. what do you need?" he asks, his tone more calm now that he didnt bang his head against some dishware.
"Hey baby." He nuzzles Carrion before picking up a blueberry and trying to feed it to the flesh worm monster god thing.
A mouth seems to manifest on his neck, opening and taking the blueberry gently from them. Carrion pauses for a moment, the neck mouth munching on the blueberry before he seems to make a face "Sour one."
"All flavors are important. They may be unpleasant on their own, like black coffee, but with the proper pairing even those without a liking for it can enjoy it." He climbs onto Carrion's head and lays on his back.
"Hey baby." He nuzzles Carrion before picking up a blueberry and trying to feed it to the flesh worm monster god thing.
A mouth seems to manifest on his neck, opening and taking the blueberry gently from them. Carrion pauses for a moment, the neck mouth munching on the blueberry before he seems to make a face "Sour one."
"All flavors are important. They may be unpleasant on their own, like black coffee, but with the proper pairing even those without a liking for it can enjoy it." He climbs onto Carrion's head and lays on his back.
Carrion ponders that for a moment before he nods, "Interesting outlook, I do agree." he smiles and dices up a banana.
"Detective Bluebell. Sounds nice. Just weird enough to be real." He examines the outfit. He baps the hat off Bluebell's head. "Miles better already. Have you considered some light scarring? Most wannabes don't have the nerve to go out and get beat up. You look too clean for the noir style stuff. A little stubble. Maybe longer hair. You wanna look professional, but not so professional that you could have come straight from the factory."
He looks down to the hat on the ground, sighing “I thought the hat worked, welp. I’ll take the advice, you seem like the type to know.” Scar tissue forms on his cheeks, like he took a sword to the teeth the hard way, leaving a scar that’s just long enough, a bit of stubble forming at the tip of his chin, “This better?” He ask, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.
He rubs his fuzzy chin, then nods. "A lot better. You look like a guy who got into fights for what he believes in. But..." He tilts his head. "The scars are a bit overpowering now. Unless you're looking for 'bad guy,' which is completely fine by the way, you might want to reduce the intensity of the scar tissue. You only need a dash of ruggedness. Keep it in the same place, though, it might add a hint of sympathy." He then begins to straighten Bluebell's coat. "If you want a hat, I'd say choose something other than a fedora. A cowboy hat is my topping of choice, but that's veering back into the neck beard flavors again. Personally, I just dress how I like, but you need to look your best while still expressing yourself. Have you considered pride pins?"
The length of the scars pulls back a bit as they do, thinking about it for a moment, contemplating all of this and adjusting his appearance accordingly “Pride pins? Hadn’t thought of that, actually, I think I have something that might work a little bit better.” On the collar of his coat, a flower bud pops out, blooming into a brilliant lavender flower, “Does this work? I didn’t know appearances were so complicated, it was so easy when no one had eyes to see.”
Carrion is somehow in the tavern kitchen. The flesh god, despite being enormous, has somehow managed to make himself fit with room to spare. He appears to be making a fruit salad of sorts, complete with watermelon, cantalope, honeydew, pineapple, apple, pear, grapes, peaches, papaya, and blueberries.
Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
Carrion snaps his head around before colliding head-on with a metal rack of plates. He curses in some ancient tongue and rubs his forehead before grunting "Do you need something?"
They blink, though despite their human appearance, their eyelids move horizontally, and individually of each other, tilting his head as he looks over to them, like they are attempting to recognize Carrion.
Carrion huffs "Child.. what do you need?" he asks, his tone more calm now that he didnt bang his head against some dishware.
He smiles at them, his teeth just don’t seem right, having a falseness to them “Just… hungry, sir. Would it be sir, or lord, or god?” He asks, tilting his head.
"All flavors are important. They may be unpleasant on their own, like black coffee, but with the proper pairing even those without a liking for it can enjoy it." He climbs onto Carrion's head and lays on his back.
Carrion ponders that for a moment before he nods, "Interesting outlook, I do agree." he smiles and dices up a banana.
"We're both unpleasant flavors in our own ways, but together I think we're a lot better." He watches Carrion work. "What does papaya taste like? Raw, I mean."
