Inner Universe

seraphita angel ↳ FATED: kanda yuu & allen walker ↳ HOUSING: café town apartment ↳ ACTIVATED: o6.13.15 ↳ TRACKED TAG: amritadrop [ affiliated with koinoyokan ]

[mitoshiro]

          †›› A philosophical response only provided further confusion. He responded immediately without considering the context surrounding her answer. “Che, of course everyone doesn’t have-” It suddenly struck him that she was referring to the alternate meaning of the word ‘innocence’- the meaning that was primary to most, but secondary to the exorcist.

           He diverted his gaze towards his artificially created companion. Her powers were beyond a schema that he could currently provide. The smallest ounce of faith was placed in the golem and the abilities that she claimed to possess. The swordsman could merely serve as a bystander in this situation. 

           Furrowed brows were the only change in countenance as he watched lithe digits alter the current state of the small being. Observing the slightest movements in her being, it was apparent that her actions were beyond what he could currently see. His lack of use nearly became irritating as there were questions he couldn’t find answers for. Interrupting the process seemed nearly detrimental at this point- or so he believed until it appeared as though her body was ready to collapse under invisible pressure.

           As the girl fainted, his arm managed to reach out fast enough to assure that she wasn’t harmed further by a collision with the ground. The projected images caught  his attention before he could attempt to check on her well-being. 

           The video in front of him began rather eerily in nature as he viewed the beginning of an ordeal that slipped past his current memories. While he wished to deny amnesia, the recording only proved his denial otherwise. He saw fingers that weren’t accustomed to the delicate act of bandaging another’s wound. It was blatant that this digital self had a bond with the female despite harsh words; his actions had always been of far more importance as it displayed his true self. 

           Looking at the unconscious girl on his arm, it was clear that she matched the one in the video. Her voice, her countenance, her mannerisms were identical. Coming to terms with this new discovery, however, provided a faint sense of panic that would trigger an action impulsive in nature. His free hand extended forward, grabbing the golem that was most likely growing tired of being manhandled. 

           A few abrupt movements caused the images to flicker momentarily before dissipating completely. 

          「 ғιle deleтed 」

          With hesitance he shook the shaman without too much force, unsure of its effectiveness. However, brasher actions were difficult to muster up upon viewing the data that had been completely forgotten. “Hey-” The rest of his words weren’t ready to be more than mere thoughts just yet.

[amritadrop]

↳ ✽ - - - Dark lashes flutter slightly, the shaman waking blearily to the sound of his voice- a careful mutter of one syllable paired with a dark downwards glance, tentative and searching. 

❝Kanda…?❞ 

She shifted abruptly as she did, disoriented, the astonishment swimming in her eyes growing steadily. Confusion was evident, overwhelming even. Realization dawned as to where she was and what she had done. The shaman placed both hands on her collarbone in a futile attempt to calm herself, but a slight noise of embarrassment slipped from her lips.

He evoked such a powerful reaction in her soul, a storm of such magnitude where her heart should be. His presence led her into a sort of comfort, a sort of familiarity she couldn’t pinpoint. He was no figment of her imagination, no memory made flesh solely driven by the longing of a heavy heart. 

Sera undoubtedly knew that there was something she was missing; some key fact in the memories that played like static across the lids of her eyes. Perhaps his impact on her previous life had wormed so deeply that there was nothing that could be done to remove it. Having her tiny frame so close to him, letting his warmth ease unto her, she didn’t want to pull away.

❝Where’s… Golem?❞ She began, voice gentle in the lull of the slow process of fully coming back into consciousness. Fatigue gripped at her, but she visibly fought against it, not wanting to gamble with the possibility that all her efforts had been for nought- that she had failed him. The girl gave him a wide eyed undeniably hurt look, bottom lip trembling.

 ❝D-Did you see anything? Find out how we know each other? Why we’re here?❞

[fairerfield-deactivated20160206]

The golden fields of slumberland – art finds its form in the artist’s memory, running poignant images from the past to the immediacy of the present, funneling itself from the possibility of being forgotten to a bright visual reminder. That burning sunset and the tints below are what he knows best, and in his love for those recollections, they dominated the canvas.

