[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#000; border: none; width: 450px; height: 40px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 12px 1px rgb(0, 0, 0);][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: none;font-family: georgia;text-align: justify;color: #eeeef7;width: 400px; height: 20px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: 1px; margin-left: -5px; font-size: 22px; padding: 11px; text-shadow: 0 0 3px #f5efef]KYOUKA IZUMI X. BASKERVILLE
[fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: none; width: 425px; height: 90px; text-align: right; margin-top: -22px]夜叉白雪[/fancypost][/fancypost][/fancypost][align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#f5efef; border: none; width: 450px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 12px -1px rgb(0, 0, 0); background: linear-gradient(#1a1934, #626284); min-height: 130px; overflow: auto; margin-top: -1px; text-align: justify; color: #fff; font-size: 9pt; font-family: arial; line-height: 12px;][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 3px solid #c9c8e6; height: 100px; width: 80px; margin-top:5px; background: url(http://i.imgur.com/qLlufio.gif); background-position: right; background-size: 100%; float: left; margin-right: 9px; margin-bottom: 3.2px;][/fancypost]Perhaps at this point, it was safe to say that the pretty youth had developed quite the obsession with French cuisine--in particular, French dessert items, though...it was mostly with just all the various kinds of crepes. Vegetable crepes, crepes with meat inside, crepes filled with jam and whipped cream--honestly, she loved them all. However, strawberry crepes had to be the girl’s absolute favourite snack...and so, she had gone out and raided yet another creperie located on the eastern side of the metropolis, farther from the shore. It had been a bit of a pain to have to dash in and steal all the freshly-made ones off the counters without any assistance from her comrades and with her ability rendered useless, but it had certainly been worth it all, including the numerous scrapes and cuts she had sustained in her mad dash back to the hotel, with all her precious ‘loot’ tucked away in the basket she’d conveniently stumbled across the other day while she’d been wandering about the alleys at dusk.
Having arrived back at the grand entrance to the Port Mafia’s extravagant abode, the petite ebony-painted assassin would gently set down her baked goods and and heave a long, drawn-out sigh, whilst opting to plop herself down in a rather unceremonious fashion so she could relieve her aching limbs of their burden, the luxurious silk of her oriental garment pooling in folds of vibrant crimson around her paws as they spilled from the tense ridge of her shoulders. Lifting a single forelimb, Kyouka trailed her glacial gaze over the small lacerations and cuts, watching wordlessly as the blood rolled off her wrist like tiny droplets of rain, to mingle with the red of her clothing--dyeing the fabric a deeper burgundy hue. Often had Kouyou described the sight of their foes’ brilliant life essence bubbling from their throats to collect on the leaves of the surrounding flora as ‘poetic’--though in all honesty, the little girl couldn’t help but question her mentor’s opinion, in wondering if such a view was truly more magnificent than the sight of her own ichor coming to the surface of her skin. She was certainly no masochist, but she simply saw it as confirmation that she was alive and tangible--something her previous guardians had been unable to give her, due to some sudden change having occurred in their set of circumstances at the time.
[i]’...Maybe I should call a medic,’ was the thought that flitted absently through the stream of her conscience as she flicked a bead of blood off her otherwise pristine coat and onto the pavement, into which it disappeared completely. However, this notion was one that swiftly faded from the forefront of her placid musings and slipped away into the realm of oblivion--and was ultimately forgotten as quickly as it had come. Simple scratches were hardly a matter of concern in this day and age, and most definitely not to a member of the Port Mafia (though she couldn’t necessarily say that her decision to join their ranks had been of her own volition)--an organization that had always been notorious for openly proclaiming violence as their preferred method of currency. Wounds had always been a common sight back in the original branch, and this especially pertained to some of the more actively involved. But she digressed; after all, now was the time for her to be enjoying the rewards her efforts had reaped, and she had no intention of doing so and simultaneously dampening the mood with thoughts of homicide and the like.
Abruptly shoving the darker thoughts back to the recesses of her mind as a petulant child would do so with a plate of bitter edibles, the petite youth would then release a mild huff, before promptly selecting the crepe stuffed with the most strawberries, relishing in the sharp taste of the juices as they coated her tongue, before swallowing slowly. Hm...it wasn't bad--the contents of the pancake shell just seemed a little firmer than they usually were. Perhaps she had allowed it to sit out in the cooler air for a little too long. Oops. Though, it was an honest mistake and one easily fixed--she'd be sure to commence eating them sooner next time.
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&& lazily recycles post cx
[/fancypost][align=center][size=7pt][color=white]lightsy loves you | edited by seliane
[size=3pt][color=transparent] #izumikyouka #demonsnow #theportmafia #baskervillefamily DIALOGUE IN #9D9BD1
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