Carrion is somehow in the tavern kitchen. The flesh god, despite being enormous, has somehow managed to make himself fit with room to spare. He appears to be making a fruit salad of sorts, complete with watermelon, cantalope, honeydew, pineapple, apple, pear, grapes, peaches, papaya, and blueberries.
Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
Carrion snaps his head around before colliding head-on with a metal rack of plates. He curses in some ancient tongue and rubs his forehead before grunting "Do you need something?"
They blink, though despite their human appearance, their eyelids move horizontally, and individually of each other, tilting his head as he looks over to them, like they are attempting to recognize Carrion.
Carrion huffs "Child.. what do you need?" he asks, his tone more calm now that he didnt bang his head against some dishware.
He smiles at them, his teeth just don’t seem right, having a falseness to them “Just… hungry, sir. Would it be sir, or lord, or god?” He asks, tilting his head.
"I do not care childe, pick whatever you wish." he shrugs and slithers his body out the kitchen window "You are hungry hm? What would you like to eat?"
He rubs his fuzzy chin, then nods. "A lot better. You look like a guy who got into fights for what he believes in. But..." He tilts his head. "The scars are a bit overpowering now. Unless you're looking for 'bad guy,' which is completely fine by the way, you might want to reduce the intensity of the scar tissue. You only need a dash of ruggedness. Keep it in the same place, though, it might add a hint of sympathy." He then begins to straighten Bluebell's coat. "If you want a hat, I'd say choose something other than a fedora. A cowboy hat is my topping of choice, but that's veering back into the neck beard flavors again. Personally, I just dress how I like, but you need to look your best while still expressing yourself. Have you considered pride pins?"
The length of the scars pulls back a bit as they do, thinking about it for a moment, contemplating all of this and adjusting his appearance accordingly “Pride pins? Hadn’t thought of that, actually, I think I have something that might work a little bit better.” On the collar of his coat, a flower bud pops out, blooming into a brilliant lavender flower, “Does this work? I didn’t know appearances were so complicated, it was so easy when no one had eyes to see.”
"I think it's pretty good. Adds a lot of interest." At the last statement, Atticus snorts. "I wasn't around back then. By the time I was born, people were already killing each other on massive scales for petty reasons. That takes a lot of development."
Carrion is somehow in the tavern kitchen. The flesh god, despite being enormous, has somehow managed to make himself fit with room to spare. He appears to be making a fruit salad of sorts, complete with watermelon, cantalope, honeydew, pineapple, apple, pear, grapes, peaches, papaya, and blueberries.
Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
Carrion snaps his head around before colliding head-on with a metal rack of plates. He curses in some ancient tongue and rubs his forehead before grunting "Do you need something?"
They blink, though despite their human appearance, their eyelids move horizontally, and individually of each other, tilting his head as he looks over to them, like they are attempting to recognize Carrion.
Carrion huffs "Child.. what do you need?" he asks, his tone more calm now that he didnt bang his head against some dishware.
He smiles at them, his teeth just don’t seem right, having a falseness to them “Just… hungry, sir. Would it be sir, or lord, or god?” He asks, tilting his head.
"I do not care childe, pick whatever you wish." he shrugs and slithers his body out the kitchen window "You are hungry hm? What would you like to eat?"
“Food… any nourishment should suffice, my form in which I consume it shall change depending on what I am given, no point in attempting to convince you I am human.”
"All flavors are important. They may be unpleasant on their own, like black coffee, but with the proper pairing even those without a liking for it can enjoy it." He climbs onto Carrion's head and lays on his back.
Carrion ponders that for a moment before he nods, "Interesting outlook, I do agree." he smiles and dices up a banana.
"We're both unpleasant flavors in our own ways, but together I think we're a lot better." He watches Carrion work. "What does papaya taste like? Raw, I mean."
"Sweet and creamy, though the unripe kind is much tougher and bitter." he says, handing Atticus a slice.
"We're both unpleasant flavors in our own ways, but together I think we're a lot better." He watches Carrion work. "What does papaya taste like? Raw, I mean."