Participants ebbed and flowed as though the wind, and he remained a constant in that bright hallway. By a certain point, all that he knew was the axis before him, the grid, and his graphite, the vision he maintained in mind and heart minimizing his world to the fair field he sought to recreate. Though a personal symbol of hope and family, he knew his endeavors would shine best when utterly candid, and he aimed to supplement his contribution with vibrant golds and parading animals. A few lively creatures were already sketched out – an elephant, a zebra, a horse … –, although some of their contours were smeared where the tip of his nose had run over them.

–Ah, the girl approaching him was the last thing he could have possibly noticed.

With a slight startle, he turned to that gentle voice, causing a fuzzy streak of graphite as he did. Did she call him George? He spared a quick glance left and right, observing that they were the only participants in the hallway. If he told her his name wasn’t George, might she leave…? Turnout had indeed been sparing, and he didn’t want to risk losing another painter.

Hoo boy, isn’t this interesting!

Mana straightened his back and extended a hand, though still remained on his knees, finding himself too creaky to properly stand up. ‘I’m happy you’re here to help, Sera. My name is M- ah, George Campbell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

As his section of the wall was largely the only portion still a work in progress, a few options for her sprung to mind. ‘What do you want to do? You could paint, sketch animals, or-’ scooting back a bit, he gestured to the faint outline of a tree he had made, ‘-fill in those lines with some quotes I wrote down. Any one would be a big help.’

[amritadrop]

↳ ✽ - - - She disliked hospitals. The instant in which she spotted doctors in lab coats, flashes of memories ran through her mind- the wires, the pain, constantly falling in and out of consciousness. Then, there was that tiny white room. Like droplets of dye in water, spreading, tainting to their color the purity of its clarity, uncertainty seeped slowly through her system, only a matter of time until she was consumed by her anxious thoughts.

The second she saw the mural, even in its unfinished state, the negative feelings dissipated. A dance of carefully applied color she had been drawn to, a hopefulness to the genre that spoke to her. To run her delicate fingers over the dabs of paint and immerse herself in those softly told stories the man surely held within him. The way he etched life, carved out breath and heartbeats with nothing but the art supplies at his disposal was nothing short of inspiring. She never expected to have a wave of calm flood over her anywhere within this building, but George had succeeded.

The smile he wore was humble and kind, almost sheepish in the subtle curve of thin lips. With chestnut hair and amber eyes as warm as the autumn light, surely he entranced all who came to know him, found even more endearing as one could spot his hard work, as evidenced on the tip of his nose. Pink dusted her cheeks, and ever so gently, the shaman shook his hand. ❝Likewise!❞

Grey gaze was disrupted with small, quick blinks; considering the options given to her and what her skill set would be most helpful in. Quietly, she rolled up her sweater sleeves and took the thinnest paintbrush within her reach, ❝Oh, I-I suppose I’d be best at writing. I’m afraid my artistic skills are no where near your own... Perhaps later I can help color things in...❞ She caught sight of the plethora of little sticky notes littering a cover of a sketchbook, thoughtful quotes scribbled down. With careful fingers, she looked through them.  ❝Ah! All of these are just so wonderful and uplifting… The children will love reading these on the wall, I’m sure. What brought about the idea to include them?❞

[venidus-blog]

( @amritadrop )

                        Intimidating. Stiff.

Though tentatively deemed to be decently approachable, it is automatically presumed that an exceptionally low tolerance for individuals who are ultimately perceived as nonsensical dwells within the outwardly decorous personage. An accidental step in an incorrect direction could doubtlessly yield undesirable results, which immediately necessitates the deliberate demonstration of restraint and politeness whilst in her presence. Given the significance of his current pursuit, successfully pulling this off should not prove to be extraordinarily difficult. While it is quite possible that all of this planning might eventually prove to be for naught as appearances can certainly be duplicitous, behaving in a manner that clearly suggests that he genuinely believes her inner persona to be drastically different from that which she exhibits is one unnecessary risk that he is not exactly keen on taking. 

  ❝ How much do you know about this place? ❞

[amritadrop]

↳ ✽ - - - The Embryon uniform was the last surviving material vestige of her former life. The last reminder that she once existed between two different worlds. One world where the rain was never ending and people turned into demons against their will. Another where the sun was black and the demons people should truly fear wore human disguises in white lab coats. So she kept it. Even though nothing else remained, she held onto it and occasionally let the memories sink down into the marrow of her bones as she relived the past.

