THE ART OF PLEASURING IS THE ART OF DECEPTION
I WANT TO KNOW THIS NOT AS KNOWLEDGE BUT AS AN EXPERIMENT
♟ Job Information
Dorvald, what a foolish name of a chef who wanted to steal someones recipe for food. Yet when they offered rewards for simply acquiring a scrap of paper with a few vague scrawlings of measurements and flavours. Fudge was okay for sure, yet it was still just a sweet, 1,500 jewel for a scrap of paper he couldn't even verify was true. Oh oh such a loose contract all the jobs in this place must have been worded by mere paupers without an education. Recipe card must be intact, just intact. her mind had been active of late, prodding at different ideas for how to coach and guide this individual towards bettering themselves as a person. Out for a week and this was the first night. No one said she had to be super sneaky. That would be boring right! Why not watch the coppers tidy up for a few days after. Hand traced the rough stone brick of the wall as both Tiresias Kardia Minor and Major activated, oh it felt so good, her back heated up as a trail of warmth swirled around down her neck as if someone had cut her open from her neck down. Slight sounds escaped her as her weight shifted from weight to weight, the lockpicks she had intended to use coating in a toxic substance thanks to Phoneus Krima. Gaze training down her hand pulling the curves of her own neck as the enhanced lockpicks, now considered a weapon smashed the wall of the fudge store down.
A rush, a burst it all came at once the rocks splitting open dust sprayed out, it crumbled she almost collapsed inwards as it all happened in a matter of seconds, the emotions and heat playing up. Dust settled as stones found themselves rolling to a halt, misted over her rose tinted vision blurred momentarily before focusing in on a scrap of paper which had fallen free from a slit within the wall. Clattered to the ground lockpicks discarded as the recipient was scooped up by the females hands, her human form seeming to almost shiver with every second as sweat bubbled up for no reason, the few shards of grass spiking up through the floor corroding away as it was drenched in her sweat. Laboured breaths as she rolled onto her back the parchment unfurling to reveal a fudge recipe. Such a simplistic recipe surely wouldn’t work, measuring it all together, sugar, cocoa, milk, butter. Leering her lips tightened the glassy outer coating of lipstick cracking slightly only the reveal a more alluring blue beneath. Measure it all out an which, smash away those lumps and drive away the bad flavours, pressure the mixture to evolve into a silky smooth texture which would cause shivers to erupt across her skin. Much like one did with bones bring it to a boil yet don’t burn it, too hot and even the nicest meat would go bad. No no this recipe was too perfect, it was what every man wished for and there would be no way she was going to just hand it over. Beating it, harsh and sudden beating the mixture as it cooled before slowly pouring it in watching how it's curves formed and twisted filling the container as it set. Yes she could change this, a few different values here with an extra ingredient there. No one would deny how lovely they would taste, just wait until Chef William Dorvald found out that the reason this fudge was so delightful, the reason it set fire to one's senses and penetrated even the toughest of food tasters was that it used aíma of all things, that smooth red velvet flavour which slid down so easily. Oh yes this would be simply fantastic.
Only the first day after the original owner of this recipe had left town, oh the poor chef would return in six days to find that some interesting events had transpired. Legs kicked into the air as her soft voice chuckled. Yes yes this would be perfect, momentum acted as a pendulum as she flipped herself up, balancing carefully on one foot before twirling around and prancing away. The recipe sliding into her blazer pocket for safekeeping until the morning. Draped in saliva she retracted her finger from her mouth, eyes caressing softly the reflection of the moon in her saliva. Oh it was truly beautiful reflected there with such perfection the moonlight gathering within. From the corners of her gaze a drunk man lay slumped, shirt ridden up her eyes raked across his muscles and defined shape. ”Kalí óreksi!”
Dorvald, what a foolish name of a chef who wanted to steal someones recipe for food. Yet when they offered rewards for simply acquiring a scrap of paper with a few vague scrawlings of measurements and flavours. Fudge was okay for sure, yet it was still just a sweet, 1,500 jewel for a scrap of paper he couldn't even verify was true. Oh oh such a loose contract all the jobs in this place must have been worded by mere paupers without an education. Recipe card must be intact, just intact. her mind had been active of late, prodding at different ideas for how to coach and guide this individual towards bettering themselves as a person. Out for a week and this was the first night. No one said she had to be super sneaky. That would be boring right! Why not watch the coppers tidy up for a few days after. Hand traced the rough stone brick of the wall as both Tiresias Kardia Minor and Major activated, oh it felt so good, her back heated up as a trail of warmth swirled around down her neck as if someone had cut her open from her neck down. Slight sounds escaped her as her weight shifted from weight to weight, the lockpicks she had intended to use coating in a toxic substance thanks to Phoneus Krima. Gaze training down her hand pulling the curves of her own neck as the enhanced lockpicks, now considered a weapon smashed the wall of the fudge store down.
A rush, a burst it all came at once the rocks splitting open dust sprayed out, it crumbled she almost collapsed inwards as it all happened in a matter of seconds, the emotions and heat playing up. Dust settled as stones found themselves rolling to a halt, misted over her rose tinted vision blurred momentarily before focusing in on a scrap of paper which had fallen free from a slit within the wall. Clattered to the ground lockpicks discarded as the recipient was scooped up by the females hands, her human form seeming to almost shiver with every second as sweat bubbled up for no reason, the few shards of grass spiking up through the floor corroding away as it was drenched in her sweat. Laboured breaths as she rolled onto her back the parchment unfurling to reveal a fudge recipe. Such a simplistic recipe surely wouldn’t work, measuring it all together, sugar, cocoa, milk, butter. Leering her lips tightened the glassy outer coating of lipstick cracking slightly only the reveal a more alluring blue beneath. Measure it all out an which, smash away those lumps and drive away the bad flavours, pressure the mixture to evolve into a silky smooth texture which would cause shivers to erupt across her skin. Much like one did with bones bring it to a boil yet don’t burn it, too hot and even the nicest meat would go bad. No no this recipe was too perfect, it was what every man wished for and there would be no way she was going to just hand it over. Beating it, harsh and sudden beating the mixture as it cooled before slowly pouring it in watching how it's curves formed and twisted filling the container as it set. Yes she could change this, a few different values here with an extra ingredient there. No one would deny how lovely they would taste, just wait until Chef William Dorvald found out that the reason this fudge was so delightful, the reason it set fire to one's senses and penetrated even the toughest of food tasters was that it used aíma of all things, that smooth red velvet flavour which slid down so easily. Oh yes this would be simply fantastic.
Only the first day after the original owner of this recipe had left town, oh the poor chef would return in six days to find that some interesting events had transpired. Legs kicked into the air as her soft voice chuckled. Yes yes this would be perfect, momentum acted as a pendulum as she flipped herself up, balancing carefully on one foot before twirling around and prancing away. The recipe sliding into her blazer pocket for safekeeping until the morning. Draped in saliva she retracted her finger from her mouth, eyes caressing softly the reflection of the moon in her saliva. Oh it was truly beautiful reflected there with such perfection the moonlight gathering within. From the corners of her gaze a drunk man lay slumped, shirt ridden up her eyes raked across his muscles and defined shape. ”Kalí óreksi!”
770 wc ♟ out of 750 ♟ notes