"Sweet and creamy, though the unripe kind is much tougher and bitter." he says, handing Atticus a slice.
He shakes his head. "Can't eat raw food. For all my power, I can't even eat a salad on my own."
He rubs his fuzzy chin, then nods. "A lot better. You look like a guy who got into fights for what he believes in. But..." He tilts his head. "The scars are a bit overpowering now. Unless you're looking for 'bad guy,' which is completely fine by the way, you might want to reduce the intensity of the scar tissue. You only need a dash of ruggedness. Keep it in the same place, though, it might add a hint of sympathy." He then begins to straighten Bluebell's coat. "If you want a hat, I'd say choose something other than a fedora. A cowboy hat is my topping of choice, but that's veering back into the neck beard flavors again. Personally, I just dress how I like, but you need to look your best while still expressing yourself. Have you considered pride pins?"
The length of the scars pulls back a bit as they do, thinking about it for a moment, contemplating all of this and adjusting his appearance accordingly “Pride pins? Hadn’t thought of that, actually, I think I have something that might work a little bit better.” On the collar of his coat, a flower bud pops out, blooming into a brilliant lavender flower, “Does this work? I didn’t know appearances were so complicated, it was so easy when no one had eyes to see.”
"I think it's pretty good. Adds a lot of interest." At the last statement, Atticus snorts. "I wasn't around back then. By the time I was born, people were already killing each other on massive scales for petty reasons. That takes a lot of development."
“It seems I had not developed enough with the times around me, thank you for assisting me, Atticus. What do you mean, interest, may I ask?” He taps the table once more, looking down at the muffin in front of him before picking it up, and unhinging his jaw, the muffin disappearing into the monster’s maw.
Carrion is somehow in the tavern kitchen. The flesh god, despite being enormous, has somehow managed to make himself fit with room to spare. He appears to be making a fruit salad of sorts, complete with watermelon, cantalope, honeydew, pineapple, apple, pear, grapes, peaches, papaya, and blueberries.
Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
Carrion snaps his head around before colliding head-on with a metal rack of plates. He curses in some ancient tongue and rubs his forehead before grunting "Do you need something?"
They blink, though despite their human appearance, their eyelids move horizontally, and individually of each other, tilting his head as he looks over to them, like they are attempting to recognize Carrion.
Carrion huffs "Child.. what do you need?" he asks, his tone more calm now that he didnt bang his head against some dishware.
He smiles at them, his teeth just don’t seem right, having a falseness to them “Just… hungry, sir. Would it be sir, or lord, or god?” He asks, tilting his head.
"I do not care childe, pick whatever you wish." he shrugs and slithers his body out the kitchen window "You are hungry hm? What would you like to eat?"
“Food… any nourishment should suffice, my form in which I consume it shall change depending on what I am given, no point in attempting to convince you I am human.”
"Honey, I could tell that from the beginning." he chuckles and tears out part of his neck, handing it to him.
"We're both unpleasant flavors in our own ways, but together I think we're a lot better." He watches Carrion work. "What does papaya taste like? Raw, I mean."
"Sweet and creamy, though the unripe kind is much tougher and bitter." he says, handing Atticus a slice.
He shakes his head. "Can't eat raw food. For all my power, I can't even eat a salad on my own."
"I think it's pretty good. Adds a lot of interest." At the last statement, Atticus snorts. "I wasn't around back then. By the time I was born, people were already killing each other on massive scales for petty reasons. That takes a lot of development."
“It seems I had not developed enough with the times around me, thank you for assisting me, Atticus. What do you mean, interest, may I ask?” He taps the table once more, looking down at the muffin in front of him before picking it up, and unhinging his jaw, the muffin disappearing into the monster’s maw.
"When things are one-note, they tend to get boring. You've got three strong flavors right now: professional detective, rugged hero, and thanks to the flower, you've got a bit of love and peace. Bluebells are representative of constancy, gratitude, everlasting love, stuff like that. You're trying to look like The Guy to Pick if You Need a Hero, so you want to be a multi-textural experience. Someone firm, but kind. Strong enough to punch a bad guy but gentle enough to pat a baby. It's a hard dish, but you've got all the ingredients and prepared them very well."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
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Detective Bluebell analyzes the strange being that is Carrion with a complex look in his eyes, uneasily deciphered, whatever it may be, though there is something that can be clearly seen, hunger, ravenous rather than simply hungry.
