05-03-2016, 10:37 AM
you're metophorical gin and juice
so come on give me a taste
of what its like to be next to you
so come on give me a taste
of what its like to be next to you
As it were it was not angels that heralded the gilded rays of sun through Kirin’s window as his dreamy, fog filled mind had, for a moment, led him to believe. In fact it was a short, twitchy sort of fellow in crimson tails that strode around the room with a practiced grace. His hair was dark and slicked back, his face pinched with a large hooked nose. Later the lavender haired man would learn that this particular fellow was called ‘Honoré’ and with him bustled about a group of castle servants, drawing his curtains and fussing about the room as if it were somehow untidy.
Kirin rises in his plush bed, blinking around blearily as the bold shocks of red become a blur of movement to his sleep filled eyes. So many people were awake and nervously flitted about the chamber with obvious things to do and little time in which to do them. Previously he was a bit peeved at the sudden and unceremonious awakening, but now he realised as he sat just how well rested he felt. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a long stint of rest, actually he really can’t recall when that was. That mattered very little though, as now Honoré and several glove-fingered women ushered him from the warmth of his blankets, wrapping him in a fine robe as they scooted him out the room.
Though his mind raced with protests he didn’t have breath enough to utter the words as they flooded his mind. He was led with intent to a grand breakfast table made of polished oak with a delicate lace runner, atop which, sat the most glorious array of foods. Kirin was flabbergasted by the number of dishes that greeted him from their silver serving trays, it was more than he could eat, more than he could ever afford to attempt to eat. Steaming piles of scrambled eggs beckoned his growling stomach, while platters of fried bacon and oily links of sausage still sizzled where they lay. Piping hot buttermilk biscuits were among the selected menu items, as well as bowls of fresh cut fruits and buttered halves of toast. Jams of all sorts were lined up near pillowy stacks of flapjacks and boats of cream gravy, while crystal goblets twinkled full of orange juice- fresh squeezed.
Talk filled the room as Kirin watched each moving body with intent interest, they chatted freely about the day and what it might hold for him. As he had predicted, Kirin could not possibly place a dent on the lavish assortment of eats. He enjoyed the treat of a meal as best he could without gorging himself sick on the contents, and admittedly he indulged the sweet jams a bit more than necessary. When he finished the last bite his plate was cleared, a smiling red-haired woman coming to whisk it away for washing, while he himself was left alone to clean himself up.
Kirin found that this room had an attached bath, a grandeur one, thrice the size of any bathroom he had ever seen. Here, the eggshell colored walls were adorned with gold trimming- delicate swirls of filigree. Countertops of granite gleam in the fluorescent light, while a perfumed marble bath waits in the corner. Without much hesitation Kirin strips down to stand nude in front of the mirror, eyeing the the lines and curvature of his body that he had not beheld for some time now. At least not as a man, it was rare to have such a large expanse of the reflective material and he scrutinized as well as enjoyed the ways in which his form had changed into manhood.
Lost in his thoughts he jerks at the sudden realization that today might be the day he met the heir and there was no time to gawk at himself in the mirror. Taking the provided soaps and scrubs, Kirin washes himself thoroughly, not once, but twice. Over and over again he rubs small bars of rose soaps and sugar scrubs against his ever pinkening flesh until he is certain he is as clean as he will ever be- or ever was for that matter. Once the top layer of skin is surely sloughed off, he soaks in the steaming water, thoughts drifting back into his memories.
When he was young he recalls hearing of the heir, everyone was overjoyed at the birth, but times had been far better back then. A sketch comes to mind as well, a picture he had once seen of the Royal family depicted a youthful girl with sandy hair and honey eyes. Coffee and cream skin made her seem exotic and beautiful in a foreign sort of way, he wondered now if she was still as mesmerizing, his thoughts delving into fantasy. A shiver shakes him from his daydream, a breeze pulling him from carnal thoughts to that of the present where the water had long since grown cold. Slowly rising from the cool, perfumed waters, he wraps himself in the plush robe he had been previously provided with, snuggling against the soft material.
Today he had to look his best, he thought, slinking from the bathroom to the first bedroom chamber once more. Inside he finds his bag where he had carefully placed it on a velvet chaise and begins to dig inside, tossing the contents around in search of something worthy. Loose coins jingle against each other, money he had set aside for a cut and a shave but he had never really gotten around to that. There was too little time, he was in such a great hurry.