But she could hardly call herself a soldier. The shaman hardly meant to mislead, but the winter winds tore through her normal civilian clothing too easily, its bite forcing her to feel her sensitive nerve endings. The thermal undersuit would work as a suitable substitute until funds allowed for a thicker coat.

❝Eeep!❞ Shock, even if only for a brief moment, flashed within her eyes, brightly within her grey hues. The question momentarily caught her off guard, leaving her standing wide-eyed with eyelids rapidly fluttering until she was able to recollect herself. A shift, a shuffle, and her quickened heartbeat began to settle. 

❝Oh… Well, I-I’ve been here for about 7 months, I think? So a bit more than your usual newcomer…❞ A gentle smile rested upon her face, cheeks still flush from the misplaced surprise.  ❝It would depend on what your questions are, but I can most certainly try to answer them…❞

[amritadrop]

↳ ✽ - - - Sera peeked inside and found the entire space done up in protective plastic. Sunlight spilled in through the large windows of the hospital wing, the late afternoon beams strayed across the canvas, bouncing off the white between the paint. A faint pencil grid marked the walls, along with a guide carefully sketched out. The shaman caught sight of a young man, approximately her age, hunched over on his knees and scribbling, so very close to the work, his nose most likely embellished with smeared graphite on the very tip.

She stood in sweet consideration for a moment, amazed at the progress he had made so far on his own. Every stroke he made had her more absorbed, grey eyes twinkling with excitement. Sera dipped down carefully, sifting through potential methods to announce her presence but not interrupt the creative flow he steadily maintained in his solidarity. Soon enough, the hesitation that twisted her posture and dictated her pace slowly dissipated. ❝…You must be Mister George. They told me the turn out hadn’t been too great but as long as you were here, we could still continue…❞ Hands curled near her chest, ❝…I would have been heartbroken if we had to postpone working on the mural.❞

Suddenly a gentle flutter of butterflies found a home within the pit of her stomach, cheeks beginning to flush a bright and intense shade of red, ❝Ah- I’m being rude! I-I’m sorry… I’m Sera. I’m really looking forward to working with you!❞

► [ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ: ] @fairerfield

[aienkienrp]

〢▸╽ hi there sweet mods! i'm sorry for falling off the face of the earth like that... sweats. i'd like to reapply for sera from the series digital devil saga. the date is november 22nd. thank you so much! ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ ╿

Welcome back to Koi, Sera!

You shall be placed back in Cafe Town with Allen (justice fricker) Walker and Kanda (soba fricker) Yuu. You weren’t gone long, so the house shouldn’t have burned down just yet! (Or has it?)

Your re-welcome package contains a kit of pastel clown makeup, matching t-shirts that say “If lost, return to Kanda” and “I’m Kanda,” and a package of winter socks for every day of the week!

✨ Milkshake mod

[izunee]

Commission of Sera from Digital Devil Saga for spacelenalee. It was a pleasure painting and animating her for you ^u^

Commissions are open!

Commission info | Find me on: deviantART | tumblr | FAQ Have a nice day!

[amritadrop]

〢▸╽ᴀʟʟᴇɴ╿:

She hasn’t noticed? How has she not noticed? Where the heck are the rabbits?

“Not a ghost, but…” He stared hard at the destroyed cage, wordlessly directing her attention toward it. “… What happened?”

↳ ✽ - - - The air of confusion that hung around her like a gentle cloak soon began to dissipate. Her gaze bounced from him to the cage and then back again. Its impact was harsh, waves washing up on the shore, the water ice cold. Shock was in full bloom.

❝Soba! Dango! Peaches! They’ve escaped?! The cage was so well built, I don’t understand... AH- Where could they have gone? They- they must still be inside the house somewhere! R-Right? What if they’re hurt? I wouldn’t forgive myself!❞

[amritadrop]

〢▸╽ᴀʟʟᴇɴ╿:

“Um…”

The bunny cage he built… has been blown to smithereens. And the rabbits were nowhere to be found.

“Sera…?” 

↳ ✽ - - - A slight apprehension fluttered across her features as she set her book aside and crown tilted, light eyes assessing him, the near picturesque image of a curious child. 

❝Is-... everything okay, Allen? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.❞

[amritadrop]

"There's trouble ahead, I can feel it."