A mouth seems to manifest on his neck, opening and taking the blueberry gently from them. Carrion pauses for a moment, the neck mouth munching on the blueberry before he seems to make a face "Sour one."
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Carrion snaps his head around before colliding head-on with a metal rack of plates. He curses in some ancient tongue and rubs his forehead before grunting "Do you need something?"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
They blink, though despite their human appearance, their eyelids move horizontally, and individually of each other, tilting his head as he looks over to them, like they are attempting to recognize Carrion.
He rubs his fuzzy chin, then nods. "A lot better. You look like a guy who got into fights for what he believes in. But..." He tilts his head. "The scars are a bit overpowering now. Unless you're looking for 'bad guy,' which is completely fine by the way, you might want to reduce the intensity of the scar tissue. You only need a dash of ruggedness. Keep it in the same place, though, it might add a hint of sympathy." He then begins to straighten Bluebell's coat. "If you want a hat, I'd say choose something other than a fedora. A cowboy hat is my topping of choice, but that's veering back into the neck beard flavors again. Personally, I just dress how I like, but you need to look your best while still expressing yourself. Have you considered pride pins?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Carrion huffs "Child.. what do you need?" he asks, his tone more calm now that he didnt bang his head against some dishware.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"All flavors are important. They may be unpleasant on their own, like black coffee, but with the proper pairing even those without a liking for it can enjoy it." He climbs onto Carrion's head and lays on his back.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Carrion ponders that for a moment before he nods, "Interesting outlook, I do agree." he smiles and dices up a banana.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
The length of the scars pulls back a bit as they do, thinking about it for a moment, contemplating all of this and adjusting his appearance accordingly “Pride pins? Hadn’t thought of that, actually, I think I have something that might work a little bit better.” On the collar of his coat, a flower bud pops out, blooming into a brilliant lavender flower, “Does this work? I didn’t know appearances were so complicated, it was so easy when no one had eyes to see.”
He smiles at them, his teeth just don’t seem right, having a falseness to them “Just… hungry, sir. Would it be sir, or lord, or god?” He asks, tilting his head.
"We're both unpleasant flavors in our own ways, but together I think we're a lot better." He watches Carrion work. "What does papaya taste like? Raw, I mean."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"I do not care childe, pick whatever you wish." he shrugs and slithers his body out the kitchen window "You are hungry hm? What would you like to eat?"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"I think it's pretty good. Adds a lot of interest." At the last statement, Atticus snorts. "I wasn't around back then. By the time I was born, people were already killing each other on massive scales for petty reasons. That takes a lot of development."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
“Food… any nourishment should suffice, my form in which I consume it shall change depending on what I am given, no point in attempting to convince you I am human.”
"Sweet and creamy, though the unripe kind is much tougher and bitter." he says, handing Atticus a slice.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
He shakes his head. "Can't eat raw food. For all my power, I can't even eat a salad on my own."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
“It seems I had not developed enough with the times around me, thank you for assisting me, Atticus. What do you mean, interest, may I ask?” He taps the table once more, looking down at the muffin in front of him before picking it up, and unhinging his jaw, the muffin disappearing into the monster’s maw.
"Honey, I could tell that from the beginning." he chuckles and tears out part of his neck, handing it to him.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Hm.. What are the boundaries of that diet?"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"When things are one-note, they tend to get boring. You've got three strong flavors right now: professional detective, rugged hero, and thanks to the flower, you've got a bit of love and peace. Bluebells are representative of constancy, gratitude, everlasting love, stuff like that. You're trying to look like The Guy to Pick if You Need a Hero, so you want to be a multi-textural experience. Someone firm, but kind. Strong enough to punch a bad guy but gentle enough to pat a baby. It's a hard dish, but you've got all the ingredients and prepared them very well."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels