Post by mystifyingoracle on Aug 19, 2020 22:20:02 GMT -5
OOC: Collab between me and Kohaku's writer!
It had been a while since Silvio had shared his bed with anyone - at least since coming to Baltimore. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t been with anyone - not intimate with them, anyway - since he had traveled from the West coast.
It didn’t bother him much. It was hard to be close to someone without the emotional vulnerability first. Whoever the person was didn’t matter much to Silvio - it never had. Men, women, and everyone in between or outside of the binary all had their allure. He just needed a taste of their hearts before his appetite could be whetted for any other part of them; physical or otherwise.
He’d remembered how baffled the various labels and categories of attraction, societal taboos, and myriad other rules around intimate human interaction had made Spooky.
THAT’S A THING WITH HUMANITY? SERIOUSLY? BY THE ELDERS, YOU ALL HAVE SOME HANG UPS.
Silvio grinned in spite of himself at the memory.
Curled up in crazy quilts, mismatched bedsheets and pillow cases, he looked to the bedmate currently nestled beside him. The connection between himself and Kohaku had started so strangely compared to his usual. Typically he’d see someone’s art, read something they’d written, listen to them perform or talk or something that would tug at his heart until he tripped right into a little crush he could foster with gifts of time, artwork, or anything else he thought the object of his affections might enjoy. He liked doting on them, sweeping them off their feet, or just playing the besotted suitor. For Kohaku, it had been different.
With the vulpine man in repose beside him, the physical and the artistic had gotten all tangled up together. With their first match, they’d been pitted against each other on paper, but the reality had been different. He’d never felt such a strong simultaneous physical and emotional connection with anyone before - they’d been one mind with two bodies. Or...how had another person in their profession put it before?
Two people that share the same heart.
It wasn’t something he could ignore, and apparently Fujihara hadn’t been able to, either.
The sunlight was playing off the messy, russet thatch of his hair, the eyes with the perpetually sleepy downward tilt at their edges, the high set of his cheekbones, and generous curve of his lips. Everything about Kohaku, especially when he was striding about with that wolfish walk and that knowing grin, radiated pleasure. Not wanting to wake him, but unable to resist, Silvio reached out and delicately traced the tip of one finger along Kohaku’s stubbly jawline, enjoying the way the morning light filtering in from the window above them brought out the golden tones in his complexion.
“Mmmmph…”
Kohaku woke slowly. His nose twitched a bit first, then his body shifted, stretching out with a bit of a crack, accompanied by a wide yawn. One hand reached up to brush his hair out of his face as he flickered his eyes open. They seemed golden at first, but after a blink, it was gone. The sun reflecting in his eyes, perhaps.
“...hey. Morning, beautiful.”
Grinning sleepily, he propped his cheek on his fist, looking over at Silvio. He’d slept well, even in an unfamiliar bed- he’d felt cozy and safe all night, and honestly, it was the first good night’s rest he’d had in days.
“Admiring the view?”
“How couldn’t I?” Silvio replied with a grin of his own. “You sleep alright? Any bad dreams?”
Nightmares were something Silvio was familiar with. More often than not, he had some horror clawing at his unconscious mind; likely courtesy of his association with the cosmic terror tapped into his brainstem. Last night had been mercifully calm and dreamless. Maybe Spooky decided to behave with company over. Considering Kohaku had just spent the past few days in a rather harrowing situation, Silvio had been surprised at how peaceful his tag partner had been. Either the tattoo artist was shockingly good at allaying the foxy fellow’s fears, or this wasn’t a new situation for Kohaku. He had his suspicions it could possibly be the latter, but he didn’t want to go chasing zebras. Still, the way Ko talked about his life back in Japan - powerful father, family business, the apparent lack of concern for committing crimes internationally? It all sort of pointed to something that Silvio inwardly chided himself for even entertaining as a possibility.
What would a yakuza princeling be doing in a professional wrestling promotion?
Well, I don’t know, Silvio - what is a person who is essentially an eldritch warlock doing in a professional wrestling promotion?
Touche, self. You got me there. Remind me to write up a character sheet sometime.
“Hungry at all?”
“Yes. Please. Feed me and I will reward you greatly by doing the dishes like any responsible human being. I wouldn’t say no to whatever tea that was you made me last night, either.”
