[He watches her as her voices goes soft, wistful. It does sound important. Sharing memories, sharing stories. It's why he is what he is; so he, too, can preserve the things that are most important to him. Memories, and the emotions they left printed upon his heart. That in her world, they can simply show things as they looked, when they were looked upon by the gazer --
He laughs.] Ah, right. Like The Lady Gaga? Perhaps I would have played a show or two with her.
[He shakes his head at the question.] I do know of whipped cream, however. We would eat it slightly chilled with fruits. It was lovely.
[However, he isn't terrible offended that she may laugh, anyway. It brings her joy, and that's enough for him. Besides, his curiousity is a hungry, burning thing. All of these stories, these experiences, and yes, even the cuisine -- things he cannot imagine, that no other bard has ever seen. Uniquely available to him through the lives of his companions.
Of course, her first choice of food is -- some sort of cylinder and a bag. Er. He's pretty sure it's a bag, though it's akin more to a pillow. When she opens it, the smell is. Indescribable. It's... like salt, but. Not salt. Slightly pungent. Sort of like a potato that's been left in a sack too long.]
Flavor... dust?
[He wrinkles his nose at the idea, which only gives an image of one licking across dusty floors. Peering inside the bag leaves him not sure what he's looking at, but the color is uniquely grotesque.
Maybe he'll. Wait on that.
He goes for the bottle instead, frowning a bit as he realizes it's. It's hissing. Why is it hissing? As he brings it to his ear and gives it a shake, the sound grows even louder -- which startles him enough to drop it.
The bottle hits the corner of the stump holding their wine glasses, which is apparently where a demon resides, simply waiting for its chance to spread chaos. All at once, the liquid inside explodes its way out of the bottle specifically to coat him in a horrible, sticky wave of -- of evil, foul liquid with the tenacity and volume of Alucard's swarm of screaming bats.
He will not admit he may have screeched himself in surprise, and now he sits there, dripping, wiping what is apparently a doctor's potion out of his eyes.
no subject
He laughs.] Ah, right. Like The Lady Gaga? Perhaps I would have played a show or two with her.
[He shakes his head at the question.] I do know of whipped cream, however. We would eat it slightly chilled with fruits. It was lovely.
[However, he isn't terrible offended that she may laugh, anyway. It brings her joy, and that's enough for him. Besides, his curiousity is a hungry, burning thing. All of these stories, these experiences, and yes, even the cuisine -- things he cannot imagine, that no other bard has ever seen. Uniquely available to him through the lives of his companions.
Of course, her first choice of food is -- some sort of cylinder and a bag. Er. He's pretty sure it's a bag, though it's akin more to a pillow. When she opens it, the smell is. Indescribable. It's... like salt, but. Not salt. Slightly pungent. Sort of like a potato that's been left in a sack too long.]
Flavor... dust?
[He wrinkles his nose at the idea, which only gives an image of one licking across dusty floors. Peering inside the bag leaves him not sure what he's looking at, but the color is uniquely grotesque.
Maybe he'll. Wait on that.
He goes for the bottle instead, frowning a bit as he realizes it's. It's hissing. Why is it hissing? As he brings it to his ear and gives it a shake, the sound grows even louder -- which startles him enough to drop it.
The bottle hits the corner of the stump holding their wine glasses, which is apparently where a demon resides, simply waiting for its chance to spread chaos. All at once, the liquid inside explodes its way out of the bottle specifically to coat him in a horrible, sticky wave of -- of evil, foul liquid with the tenacity and volume of Alucard's swarm of screaming bats.
He will not admit he may have screeched himself in surprise, and now he sits there, dripping, wiping what is apparently a doctor's potion out of his eyes.
It sort of stings.]
Somehow, I feel like I should not be surprised.