With a sour look Kirin selects his most presentable clothing items, those with few or no holes though the edges of material hung frayed on most of his ‘best’ pieces. Bits of loose string, seams delicately pulling apart from each other, it was pitiful at best. Surely he could distract her from his attire well enough to have his mediocre dress matter very little. He would have to.
One look in the full length mirror and it is more than obvious that even the servants clothes were nicer than his own best outfit. Self-scrutiny is short lived when a knock on the door jerks Kirin back to the awareness of his surroundings, his stomach curls as he rushes to smooth back his hair thinking it could only be one person- the heir. With a firm tone and tight jaw the lavender haired man calls for the visitor to enter, “Come in.” This however, was not the guest he was expecting. Instead, a whole group of someone’s descend upon Kirin and his private sleeping quarters, arms laden with boxes. Literally, boxes upon boxes, all shapes and sizes and colors.
Another wave emerges through the open doorway emitting a group carrying reams of fabric, the most luxurious threads he had ever seen. Not even Arthur carried such fine quality pieces in his shop, though Kirin was sure it was not because he hadn’t wanted to. Such pieces were quite obviously made only for those that could afford them. The best silks, wools, and cashmeres began piling atop his bed, while velvets and cottons made their own heap atop the plush chaise lounge. If they were not all right in front of his face he would never have believed that they existed, and it seemed that the hired help were just as excited and in a frenzy as he was.
Running his fingers against the different colors, he only half listens as the chatter grows and it becomes obvious that he is in for some sort of makeover. Both women and men titter away, placing swatches of color against his skin and holding up bolts of fabric to test them in the light from the window. He was expected to be making decisions, telling them what he liked and did not like while they catered to his fashion whims. It was really something else to be so involved with the process of clothes making, they even brought out a stool upon which he was to stand while they pinned and measured fabrics against his form. Kirin of course stood proudly, nodding or shaking his head each time a different color or pattern was offered to him for consideration. The whole ordeal took a lengthy amount of time but he was having such a delight in being waited on that he truly never realized.
In the end he made selections on color and textures. Not only did he want to look magnificent he wanted to feel it also, delving into the senses in more ways than just one. The final ensemble consisted of a rich, navy wool jacket with a crisp, voile cotton white dress shirt. To top it off he selected gold buttons and a floral patterned silk tie printed with delicate lavender flowers. Traditionally, he was not far off in the cut and style of his suit but as one might guess there were a few fashion forward elements to the entire thing. Kirin was sure to make a statement while looking presentable and proper for the era in which he lived.
On top of his perfectly fitted suit, Kirin had received a fresh haircut. The most slender woman he had ever seen had taken a pair of shears to his lavender locks with a precise and practiced skill. Truly she was a waif, thin and elongated with large blue eyes, and no perceivable curves whatsoever. She was magic with scissors though, and he couldn’t help but wonder just how magic her bony hands were.
The stout man to shave his face was quite the opposite, it was truly amusing the night and day looks of the two hairdressers. Where the woman had been thin, the man was large, rotund and it was no question that he had never missed a meal in his life. He had great red cheeks and a twinkle in his green eyes and he loved to laugh in great chortles that shook his belly as he worked. However large and sausage like the man’s fingers were it made no difference to the skill in which he worked with a straight razor. It was surprising to Kirin as the man gently waved his silver wand across his cheeks to reveal the smooth, porcelain skin beneath.
Once all was said and done and he stood to admire himself in the full-length mirror, a gloved-fingered woman handed him a rolled piece of parchment as they all bade him farewell to leave the room. There he stood, dumbfounded as he read the contents scrawled inside, it was the next leg of the competition, a meeting with the Heir- a date. He had to plan a date, and soon, like, very soon.
Mind racing Kirin quickly steps down from the pedestal, racking his brain and mumbling to himself as he paces across the room. What kind of date should he do? What would she like? As he tries to come up with something quickly the team of servers reenters, looking to him for decisions and offering to help him with any preparations.
Immediately Kirin knows he’d like to have a nice lunch or early dinner with the woman, and more importantly he wanted a hand in its preparation. “I’d like a meal of course and I need to be escorted to the kitchens. I want to see what kind of cuts of meat are available today and fresh ones.” He adds because he would only have the best, he would even make the cuts himself if they would allow him to, best to make sure it was done right no? With his meal plan discussed he thought he ought to do something more, an outing of some sort. “The horses. I’ll have Jack made ready, we’ll do that first actually- then the dinner.” The hired help only nod with each request, a few are making notes and others still are delegating who should do what. Without much direction a few men are already heading off to the stables, no doubt to prepare Kirin’s horse as well as the lady’s. Kirin himself was lead to the kitchens to inspect today’s meat selections and after that he was escorted to the end of a staircase for his date to begin.