Chuckling, Kohaku sat up, flicking his head from one side to the other to crack his neck, rolling his shoulders afterwards.
“And I slept okay. I wasn’t expecting to but I guess being close to you helped a lot. Heh, maybe you’re secretly a magical dream eating tapir in human form.”
“Well, shit, now you’ve blown my cover. Gotta skip town before anyone catches on,” Silvio replied with a laugh, climbing to his feet and stretching lithely, ruffling his own hair to emerge more fully into the land of the living. “Tea. Right. I’ll get that going. And are you more a sweet breakfast guy or a savory breakfast guy? I got a waffle iron that hasn’t seen use in a while, or I can whip up an omelette if you want. Anything you can’t eat?”
“I’m a food guy. You make it, I’ll probably eat it. All I had to eat yesterday was airline food.”
Sliding out of bed himself, the vulpine young man gave another stretch. Looking down, he noticed he was wearing absolutely adorable rocket ship pajama pants- probably a stand in for his clothes. He’d come in pretty soaked, and by the time they went to sleep he was so exhausted he probably just grabbed whatever he was offered without looking at it.
“Cute pants. You have exquisite taste and I’m pretty tempted to keep these.”
“By all means,” Silvio replied. “They make your butt look out of this world.” Beaming, he gave Ko a wink and a finger gun before heading into the kitchen to get the kettle on.
The bedroom Kohaku found himself in was small, but cozy. There were more house plants, framed artwork, and bookshelves crammed with a hodgepodge of novels, comics, art books, textbooks, and study guides. On the bedside table a little photo album with a tooled, dark blue leather cover stamped with gold stars rests beside a small lamp with a stained glass shade. Everything about the apartment appeared to be geared toward comfort and hominess; almost to the point of sentimentality.
This wasn’t lost on Kohaku at all- in fact, he found it in perfect keeping with his partner’s personality. The whole place was so comfortable that he could just pop right back into bed and bask in the cozy safety of the place all day, but he was pretty sure that at some point Sil would appreciate having his bed back.
Shaking his head, his messy hair seemed to miraculously fall back into place. His clothes, thoughtfully dried and folded, were sitting nearby and he slipped them on, turning his cap backwards before following Silvio out, curiously nosing a bit, getting to know the place while resisting the urge to touch everything and look at it closer.
“I like your place. It’s really warm and safe. I know my place is a lot bigger but it kind of feels like an empty cave sometimes. Yours seems more lived in and stuff.”
“Thanks!” Silvio glanced up from his work whipping egg whites for waffle batter. “It’s really important for me to come back to a place that...I dunno, this might sound weird...embraces me? Feels safe? They talk about living spaces being like, shrines to yourself,” he said. “All the decorations and food and whatnot are kinda like offerings or symbols of who you are. And I mean, obviously,” he laughed, pausing for a moment to gesture to himself, “I don’t much care for bare walls. You grow up poor, you dream about what kinda place you might have one day, y’know? I never wanted anything big - just some place that was mine I could make up any way I wanted. Feel free to make yourself at home.” As the kettle went off, he paused to pour water into two mugs on the counter with strainer chains dangling over their sides. “I don’t have a TV, but there’s plenty of books if you wanna read or look at art or something.”
“That’s alright. I’m fine just watching you. Um… crap. That probably sounded weird or creepy or something but… I just like watching you do stuff. You seem so at ease in your own skin and really comfortable with who you are. That’s fascinating. Way too many people aren’t and it kind of bums me out when I think about it.”
Blushing a bit, Kohaku cleared his throat, tracing a finger idly along the tabletop.
“And that stuff… it makes a lot of sense. Where I’m from, there are shrines all over the place. Big huge ones that span entire mountains top to bottom and tiny little household ones that fit in a kitchen or back garden, and all of them are tended with offerings to the gods with things they favor, to make them happy. What’s wrong with doing that sort of thing for yourself? You’re important enough to be honored, even if you’re the one doing the honoring.”
Looking up at his partner, Silvio grinned. As he popped one hip up, placing his hand upon it, the other, still holding the whisk, came to his lower lip. “Why, Mr. Fujihara!” he said breathily, batting his eyelashes. “I am not just a piece of meat to be ogled!” He stuck his tongue out to lap at the batter on the whisk in an exaggerated mockery of seduction, but made a face and sputtered as he licked it. “Wow, that tastes real bad when it’s not cooked.”