↳ ✽ - - - The kitchen was alive with the smell of nutmeg, cinnamon, and pumpkin. Hopefully that was enough to distract from the fact it was also a small scale disaster: mixing bowls on the counter and stacked in the sink, flour in Sera’s dark hair (Allen’s too but the white camouflaged it so well), pureed pumpkin strewn in chunks and slivers. She was just beginning to knead the dough for their 11th pumpkin pie. Granted she was well acquainted with the exorcist’s insatiable appetite but the way he eagerly dove into the slices and how his face lit up was more than enough to give her the energy to continue.

❝There’s trouble ahead, I can feel it…❞ He murmured out of nowhere, wrapping his arm around his abdomen protectively and eyes growing narrow. She paused in her stirring, suddenly wary. There was a silence before he let out a gigantic burp.

❝Allen Walker!❞ She exclaimed in a breath of relief, clutching her chest to calm her fluttering heartbeat before she went into a laugh that transformed her, not a polite giggle hidden behind a pallid palm but a twinkling sound that made her spine curve forward, her cheeks hurt, and her lungs gasp for air, even tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. ❝Ah- I take that you just made room for more?❞

[amritadrop]

🍁, 🏰 or 🔪 ?!?

↳ ✽ - - - The world had seemingly fallen into a spectrum of colors overnight. ❝Are the trees dying?❞ She peered at him quietly, face solemn as restless fingers messed with the loose thread at the sleeve. Partly curious but mostly surprised, Allen had assured her that it was normal- just a transition of the seasons. Pink lips rounding in understanding, a quiet noise was given in response as her head tilted purely out of thought. Though familiar with the concept, never had she the opportunity to see the sight of autumn for herself. She had come from a world where no plant life had survived and there had been an insistent worry embedded into her that perhaps this world held a similar fate.

Burnt orange, gold, and crimson, the leaves kissed by fall were gentle in a windswept dance. It offered decent ambiance for the scene. The crunch of soft earth, of crisp and dried foliage beneath their feet offered a sweet symphony. Strange, very different, but once comforted, the shaman found herself in her usual lull of wonderment and delight. Her first glimpse of the patch was breathtaking. An enormous grassy field had been dotted with pumpkins- tiny ones stacked in heaps, pumpkins the size of her head resting on mounds of hay and strewn across wooden crates, and enormous ones heavier than what she suspected the pair of exorcists could carry scattered about.

As instructed, Sera kept her eyes trained on the ground, carefully evaluating each promising pumpkin they came across, ticking off the list of ideal characteristics in her head- perfectly round, bright orange, long stem, ripe; but as predicted something else appealed to the petite young woman. Her fingers traced round a small white pumpkin, plucking it carefully from its snug home among its brethren. Glancing back at her companion, she showed it to him brightly, ❝Look! A ghost pumpkin!❞

┊✻┊

In the silence of their apartment- they’re sitting on the floor with a protective newspaper underneath them. Both came to a mutual agreement to leave the little white gourd be (Which she may or may not have named Huppert) and split the work for the sizable pumpkin Allen had deemed superior to the rest. She thought to comment about how she wasn’t allowed to handle the knife, a syllable hanging on her lips, but she settled not to spoil the moment. She was, after all, given the just as important responsibility to “gut” the pumpkin. ( Which wasn’t as violent as it sounded, merely the tedious task of separating the seeds and scraping the stringy, dangly goop coating the inside to later make delicious pumpkin pies. )

❝Ah-ha!❞ Allen announced, brandishing a garishly orange carving utensil. Used to a captive audience, the vagabond got to work etching around the pumpkin’s smile, not minding a bit as newspaper crinkled signaling that she had leaned forward, her eyes wide with awe and a sparkle of excitement in them. 

He had taken a look of deep concentration, tongue sticking out as he tried to make everything as symmetrical as possible. ( She had begged him to not make a Kanda pumpkin and with a cheeky grin he agreed, begrudgingly settling for a clown pumpkin instead. For now… )

Its face was a little lopsided, but grabbing a tea light and plopping it into the completed jack o’ lantern, it automatically became Sera’s favorite. Even more when Allen conjured up a tiny top hat for his smiling pumpkin to wear.

[amritadrop]

〢▸╽ᴋᴀɴᴅᴀ╿:

            What could she do to help?

            Eye contact was nonexistent; for one, his position didn’t allow it, and it wasn’t one of his proudest moments. While he was capable of many different tasks, conquering this ‘toy crane’ didn’t fall under this specific category. 