It is not a long wait before the lady of the hour is approaching him, escorted by several guards and hand maids. Age has done her well, leaving the tan skinned beauty with long locks of spun gold, and gentle but comely curves to fill her dress. He bows as she nears, turning his torso the way he had been shown as a child and he can feel her eyes and smile on him as she extends a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, I am lady Frances.” Her voice is sweet and soft with a pronounced confidence that only the royal born could hold. Taking her silky hand in his he places a light kiss on the top before returning pleasantries. “On the contrary, I am the one to be pleased to meet you. My name is Kirin, won’t you join me for a ride?” The question is aided by the gesture of his free hand as he is reluctant to let her palm go and instead means to walk her to the stables.
Kirin was finding he was rather fond of Jack and he wasn’t aware just how glorious of a creature horses were, he should have bought one much sooner.The Heir’s own horse is a fine bay mare, with a prominent star and several white socks. She is just as calm and mannerly as her owner and stands patiently as Kirin boosts Frances into the saddle.Once on his steed he sets off towards the fields, several sprawling acres where orchards line the grassy hills. Although he has little saddle time to speak of Jack is a generous ride, needing little direction and taking up a slow leisurely pace. For a time Kirin feels as though he has been here before or at the very least had done this all his life- riding a horse that is. The reigns feel light in his clasped fingers and the gentle roll of the animal’s body beneath begins to match the pace of his own breathing.
Talk is often and it is polite. He does his best to make her laugh all while learning things about her, finding ways to know her more than just on the outside. Inwardly he commented to himself about the way her hair gently to her rounded breasts, and the way her hips found rhythm with the movement of her horse. She was striking and he could not be more pleased to discover it, she was even able to carry on intelligent conversation, a commodity he once thought lost on the beautiful. As the pair made it’s way through the sprawling clusters of trees her discovered many things about her childhood, her likes, her dislikes. The horse on which she rode was sired by her very first mount and the bay was fondly referred to as ‘Abby’.
Kirin was pleased that Frances was so easy to talk to, it made the entire competition all the more enjoyable and worthwhile. Not only was he eager to have a hand in her monetary assets but her physical ones as well, and afterwards he was sure she would be fine company to to enjoy the afterglow of sex with. Kirin shared the finest points of his own childhood, all things before the economy had turned over on its back but she was indeed curious about that part too. She didn’t pry near as hard as he might but she was a lady and she presented herself as one both in presence and in while in the midst of conversation. It was tactful the way she conducted herself and he couldn’t help but feel that his date was going exceedingly well, especially when they reached the garden gazebo for an early dinner. The surprised intake of breath was enough to puff his chest and the twist of her smiling face was indeed a good sign.
Frances was light as he scooped her down from her horse, holding her small waist between his hands and taking a long look into her honey colored eyes. With a blush she looked away and he released her to take her to her seat and offer her a pulled chair. Against hanging wisteria the soft flicker of flame lit the space even against the not yet drifting sun. Honeysuckle was a complementary perfume to the meal, a light portion of beef against a bed of greens and seasoned potatoes. White wine filled a crystal decanter and fresh baked rolls steamed with pats of butter melting on their golden tops. Pouring them both a generous glass of chardonnay he proceeded with a toast, “To us,” he clinked their glasses together with a rueful smile.
As far as the meal went Kirin could not have been more satisfied with the cut and preparation of their meat, the star of the meal. A light wine sauce coated the seared top and a sprinkle of herbs added freshness and color to their menu. Talk was light but he tagged that to the fact that the food was top notch, Frances had even commented on how lovely the meal was and Kirin tipped his glass to her with a nod.
Part way through Frances dripped a few spots of sauce down her chin to her exposed cleavage, looking embarrassed with a gasp of surprise. Before she could wrestle the napkin from her lap Kirin was up with his own, lightly dabbing the mess with a smile and quick comment. “You would be most beautiful even covered in sauce my lady.” His hand finishes quickly and the other tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, fingertip drifting to her delicate chin, her skin so smooth and soft. Moments later a bill is ringing, the gentle ting-ting from a crimson coated staff member and it is a signal that time was up, the date was at a close.
