week two | dates

[marriagebroker]

Kiss the girl~!

Or guy.

Or person.

Or Messmer's snake.

Comments

[anathemaw]

[ they just need to rebrand as a fancy gastro cafe and jack up their prices and the customers will surely arrive!!

Messmer is fine just standing there and probably accidentally warding away customers even more than their weird menu options. He - and his snakes - keep their eyes on Ringo. ]

I see not how.

[ food is food... ]

[hexensabbat]

[More crepes for them, then. It's everyone else's loss. In fact, Ringo will just usher Messmer towards a table if he allows it.]

Whaaat, seriously?

But! The textures! The tastes! Some foods are hot, some are cold. Even being able to experience that much is so different and new!

[Because feeling and sensation are not the domain of data.]

[anathemaw]

[ there's something almost endearing about her excitement over such a banal matter, but Messmer doesn't have it in him to be endeared. He follows after her to the table, taking his seat without complaint. ]

The world is yet new to thee, [ he comments, halfway to himself. ] I had near forgotten.

[ he's, like, 20,000 times her age. It's no wonder she can find joy in things that he can't, even without all of his other baggage. ]

[hexensabbat]

[She sits as well, leaning back against the back of her seat casually. She's probably, like. Manspreading a little.]

Yeah. And it's about as far from new to you as can be, right?

So... you're sick of eating?

[anathemaw]

[ The Manspread Brothers over here... ]

I eat that I may yet survive. It is no more than errand.

[hexensabbat]

[Damn. Sucks, bro.]

Kinda seems like a lot of things are just errands for you. Is there anything you get to do that you actually like doing?

[anathemaw]

[ ... ]

The crusade yet rages on. Until mine duty is complete, I may not rest.

[ read: no ]

[hexensabbat]

... No wonder you're so sick of everything.

[Jeeze... that sounds rough.]

What's "the crusade"?

[anathemaw]

[ Huh. He must not have mentioned it to her. ]

I lead a war divine against Mother's grace-shorn enemies in a distant land. No longer do I wear the mantle of prince, but of commander.

[hexensabbat]

... Yeah, I guess I could've guessed that. That's pretty much the definition of a crusade, yeah?

[Hm.]

Is that what you wanna be doing?

[anathemaw]

It was my mother's request. Gladly didst I lend her mine aid.

[hexensabbat]

Gladly, huh...

[...]

I'm not very familiar with the concept of mothers and the sort, like you already know, but. You must really love her, then.

[anathemaw]

[ much as he tries to hide it, something a little more complicated enters his expression, if only for a moment. ]

Aye. More than anything I did love her.

[ he would do anything she asked, if she'd only ask... ]

... Hast thou truly no one to offer thee guidance in thy toddling months?

[hexensabbat]

[Toddling months, help.]

Well, not--

[Oh. Their order is called out!]

One sec.

[Off she goes to fetch their crepes, and when she comes back, she sets on them on the table in their proper places.

And then.]

Guidance? Not really. I've got my sister, but we've both been figuring things out at the same time, since we were created at the same time.

Guess we've been learning from the people we've met.

[anathemaw]

[ crab crepes!! they actually look and smell quite tasty. Messmer gives Ringo a stoic nod of appreciation for grabbing the plates before gingerly taking a protruding piece of crabmeat between two nails, pulling it free from its eggy enclosure, and holding it out to one of his serpents. ]

Then thou'rt fortunate, to swiftly find those who would teach thee kindly. [ a beat. ] And to have a sister with whom thou mayst endure life's trials.

[ he has many sisters, but only one who he truly feels that bond with, and she was much younger than him... ]

[hexensabbat]

[Wow... that's cute. Ringo watches this happen with clear curiosity. Messmer and his snakies......]

Yeah. I'm pretty lucky. And I guess I kind of get where you're coming from, because I feel like I'd do just about anything for her.

[Well.

Not a crusade. Pretty critically, not that.]