             He had attempted to obtain an ambiguous item. Was is a ghost or a tiger? Why did it have horns? He couldn’t answer these questions, but there was an impulsive desire to harness his loose change in an attempt to obtain the thing for the shaman, since it fell under her taste in miscellaneous objects. 

             Five close calls later, he decided to take matters into his own hands- literally. It was hanging on the edge, close to the small door. Unfortunately, he has miscalculated his ability to grab the vague creature.

             “I only need my hand out of this damn thing.”

↳ ✽ - - - There, nestled in the pile of plush toys, was something resembling a grey kitten with a questionably large head and an angry expression that mirrored the man’s usual countenance just a breath’s width beyond his grasp. Dark brows rose as her expression shifted slowly from confused surprise to amusement.

I never would have thought Kanda was the type to like these sorts of things…?

The pads of her fingers pressed against the glass, gaze focused but attention decidedly not as she contemplated a solution. Given that there had been no specific directions offered, there was a trace of hesitance but there was also a part of Sera that dared to feel some relief. As intimidating as the swordsman tended to be towards others, she reminded herself that of all people he had come to her for help. She took a few steps forward and as her grey eyes met his dark gaze, a soft smile touched her lips as she only nodded in response, a silent request for him to trust her.

The plan started off nicely enough, though because her objective was so firmly in place, a strange boldness possessed her, forgetting his intolerance for close contact. The shaman pressed her body against his back, sliding her slender arm to parallel against his. She couldn’t very well break the machine with the little physical strength she possessed, so she opted to gently guide his hand out.

❝If you relax your arm just a bit-…❞ Feather light touches brushed his skin, ❝But, um, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to retrieve the cat as well… Did you really want it?❞ The question posed lingered somewhere between naïveté and authentic curiosity.

[amritadrop]

〢▸╽ᴋᴀɴᴅᴀ╿:

          With the exception of a faint grumble, little sound could be heard from the swordsman’s side of the phone call. Nervousness wasn’t the source of silence, but the situation wasn’t an easy one to describe. He already despised asking for help of any kind; this specific ordeal only made it harder to verbalize this minor distress.

          His hand was stuck in this goddamn crane machine. 

          “Che, I just need you to meet me at that shitty little grocery store that’s near the apartment…”

↳ ✽ - - -·Head tilted in confusion at the implication of the other’s tone. ❝S-Sure. I’ll be there in less than 5 minutes, okay?❞·

Petite body spun at her heel as she made her way to the grocery store, no further questions asked. Once there, eyes settled upon the swordsman in a rather compromising position. The machine flashed brilliantly, playing a lively tune, politely inquiring if the player would like to try again but… ·All she could feel was surprise and her hands were quickly raised to hover in front of her face to hide the expression. How did this happen? What was he doing? Was there something he wanted inside? Why did he call her? This thought and that sprinkled her mind like raindrops. Lower lip tucked in sympathy, her arms bend, fingers curling at her chest.

❝Wh-? What can I do to help?❞

[amritadrop]

↳ ✽ - - - It wasn’t until a familiar tune started playing that she paused. She blinked once- then twice at her cell phone. What a surprise! She smiled into her pale pink case, a mixture of indulgent and shy and elated. The shaman spent the first few seconds calming the butterflies behind her ribcage, barely fluttering faster than her heart. Kanda had called her after all. It must be important.

❝Kanda?❞ Pallid fingers tightened imperceptibly on the phone held to her ear. ❝Hello! Ah- It’s nice to hear from you!❞ A little strange… but nice.

► [ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ: ] @mitoshiro

[sirre-el-sudoroso]

another commission / q \

[amritadrop]

✧「 okay just a quick little blip that i apologize for lagging so much on my replies. i appreciate the starters people have written for me & i've got them tucked safely into my drafts so i'll definitely get to them as soon as the opportunity pops up! thank you so much starshines! you're all very wonderful~ ❤ 」

[amritadrop]

〢〢▸╽ᴀʟʟᴇɴ╿:

The snack-bringer was abducted.

