Seven was content with the verbal acceptance of the offer. He worked outside contracts and accounts, expected cash, and signed no name except the scripted numeral that identified himself. Even his official identity was tied to the number, traveling throughout the custody perfectly legal.
Ephraim was an enigma to Seven, and he enjoyed the man’s company all the more for it. The shallow world that flooded these modern days was entertaining, beautiful even, but exhausted in short bursts. Seven enjoyed the realm for all its pleasures, such as the titillating anticipation in which he waited for Zhenya’s cocktail, but roots did not grow in shallow waters. Ephraim lounged in the same superficial surf Seven was known to enjoy, but his motivations were a mystery. Why some men, women and others chose certain pursuits was an interesting twist to their fated destinies. The question led back to an entwinement of fate and freedom that Seven wouldn’t admit to pondering late into sanguine nights.
The click of her heels made him twist around to observe the elegant Zhenya’s return to the fray. Her coy smile was met with genuine gleam to Seven’s eyes that flushed fresh energy to their friendly game.
And as promised, the show unfurled before them, because all the great drinks in the world were draped with the drama of all the senses. The scent first tickled his nose, an intense mixture of spice, warmth and wood. Before their gazes beheld the spectacle of the drink, his head swarmed with euphoria that tingled his skin. Purple, white, and the deepest black presented itself before him. A brilliant smile lit him as he leaned over the drink to observe it in close detail.
“Marvelous!” he clapped.
He hated to disturb the artistry of the drink, but with the most elegant of grasps, he tipped it back. The liquid pooled on his lips, slick as a snake, and burst with heat on the tongue despite the chilled temperature that trailed down his throat.
A long exhale followed as he stared into the drink like his gaze may penetrate its inky secrets. His accolade was soulful and reverent. “To drink this is to stand before the eternal slumber of a departed beloved, dressed in all the flowers of the earth, a mixture of somber remembrance and a celebration of what once was,” he tipped his head with humble acknowledgement, before smiling brilliantly.
“I am duly amazed,” he said, and not for a moment did the praise roll in anything less than genuine admiration. "I will need to invest great thought into producing an equal surprise," he laughed merrily. Then he laid his head against the cushions and enjoyed the immensity of the all his senses.
((Praises are sung for @"Jaxen Marveet"))
Ephraim was an enigma to Seven, and he enjoyed the man’s company all the more for it. The shallow world that flooded these modern days was entertaining, beautiful even, but exhausted in short bursts. Seven enjoyed the realm for all its pleasures, such as the titillating anticipation in which he waited for Zhenya’s cocktail, but roots did not grow in shallow waters. Ephraim lounged in the same superficial surf Seven was known to enjoy, but his motivations were a mystery. Why some men, women and others chose certain pursuits was an interesting twist to their fated destinies. The question led back to an entwinement of fate and freedom that Seven wouldn’t admit to pondering late into sanguine nights.
The click of her heels made him twist around to observe the elegant Zhenya’s return to the fray. Her coy smile was met with genuine gleam to Seven’s eyes that flushed fresh energy to their friendly game.
And as promised, the show unfurled before them, because all the great drinks in the world were draped with the drama of all the senses. The scent first tickled his nose, an intense mixture of spice, warmth and wood. Before their gazes beheld the spectacle of the drink, his head swarmed with euphoria that tingled his skin. Purple, white, and the deepest black presented itself before him. A brilliant smile lit him as he leaned over the drink to observe it in close detail.
“Marvelous!” he clapped.
He hated to disturb the artistry of the drink, but with the most elegant of grasps, he tipped it back. The liquid pooled on his lips, slick as a snake, and burst with heat on the tongue despite the chilled temperature that trailed down his throat.
A long exhale followed as he stared into the drink like his gaze may penetrate its inky secrets. His accolade was soulful and reverent. “To drink this is to stand before the eternal slumber of a departed beloved, dressed in all the flowers of the earth, a mixture of somber remembrance and a celebration of what once was,” he tipped his head with humble acknowledgement, before smiling brilliantly.
“I am duly amazed,” he said, and not for a moment did the praise roll in anything less than genuine admiration. "I will need to invest great thought into producing an equal surprise," he laughed merrily. Then he laid his head against the cushions and enjoyed the immensity of the all his senses.
((Praises are sung for @"Jaxen Marveet"))