Rinsing the utensil off in the sink, he went back to preparing breakfast, ladling some of the batter into a waiting waffle iron.
“Kyoto,” he said with a wistful smile. “Everybody talks cherry blossoms, but I’ve always wanted to go there in the Fall to see the leaves changing color. I hear the maples are spectacular.”
“Oh, they are. Oranges, reds, yellows, it’s almost like all the trees are on fire. Everything smells like leaves, some people roast sweet potatoes in hot coals, there’s bags of roasted chestnuts… autumn is a great time. Very underrated in my opinion. Though it doesn’t seem to be half bad here in the States either, what with your roast turkeys and pumpkin spice lattes.”
In spite of himself, Kohaku giggled a bit at the obvious expression of disgust as he licked the whisk.
“How can I help looking at you? You’re art. Everything about you is just so captivating, and, dare I say it, adorable. You’re cute, funny, incredibly nice, and, if I can say so, you’ve got a super hot butt.”
Resting his chin in his hand, he continued to watch Silvio go about his cooking.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” his host laughed, going back to the fridge for a package of strawberries while the waffles cooked. “I’d love to go to Japan someday. I really want to check out some of the gardens and museums. I heard Korakuen - that’s one in Okayama - they raise cranes there and release them on New Years.” Turning he nodded to one of the prints on his living room walls; this one of a woman in a kimono of gold, green, and red seated on a box cradling a black cat against herself. “It’s also where Yumeji’s from. He’s my favorite Japanese artist. Does kind of an almost Art Nouveau style, if I had to compare it to anything. It has a really dreamy, almost ethereal look, but I guess that’s appropriate considering his name, huh?”
“Heh. Yumeji, making dreamy art. That is, indeed, apropos.”
Standing up, Kohaku strode closer, standing nearby while hopefully not being in the way.
“I really want to show you all those things one day. I want to take you home with me and give you the grand tour, show you the best of everything. I want you to see it. I want Ade to see it too, but… I think I’d just like to go with you alone first.”
He glanced at his shoes almost shyly before looking up again, his smile not a coy and flirty smirk, but something a lot more tender and earnest.
“Do you want any help?”
Silvio blinked in surprise at the shift in tone of Kohaku’s voice. He’d never heard him talk like that before. Smiling in return, he nodded, expression softening. “Yeah, if you could slice up some strawberries?” he said, offering the package and nodding to a knife block and cutting board. “This should be ready shortly. Got some whipped cream in the fridge if you want it. Condensed milk, too, if you have a real sweet tooth.”
“That sounds fantastic.”
With an almost inhuman grace, Kohaku began to slice up the berries. Every motion of the knife he held was graceful and quick, so much so that one might be nervous that he’d cut his fingers. He did no such thing, though, and it didn’t take long for a small pile of cut strawberries to rest neatly on the end of the cutting board.
“You know… my place might not be as homey as yours, but you’re welcome to come over and crash any time. Maybe if you stick around long enough your sense of coziness will start rubbing off on the place, though a few more pieces of furniture wouldn’t hurt. Or I could hang out here more often.”
Blushing a little, Kohaku scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I want to see you more. A lot more.”
This wasn’t anything Silvio had expected of Kohaku. The timidity, the vulnerability? It seemed at odds with his partner’s typical irreverence. That he was fine with showing it here? That he trusted Silvio that much? It wasn’t anything the Oracle was going to take for granted.
Taking a step closer, he reached out to touch Kohaku’s face. He let his gaze follow his fingertips, tracing along the angle of his partner’s jaw before following the line of his neck to linger at the hollow of his throat; warmth and pulse thrumming beneath his touch. Sliding his hand down his arm to lace his fingers lightly against Kohaku’s, he smiled before lifting his gaze again.
“I’d like that.”
Feeling a little tug in his chest, he began to lean forward when an acrid odor caught his attention.
“Ah, Hell!” he yelped, looking at the smoke beginning to curl from the edges of the waffle iron, just as the fire alarm began its shrill cry. Laughing, he opened the iron and shook his head at the blackened mass within. “Well...I guess that’s one good thing about waffle batter,” he said, picking up a fork to try and pry the ruined breakfast free. “If you mess one up, it's just another opportunity to try again.”
Kohaku laughed, opening a window to let fresh air in, freeing the smoke and appeasing the alarm, stopping its screaming.