The rest of the evening is a blur and the next day speeds by in mere breaths. After supper (to which he could barely bring himself to eat) the hopefuls are brought to a room where they are told the first round of eliminations will begin...
Kirin rises in his plush bed, blinking around blearily as the bold shocks of red become a blur of movement to his sleep filled eyes. So many people were awake and nervously flitted about the chamber with obvious things to do and little time in which to do them. Previously he was a bit peeved at the sudden and unceremonious awakening, but now he realised as he sat just how well rested he felt. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a long stint of rest, actually he really can’t recall when that was. That mattered very little though, as now Honoré and several glove-fingered women ushered him from the warmth of his blankets, wrapping him in a fine robe as they scooted him out the room.
Though his mind raced with protests he didn’t have breath enough to utter the words as they flooded his mind. He was led with intent to a grand breakfast table made of polished oak with a delicate lace runner, atop which, sat the most glorious array of foods. Kirin was flabbergasted by the number of dishes that greeted him from their silver serving trays, it was more than he could eat, more than he could ever afford to attempt to eat. Steaming piles of scrambled eggs beckoned his growling stomach, while platters of fried bacon and oily links of sausage still sizzled where they lay. Piping hot buttermilk biscuits were among the selected menu items, as well as bowls of fresh cut fruits and buttered halves of toast. Jams of all sorts were lined up near pillowy stacks of flapjacks and boats of cream gravy, while crystal goblets twinkled full of orange juice- fresh squeezed.
Talk filled the room as Kirin watched each moving body with intent interest, they chatted freely about the day and what it might hold for him. As he had predicted, Kirin could not possibly place a dent on the lavish assortment of eats. He enjoyed the treat of a meal as best he could without gorging himself sick on the contents, and admittedly he indulged the sweet jams a bit more than necessary. When he finished the last bite his plate was cleared, a smiling red-haired woman coming to whisk it away for washing, while he himself was left alone to clean himself up.
Kirin found that this room had an attached bath, a grandeur one, thrice the size of any bathroom he had ever seen. Here, the eggshell colored walls were adorned with gold trimming- delicate swirls of filigree. Countertops of granite gleam in the fluorescent light, while a perfumed marble bath waits in the corner. Without much hesitation Kirin strips down to stand nude in front of the mirror, eyeing the the lines and curvature of his body that he had not beheld for some time now. At least not as a man, it was rare to have such a large expanse of the reflective material and he scrutinized as well as enjoyed the ways in which his form had changed into manhood.
Lost in his thoughts he jerks at the sudden realization that today might be the day he met the heir and there was no time to gawk at himself in the mirror. Taking the provided soaps and scrubs, Kirin washes himself thoroughly, not once, but twice. Over and over again he rubs small bars of rose soaps and sugar scrubs against his ever pinkening flesh until he is certain he is as clean as he will ever be- or ever was for that matter. Once the top layer of skin is surely sloughed off, he soaks in the steaming water, thoughts drifting back into his memories.
When he was young he recalls hearing of the heir, everyone was overjoyed at the birth, but times had been far better back then. A sketch comes to mind as well, a picture he had once seen of the Royal family depicted a youthful girl with sandy hair and honey eyes. Coffee and cream skin made her seem exotic and beautiful in a foreign sort of way, he wondered now if she was still as mesmerizing, his thoughts delving into fantasy. A shiver shakes him from his daydream, a breeze pulling him from carnal thoughts to that of the present where the water had long since grown cold. Slowly rising from the cool, perfumed waters, he wraps himself in the plush robe he had been previously provided with, snuggling against the soft material.
Today he had to look his best, he thought, slinking from the bathroom to the first bedroom chamber once more. Inside he finds his bag where he had carefully placed it on a velvet chaise and begins to dig inside, tossing the contents around in search of something worthy. Loose coins jingle against each other, money he had set aside for a cut and a shave but he had never really gotten around to that. There was too little time, he was in such a great hurry.
With a sour look Kirin selects his most presentable clothing items, those with few or no holes though the edges of material hung frayed on most of his ‘best’ pieces. Bits of loose string, seams delicately pulling apart from each other, it was pitiful at best. Surely he could distract her from his attire well enough to have his mediocre dress matter very little. He would have to.
