[ After another tiny fae collects the next batch of muffins, it departs with an annoyed squeak in the two Adopted’s direction. As for kitchen itself, it does not halt. Instead a separate stove roars with a flame, heating a heavy, bronze cauldron when the stranger asks for-… for…
Blood.
His brow lifts, the first break of his impassive expression, and he looks back at the other Adopted. ]
So they do have it. [ It’s spoken quietly, with relief, a touch of awe. This stranger might as well have saved him. ] And you…
[ A familiar aromatic scent fills the chamber: sanguineous iron, life stirred slowly so it does not burn. The delicate muscles of Louis’ irises contract, and he wavers, a classical picture of starving. He manages to speak again: ] You… need it, too?
[ By the question itself, it’s clear that Louis hadn’t expected to meet someone like him so soon. ]
no subject
Blood.
His brow lifts, the first break of his impassive expression, and he looks back at the other Adopted. ]
So they do have it. [ It’s spoken quietly, with relief, a touch of awe. This stranger might as well have saved him. ] And you…
[ A familiar aromatic scent fills the chamber: sanguineous iron, life stirred slowly so it does not burn. The delicate muscles of Louis’ irises contract, and he wavers, a classical picture of starving. He manages to speak again: ] You… need it, too?
[ By the question itself, it’s clear that Louis hadn’t expected to meet someone like him so soon. ]