“That it is, Sil. That it is.”
It had been a while since Silvio had shared his bed with anyone - at least since coming to Baltimore. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t been with anyone - not intimate with them, anyway - since he had traveled from the West coast.
It didn’t bother him much. It was hard to be close to someone without the emotional vulnerability first. Whoever the person was didn’t matter much to Silvio - it never had. Men, women, and everyone in between or outside of the binary all had their allure. He just needed a taste of their hearts before his appetite could be whetted for any other part of them; physical or otherwise.
He’d remembered how baffled the various labels and categories of attraction, societal taboos, and myriad other rules around intimate human interaction had made Spooky.
THAT’S A THING WITH HUMANITY? SERIOUSLY? BY THE ELDERS, YOU ALL HAVE SOME HANG UPS.
Silvio grinned in spite of himself at the memory.
Curled up in crazy quilts, mismatched bedsheets and pillow cases, he looked to the bedmate currently nestled beside him. The connection between himself and Kohaku had started so strangely compared to his usual. Typically he’d see someone’s art, read something they’d written, listen to them perform or talk or something that would tug at his heart until he tripped right into a little crush he could foster with gifts of time, artwork, or anything else he thought the object of his affections might enjoy. He liked doting on them, sweeping them off their feet, or just playing the besotted suitor. For Kohaku, it had been different.
With the vulpine man in repose beside him, the physical and the artistic had gotten all tangled up together. With their first match, they’d been pitted against each other on paper, but the reality had been different. He’d never felt such a strong simultaneous physical and emotional connection with anyone before - they’d been one mind with two bodies. Or...how had another person in their profession put it before?
Two people that share the same heart.
It wasn’t something he could ignore, and apparently Fujihara hadn’t been able to, either.
The sunlight was playing off the messy, russet thatch of his hair, the eyes with the perpetually sleepy downward tilt at their edges, the high set of his cheekbones, and generous curve of his lips. Everything about Kohaku, especially when he was striding about with that wolfish walk and that knowing grin, radiated pleasure. Not wanting to wake him, but unable to resist, Silvio reached out and delicately traced the tip of one finger along Kohaku’s stubbly jawline, enjoying the way the morning light filtering in from the window above them brought out the golden tones in his complexion.
“Mmmmph…”
Kohaku woke slowly. His nose twitched a bit first, then his body shifted, stretching out with a bit of a crack, accompanied by a wide yawn. One hand reached up to brush his hair out of his face as he flickered his eyes open. They seemed golden at first, but after a blink, it was gone. The sun reflecting in his eyes, perhaps.
“...hey. Morning, beautiful.”
Grinning sleepily, he propped his cheek on his fist, looking over at Silvio. He’d slept well, even in an unfamiliar bed- he’d felt cozy and safe all night, and honestly, it was the first good night’s rest he’d had in days.
“Admiring the view?”
“How couldn’t I?” Silvio replied with a grin of his own. “You sleep alright? Any bad dreams?”
Nightmares were something Silvio was familiar with. More often than not, he had some horror clawing at his unconscious mind; likely courtesy of his association with the cosmic terror tapped into his brainstem. Last night had been mercifully calm and dreamless. Maybe Spooky decided to behave with company over. Considering Kohaku had just spent the past few days in a rather harrowing situation, Silvio had been surprised at how peaceful his tag partner had been. Either the tattoo artist was shockingly good at allaying the foxy fellow’s fears, or this wasn’t a new situation for Kohaku. He had his suspicions it could possibly be the latter, but he didn’t want to go chasing zebras. Still, the way Ko talked about his life back in Japan - powerful father, family business, the apparent lack of concern for committing crimes internationally? It all sort of pointed to something that Silvio inwardly chided himself for even entertaining as a possibility.
What would a yakuza princeling be doing in a professional wrestling promotion?
Well, I don’t know, Silvio - what is a person who is essentially an eldritch warlock doing in a professional wrestling promotion?
Touche, self. You got me there. Remind me to write up a character sheet sometime.
“Hungry at all?”
“Yes. Please. Feed me and I will reward you greatly by doing the dishes like any responsible human being. I wouldn’t say no to whatever tea that was you made me last night, either.”
Chuckling, Kohaku sat up, flicking his head from one side to the other to crack his neck, rolling his shoulders afterwards.