One look in the full length mirror and it is more than obvious that even the servants clothes were nicer than his own best outfit. Self-scrutiny is short lived when a knock on the door jerks Kirin back to the awareness of his surroundings, his stomach curls as he rushes to smooth back his hair thinking it could only be one person- the heir. With a firm tone and tight jaw the lavender haired man calls for the visitor to enter, “Come in.” This however, was not the guest he was expecting. Instead, a whole group of someone’s descend upon Kirin and his private sleeping quarters, arms laden with boxes. Literally, boxes upon boxes, all shapes and sizes and colors.
Another wave emerges through the open doorway emitting a group carrying reams of fabric, the most luxurious threads he had ever seen. Not even Arthur carried such fine quality pieces in his shop, though Kirin was sure it was not because he hadn’t wanted to. Such pieces were quite obviously made only for those that could afford them. The best silks, wools, and cashmeres began piling atop his bed, while velvets and cottons made their own heap atop the plush chaise lounge. If they were not all right in front of his face he would never have believed that they existed, and it seemed that the hired help were just as excited and in a frenzy as he was.
Running his fingers against the different colors, he only half listens as the chatter grows and it becomes obvious that he is in for some sort of makeover. Both women and men titter away, placing swatches of color against his skin and holding up bolts of fabric to test them in the light from the window. He was expected to be making decisions, telling them what he liked and did not like while they catered to his fashion whims. It was really something else to be so involved with the process of clothes making, they even brought out a stool upon which he was to stand while they pinned and measured fabrics against his form. Kirin of course stood proudly, nodding or shaking his head each time a different color or pattern was offered to him for consideration. The whole ordeal took a lengthy amount of time but he was having such a delight in being waited on that he truly never realized.
In the end he made selections on color and textures. Not only did he want to look magnificent he wanted to feel it also, delving into the senses in more ways than just one. The final ensemble consisted of a rich, navy wool jacket with a crisp, voile cotton white dress shirt. To top it off he selected gold buttons and a floral patterned silk tie printed with delicate lavender flowers. Traditionally, he was not far off in the cut and style of his suit but as one might guess there were a few fashion forward elements to the entire thing. Kirin was sure to make a statement while looking presentable and proper for the era in which he lived.
On top of his perfectly fitted suit, Kirin had received a fresh haircut. The most slender woman he had ever seen had taken a pair of shears to his lavender locks with a precise and practiced skill. Truly she was a waif, thin and elongated with large blue eyes, and no perceivable curves whatsoever. She was magic with scissors though, and he couldn’t help but wonder just how magic her bony hands were.
The stout man to shave his face was quite the opposite, it was truly amusing the night and day looks of the two hairdressers. Where the woman had been thin, the man was large, rotund and it was no question that he had never missed a meal in his life. He had great red cheeks and a twinkle in his green eyes and he loved to laugh in great chortles that shook his belly as he worked. However large and sausage like the man’s fingers were it made no difference to the skill in which he worked with a straight razor. It was surprising to Kirin as the man gently waved his silver wand across his cheeks to reveal the smooth, porcelain skin beneath.
Once all was said and done and he stood to admire himself in the full-length mirror, a gloved-fingered woman handed him a rolled piece of parchment as they all bade him farewell to leave the room. There he stood, dumbfounded as he read the contents scrawled inside, it was the next leg of the competition, a meeting with the Heir- a date. He had to plan a date, and soon, like, very soon.
Mind racing Kirin quickly steps down from the pedestal, racking his brain and mumbling to himself as he paces across the room. What kind of date should he do? What would she like? As he tries to come up with something quickly the team of servers reenters, looking to him for decisions and offering to help him with any preparations.
Immediately Kirin knows he’d like to have a nice lunch or early dinner with the woman, and more importantly he wanted a hand in its preparation. “I’d like a meal of course and I need to be escorted to the kitchens. I want to see what kind of cuts of meat are available today and fresh ones.” He adds because he would only have the best, he would even make the cuts himself if they would allow him to, best to make sure it was done right no? With his meal plan discussed he thought he ought to do something more, an outing of some sort. “The horses. I’ll have Jack made ready, we’ll do that first actually- then the dinner.” The hired help only nod with each request, a few are making notes and others still are delegating who should do what. Without much direction a few men are already heading off to the stables, no doubt to prepare Kirin’s horse as well as the lady’s. Kirin himself was lead to the kitchens to inspect today’s meat selections and after that he was escorted to the end of a staircase for his date to begin.
