1st creation {{ action/voice }}
[So, Daniella has been here for awhile. She's stayed quiet, just listening to the Vine and gathering information about her strange new surroundings, not approaching anyone (although she proves a bit hard to miss, being tall and beautiful and purple-haired) and not really caring about the Queen's plans. What does any of that matter to someone like her? Only three facts hold any real importance: this isn't Belli castle, she used to be dead and now she isn't, and there's been no sign of Fiona.
Today, she cooks nearby her chosen accommodations; a plain little house, a big pot of soup over an outdoor flame. In her own way, this is something of a rebellion: that building is not her home. It isn't where she belongs. Her purpose is not tied to it. So Daniella won't make her pointless, tasteless meals within it. There are various bird corpses scattered around, the small bodies crushed as if they had the life strangled out of them. If only they hadn't made the mistake of trying to help Daniella with her soup.....
Stir, stir. Stir the pot. The smell is strong yet slightly nausea-inducing as the wind carries it away. Oh, Fiona, where are you? You and your precious, precious essence of life- of woman. She needs it, the old jealousy rekindling, because it seems as if death was fleeting and Daniella must once more live only a half-full existence.
Eventually, the homunculus gestures at the Vine. She's been treating it well, having experience with plants, and it immediately produces a microphone. Daniella's voice is cool, calm, and yet unnervingly empty. Hollow, almost.]
....excuse me. I need to make a request. If anyone hears word about one Fiona Belli....please, say so. I am...her maid, and should be serving her.
[a long silence broken only by the muted clinking sound of her metal spoon against the insides of the pot.]
Ah....one more thing. [unseen, her mouth curves in a blank smile.] Have any of you....died? You don't have to answer this one, but it's...something to wonder about.
Today, she cooks nearby her chosen accommodations; a plain little house, a big pot of soup over an outdoor flame. In her own way, this is something of a rebellion: that building is not her home. It isn't where she belongs. Her purpose is not tied to it. So Daniella won't make her pointless, tasteless meals within it. There are various bird corpses scattered around, the small bodies crushed as if they had the life strangled out of them. If only they hadn't made the mistake of trying to help Daniella with her soup.....
Stir, stir. Stir the pot. The smell is strong yet slightly nausea-inducing as the wind carries it away. Oh, Fiona, where are you? You and your precious, precious essence of life- of woman. She needs it, the old jealousy rekindling, because it seems as if death was fleeting and Daniella must once more live only a half-full existence.
Eventually, the homunculus gestures at the Vine. She's been treating it well, having experience with plants, and it immediately produces a microphone. Daniella's voice is cool, calm, and yet unnervingly empty. Hollow, almost.]
....excuse me. I need to make a request. If anyone hears word about one Fiona Belli....please, say so. I am...her maid, and should be serving her.
[a long silence broken only by the muted clinking sound of her metal spoon against the insides of the pot.]
Ah....one more thing. [unseen, her mouth curves in a blank smile.] Have any of you....died? You don't have to answer this one, but it's...something to wonder about.