#ed:thread

[beyonddeveil]

LOCATION: The Elywn House MUSE: Edward Elwyn STATUS: Closed | @dcrkpictures

Ed stands before the stove, staring at the boiling pot. It is absolutely filled with random vegetables. And some hams and sausages. Ed doesn't actually understand cooking, or flavor, or food. He taught himself human things like, nutrition and balanced meals but the rest have been pushed to the periphery. So his 'cooking' usually involves stewing and grilling ingredients. But do they taste good? No, absolutely not.

Once the ingredients are cooked, Ed just turns off the heat and grabs the boiling pot with bare hands. He brings it to the table and calls for Owen, "kid, dinner's ready." There are pieces of toasts on the table, and salt and pepper shakers for Owen. The kid always adds those to his taste. As they get seated, Ed scoops the 'stew' into a bowl and slides it over to Owen. "Anything new with you?" He asks as per usual, trying to have a conversation. He then shares his own updates, "we had a thief in the garden. I took care of it, though."

[beyonddeveil]

LOCATION: Flower Shop MUSE: Edward Elwyn STATUS: Closed | @enshrcuded

I bought flowers from your shop and it's been 4 days and now it's wilting! Blah blah blah. Ed stares blankly at the disgruntled customer, wondering why the fuck this human is running its mouth. The counter under his grip lets out a tiny crack. Flowers are just reproductive organs of certain plants which for some reason have aesthetic values to humans. They are dead, just like most humans will be in just a few decades. What's the difference if the plant carcass perishes today or tomorrow? Stupid humans. In days like this, Ed just wants to call it quits. He is a hellhound. His purpose is hunting, not listening to petty human problems and whining.

But Diana liked flowers. She wanted to open a flower shop someday.

So Ed kills his instinct to jump over the counter and tear open that throat with his teeth. Instead, he forces a smile, the kind where his lips may be smiling but his eyes are not. "I'm sorry. Would you like a refund?" He then finally notices another customer just standing there. He must have been distracted by his daydreaming of righteous gore. "Sorry. I'll be with you after I deal with—" he stops himself, choosing the word carefully "the refund."