It is not a long wait before the lady of the hour is approaching him, escorted by several guards and hand maids. Age has done her well, leaving the tan skinned beauty with long locks of spun gold, and gentle but comely curves to fill her dress. He bows as she nears, turning his torso the way he had been shown as a child and he can feel her eyes and smile on him as she extends a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, I am lady Frances.” Her voice is sweet and soft with a pronounced confidence that only the royal born could hold. Taking her silky hand in his he places a light kiss on the top before returning pleasantries. “On the contrary, I am the one to be pleased to meet you. My name is Kirin, won’t you join me for a ride?” The question is aided by the gesture of his free hand as he is reluctant to let her palm go and instead means to walk her to the stables.
Kirin was finding he was rather fond of Jack and he wasn’t aware just how glorious of a creature horses were, he should have bought one much sooner.The Heir’s own horse is a fine bay mare, with a prominent star and several white socks. She is just as calm and mannerly as her owner and stands patiently as Kirin boosts Frances into the saddle.Once on his steed he sets off towards the fields, several sprawling acres where orchards line the grassy hills. Although he has little saddle time to speak of Jack is a generous ride, needing little direction and taking up a slow leisurely pace. For a time Kirin feels as though he has been here before or at the very least had done this all his life- riding a horse that is. The reigns feel light in his clasped fingers and the gentle roll of the animal’s body beneath begins to match the pace of his own breathing.
Talk is often and it is polite. He does his best to make her laugh all while learning things about her, finding ways to know her more than just on the outside. Inwardly he commented to himself about the way her hair gently to her rounded breasts, and the way her hips found rhythm with the movement of her horse. She was striking and he could not be more pleased to discover it, she was even able to carry on intelligent conversation, a commodity he once thought lost on the beautiful. As the pair made it’s way through the sprawling clusters of trees her discovered many things about her childhood, her likes, her dislikes. The horse on which she rode was sired by her very first mount and the bay was fondly referred to as ‘Abby’.
Kirin was pleased that Frances was so easy to talk to, it made the entire competition all the more enjoyable and worthwhile. Not only was he eager to have a hand in her monetary assets but her physical ones as well, and afterwards he was sure she would be fine company to to enjoy the afterglow of sex with. Kirin shared the finest points of his own childhood, all things before the economy had turned over on its back but she was indeed curious about that part too. She didn’t pry near as hard as he might but she was a lady and she presented herself as one both in presence and in while in the midst of conversation. It was tactful the way she conducted herself and he couldn’t help but feel that his date was going exceedingly well, especially when they reached the garden gazebo for an early dinner. The surprised intake of breath was enough to puff his chest and the twist of her smiling face was indeed a good sign.
Frances was light as he scooped her down from her horse, holding her small waist between his hands and taking a long look into her honey colored eyes. With a blush she looked away and he released her to take her to her seat and offer her a pulled chair. Against hanging wisteria the soft flicker of flame lit the space even against the not yet drifting sun. Honeysuckle was a complementary perfume to the meal, a light portion of beef against a bed of greens and seasoned potatoes. White wine filled a crystal decanter and fresh baked rolls steamed with pats of butter melting on their golden tops. Pouring them both a generous glass of chardonnay he proceeded with a toast, “To us,” he clinked their glasses together with a rueful smile.
As far as the meal went Kirin could not have been more satisfied with the cut and preparation of their meat, the star of the meal. A light wine sauce coated the seared top and a sprinkle of herbs added freshness and color to their menu. Talk was light but he tagged that to the fact that the food was top notch, Frances had even commented on how lovely the meal was and Kirin tipped his glass to her with a nod.
Part way through Frances dripped a few spots of sauce down her chin to her exposed cleavage, looking embarrassed with a gasp of surprise. Before she could wrestle the napkin from her lap Kirin was up with his own, lightly dabbing the mess with a smile and quick comment. “You would be most beautiful even covered in sauce my lady.” His hand finishes quickly and the other tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, fingertip drifting to her delicate chin, her skin so smooth and soft. Moments later a bill is ringing, the gentle ting-ting from a crimson coated staff member and it is a signal that time was up, the date was at a close.
The rest of the evening is a blur and the next day speeds by in mere breaths. After supper (to which he could barely bring himself to eat) the hopefuls are brought to a room where they are told the first round of eliminations will begin...
Kirin
son of Khaos