“And I slept okay. I wasn’t expecting to but I guess being close to you helped a lot. Heh, maybe you’re secretly a magical dream eating tapir in human form.”
“Well, shit, now you’ve blown my cover. Gotta skip town before anyone catches on,” Silvio replied with a laugh, climbing to his feet and stretching lithely, ruffling his own hair to emerge more fully into the land of the living. “Tea. Right. I’ll get that going. And are you more a sweet breakfast guy or a savory breakfast guy? I got a waffle iron that hasn’t seen use in a while, or I can whip up an omelette if you want. Anything you can’t eat?”
“I’m a food guy. You make it, I’ll probably eat it. All I had to eat yesterday was airline food.”
Sliding out of bed himself, the vulpine young man gave another stretch. Looking down, he noticed he was wearing absolutely adorable rocket ship pajama pants- probably a stand in for his clothes. He’d come in pretty soaked, and by the time they went to sleep he was so exhausted he probably just grabbed whatever he was offered without looking at it.
“Cute pants. You have exquisite taste and I’m pretty tempted to keep these.”
“By all means,” Silvio replied. “They make your butt look out of this world.” Beaming, he gave Ko a wink and a finger gun before heading into the kitchen to get the kettle on.
The bedroom Kohaku found himself in was small, but cozy. There were more house plants, framed artwork, and bookshelves crammed with a hodgepodge of novels, comics, art books, textbooks, and study guides. On the bedside table a little photo album with a tooled, dark blue leather cover stamped with gold stars rests beside a small lamp with a stained glass shade. Everything about the apartment appeared to be geared toward comfort and hominess; almost to the point of sentimentality.
This wasn’t lost on Kohaku at all- in fact, he found it in perfect keeping with his partner’s personality. The whole place was so comfortable that he could just pop right back into bed and bask in the cozy safety of the place all day, but he was pretty sure that at some point Sil would appreciate having his bed back.
Shaking his head, his messy hair seemed to miraculously fall back into place. His clothes, thoughtfully dried and folded, were sitting nearby and he slipped them on, turning his cap backwards before following Silvio out, curiously nosing a bit, getting to know the place while resisting the urge to touch everything and look at it closer.
“I like your place. It’s really warm and safe. I know my place is a lot bigger but it kind of feels like an empty cave sometimes. Yours seems more lived in and stuff.”
“Thanks!” Silvio glanced up from his work whipping egg whites for waffle batter. “It’s really important for me to come back to a place that...I dunno, this might sound weird...embraces me? Feels safe? They talk about living spaces being like, shrines to yourself,” he said. “All the decorations and food and whatnot are kinda like offerings or symbols of who you are. And I mean, obviously,” he laughed, pausing for a moment to gesture to himself, “I don’t much care for bare walls. You grow up poor, you dream about what kinda place you might have one day, y’know? I never wanted anything big - just some place that was mine I could make up any way I wanted. Feel free to make yourself at home.” As the kettle went off, he paused to pour water into two mugs on the counter with strainer chains dangling over their sides. “I don’t have a TV, but there’s plenty of books if you wanna read or look at art or something.”
“That’s alright. I’m fine just watching you. Um… crap. That probably sounded weird or creepy or something but… I just like watching you do stuff. You seem so at ease in your own skin and really comfortable with who you are. That’s fascinating. Way too many people aren’t and it kind of bums me out when I think about it.”
Blushing a bit, Kohaku cleared his throat, tracing a finger idly along the tabletop.
“And that stuff… it makes a lot of sense. Where I’m from, there are shrines all over the place. Big huge ones that span entire mountains top to bottom and tiny little household ones that fit in a kitchen or back garden, and all of them are tended with offerings to the gods with things they favor, to make them happy. What’s wrong with doing that sort of thing for yourself? You’re important enough to be honored, even if you’re the one doing the honoring.”
Looking up at his partner, Silvio grinned. As he popped one hip up, placing his hand upon it, the other, still holding the whisk, came to his lower lip. “Why, Mr. Fujihara!” he said breathily, batting his eyelashes. “I am not just a piece of meat to be ogled!” He stuck his tongue out to lap at the batter on the whisk in an exaggerated mockery of seduction, but made a face and sputtered as he licked it. “Wow, that tastes real bad when it’s not cooked.”
