“put that down, you don't know what it is.” (rain for tempest!)
[ ... ] 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬, 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟; tempest does not know what it is she holds. grey-hazel glamour flicker betwixt fellow ghoul & object of heightening interest at simple demand, gaze aglow with quiet confusion, curiosity, though her face reads alternatively / flat, at a glance. a gaze sharpened ever-slightly, then, hold more delicate as item transfers between hands. lips pulled into very mild pout upon further inspection, brows knitting together, head atilt incrementally to a side whilst fingers observe in lieu of sight.
it is not surprising that ⸺ for a new ghoulette, so recently summoned to the surface & immediately into service of papa v perpetua ⸺ tempest takes such keen interest in the human technology that makes their music possible. this time, the microphone. next, the instruments. & soon, if left to own devices, the recording studio controls... where temptations lay themselves bare for the most curious of souls.
eyes break from objects of interest to rain. then, reluctantly, her hands return the microphone to its original position; perfectly so, like it'd never been touched.
❝ if i'm to join everyone on the stage, ❞ spoken in a struggled english, like the words don't quite fit in glamoured mouth yet, ❝ then i need to know. soon. like these words, this form. ❞ the absence of her ghoulish tail unsettles her / were it to remain in glamoured form, it would assuredly swish unpredictably in the space behind her. instead, her nose scrunches briefly. ❝ you all already know. i have little time. it's ⸺ ❞ she deliberates, determines the word, revises the meaning in her mind, ❝ ⸺ unfair. ❞
@satanpraycr | making demands.
