❝ well, that was... ❞ his nose wrinkles, lips curling with faint disgust — as if the notion of trying to put what they've just experienced into words repulses him. ❝ ... something. ❞ something. it certainly was something. a cookie riddled with delusions of witch-ly grandeur. a new age of freedom. something about that ultimate cookie? ( seriously — she's still peddling that same old script? ) and lest shadow milk forget, the part he and his fellow beasts all have to play in this messy production. oh, it's going to end messily no matter what way they want to look at it. the question is whether it's going to be the GOOD kind of messy or the TERRIBLE FLOP kind of messy.
ah well. they already agreed to lend a hand. the only thing left to do is wait and see how the story goes.
they're seated outside — at a seldom-used patio set tucked away by the yogurt river. flora hangs down around them like thick, blueberry-leaden curtains. shadow milk exhales his fifth sigh in just as many minutes, as if trying to release the tension that's been coiled inside his chest since that disastrous meeting. he glances down as a pair of rabbits scuttle over — one holding a basket of fruit, the other a plate of various cheeses and crackers. ❝ what kind of tea did you bring for us today? ❞
@whiteflourfog liked for a starter.