Rinsing the utensil off in the sink, he went back to preparing breakfast, ladling some of the batter into a waiting waffle iron.
“Kyoto,” he said with a wistful smile. “Everybody talks cherry blossoms, but I’ve always wanted to go there in the Fall to see the leaves changing color. I hear the maples are spectacular.”
“Oh, they are. Oranges, reds, yellows, it’s almost like all the trees are on fire. Everything smells like leaves, some people roast sweet potatoes in hot coals, there’s bags of roasted chestnuts… autumn is a great time. Very underrated in my opinion. Though it doesn’t seem to be half bad here in the States either, what with your roast turkeys and pumpkin spice lattes.”
In spite of himself, Kohaku giggled a bit at the obvious expression of disgust as he licked the whisk.
“How can I help looking at you? You’re art. Everything about you is just so captivating, and, dare I say it, adorable. You’re cute, funny, incredibly nice, and, if I can say so, you’ve got a super hot butt.”
Resting his chin in his hand, he continued to watch Silvio go about his cooking.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” his host laughed, going back to the fridge for a package of strawberries while the waffles cooked. “I’d love to go to Japan someday. I really want to check out some of the gardens and museums. I heard Korakuen - that’s one in Okayama - they raise cranes there and release them on New Years.” Turning he nodded to one of the prints on his living room walls; this one of a woman in a kimono of gold, green, and red seated on a box cradling a black cat against herself. “It’s also where Yumeji’s from. He’s my favorite Japanese artist. Does kind of an almost Art Nouveau style, if I had to compare it to anything. It has a really dreamy, almost ethereal look, but I guess that’s appropriate considering his name, huh?”
“Heh. Yumeji, making dreamy art. That is, indeed, apropos.”
Standing up, Kohaku strode closer, standing nearby while hopefully not being in the way.
“I really want to show you all those things one day. I want to take you home with me and give you the grand tour, show you the best of everything. I want you to see it. I want Ade to see it too, but… I think I’d just like to go with you alone first.”
He glanced at his shoes almost shyly before looking up again, his smile not a coy and flirty smirk, but something a lot more tender and earnest.
“Do you want any help?”
Silvio blinked in surprise at the shift in tone of Kohaku’s voice. He’d never heard him talk like that before. Smiling in return, he nodded, expression softening. “Yeah, if you could slice up some strawberries?” he said, offering the package and nodding to a knife block and cutting board. “This should be ready shortly. Got some whipped cream in the fridge if you want it. Condensed milk, too, if you have a real sweet tooth.”
“That sounds fantastic.”
With an almost inhuman grace, Kohaku began to slice up the berries. Every motion of the knife he held was graceful and quick, so much so that one might be nervous that he’d cut his fingers. He did no such thing, though, and it didn’t take long for a small pile of cut strawberries to rest neatly on the end of the cutting board.
“You know… my place might not be as homey as yours, but you’re welcome to come over and crash any time. Maybe if you stick around long enough your sense of coziness will start rubbing off on the place, though a few more pieces of furniture wouldn’t hurt. Or I could hang out here more often.”
Blushing a little, Kohaku scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I want to see you more. A lot more.”
This wasn’t anything Silvio had expected of Kohaku. The timidity, the vulnerability? It seemed at odds with his partner’s typical irreverence. That he was fine with showing it here? That he trusted Silvio that much? It wasn’t anything the Oracle was going to take for granted.
Taking a step closer, he reached out to touch Kohaku’s face. He let his gaze follow his fingertips, tracing along the angle of his partner’s jaw before following the line of his neck to linger at the hollow of his throat; warmth and pulse thrumming beneath his touch. Sliding his hand down his arm to lace his fingers lightly against Kohaku’s, he smiled before lifting his gaze again.
“I’d like that.”
Feeling a little tug in his chest, he began to lean forward when an acrid odor caught his attention.
“Ah, Hell!” he yelped, looking at the smoke beginning to curl from the edges of the waffle iron, just as the fire alarm began its shrill cry. Laughing, he opened the iron and shook his head at the blackened mass within. “Well...I guess that’s one good thing about waffle batter,” he said, picking up a fork to try and pry the ruined breakfast free. “If you mess one up, it's just another opportunity to try again.”
Kohaku laughed, opening a window to let fresh air in, freeing the smoke and appeasing the alarm, stopping its screaming.
“That it is, Sil. That it is.”