Within the chambers of their small house, the discordant noises of an abused accordion had little space to disseminate without additional notice, in which, in a desperate attempt to deter any further musical endeavors(or something vaguely resembling such), Sera was whisked out of the room by one grumpy swordsman, with her going the steady supply of inspirational snacks. The bulky weight around his neck burdened the rapidity of his reflexes, preventing him from salvaging the functional setup of play, depress, snack, play he had going with the tiny shaman; but versatility of action dwells latent–in perpetual, proliferative motion alongside the tides of time–and his acuity to it flares whenever Kanda is involved.

He stationed himself outside the room they disappeared into and played the accordion as obnoxiously as was humanly possible. … But to no true avail.

In a few hopeful instances, raucous sounds of annoyance emanated from behind the wood, but neither of them emerged over the course of what felt like a solid thirty minutes, so, worn weary by the circuitous pumping of the bellows and smashing of the keys, he (now grumpy) sat himself beside the door. Disaster continued to spew forth from the poor instrument for perhaps a handful of minutes, but eventually dwindled into auditory ghosts as a need of mind overcame him.

Playing the accordion is quite taxing without snacks.

amritadrop

↳ ✽ - - -·Dark red, in almost perfect condition, and glimmering like a bright beacon of hope, it was another prize won in one of the vagrant’s gambling conquests. The tuneless whoosh of an accordion taken out of its case got her attention from the start and since then she had been his only captive audience, encouraging him with her soft laughter and occasionally popping a bite sized snack into a waiting mouth to help keep motivation and energy levels high. His left fingers flew over the little round buttons, while the fingers of his right hand tapped out a tottery and mistimed tempo using the upright piano keys. The crumbs that had gathered into the folds would fall to the floor, sprinkling the rug underneath them.

Kanda’s eye twitched in irritation at the unwelcome cacophonous racket, fingernails digging crescent moons into the palms of hands. Feeling the beginnings of a headache ebbing into his skull, Kanda reacted. Restraint shattered, calloused fingers brushed the shaman’s shoulder before he tugged her onto her feet a bit roughly. He then grabbed her hand the only way he knew how: tightly, like the clenched fingers of a fist; but it was so warm and such a comforting contrast to her own ice cold grasp, she allowed herself to be led away to meditate.

The swordsman made a grand attempt to ignore any and all sounds as he folded his legs underneath him, straightening his back, and resting wrists on his knees as he willed the tension out of his body. Lashes fluttering like hummingbird wings, she immediately shook herself from her thoughts and into focusing at the task at hand as she shifted anxiously into position, a small, penitent smile on her lips. For a few minutes afterwards, the bellows made loud discordant jangles as Allen’s hand incessantly pressed into the keys, exceptionably audible despite being on the other side of the thick door but soon the bursts of sound became more distant from each other until they disappeared completely.

Informally dismissed, she peeked past the door frame to see that Allen had fallen asleep, eyes flickering behind lids glued shut by whatever terrible nightmare was playing across his mind.

❝Tin ’n Lint… 600 guineas. The Tipsy Goat… 175 guineas. Poosie Nansie’s… 420 guineas.❞

The shaman paused at the mumblings, his voice tugging at her heartstrings, words bleeding with a kind of hopelessness she’d never wish upon anyone. Debts again?

Willowy fingers hovered over the scar, all angles and crimson red, before she gently placed her small hand on his forehead. Reaching deep into the source of her data manipulation, she drew out the power that always spun just beyond the horizon of her consciousness, letting the coded input seep through her to him. She’s always been told not to waste her gift on anyone, because she needed her strength but she always had a tendency to put others first.

❝I’m sorry I can’t do more for you but… hopefully this helps a little❞

She reeled in fabricated situations, much like ones she was used to creating for her virtual paradise, before she picked one made especially for him. The happenings of a life he had not yet had the opportunity to live flashed before his eyes.

❝Sweet dreams, Allen.❞

Carefully did she watch for his features to relax before she tiptoed away.

[amritadrop]

〢▸╽???╿:

amritadrop

“At this point I suppose I might as well go along with this farce. It beats having to face the death of the entire universe, at least. At the very least I wish they’d let me keep my Game of Thrones DVDs..”

↳ ✽ - - - ❝Please forgive me for eavesdropping... But you might be able to rent these DVDs at one of the kiosks they call Bluebox? Though I’ll admit I’m curious to know what significance this Game of Thrones has to you... It sounds- interesting? Oh!- Is it a series revolving around the recreational activities that are exclusive to royalty perhaps? You do look like a prince!❞