swimming pools [closed]

[Mute]

I'M WAKING UP I FEEL IT IN MY BONES Mute took up an endeavour that could either be disastrous, or it could be rewarding. In real life, if that moniker would be fitting for her past life, she used to prepare her own meals because of her deliberate distancing from her parents, and through that independence gained an interest in cooking. Being the scholastic person she was, she enjoyed picking up books and learning about the culinary arts from other countries and using it to bolster her meals at home. If there was any way to improve the living conditions in the dreary environment she called home back then, she was eager to take up the opportunity. It was one of the few things in her life that she enjoyed thoroughly, and she was glad that she could now employ the skill to make her lover happy. As it would turn out, Mute decided that she was going to do something very challenging; prove to a native of a country that she could make authentic food of that aforementioned country. She suspected that because she was making a dish reminiscent of Germany for someone who was German, she would be able to clearly assess and determine whether or not the dish held up to the standards of an authentic meal. The pressure was on. Over a half an hour ago, the young Heretic decided she was going to begin her meal. After all, soon the day would let evening start its shift and she wanted to be relatively punctual. Capsule wasn’t home, or at least Mute had yet to spot her, which gave her a window of time to start her preparations. Over the last little while, Mute was growing accustomed to living in the modernized house nestled in a discreet passage in the mountain. It took her a while to get used to a mountainous terrain, as she was used to grassy plains and towering hills. It was the first time she lived with someone outside of family, and while at first her timidity was running rampant especially when mingled with the ecstatic emotions broiling in her core, she eventually collected herself. Could she have stumbled upon a greater opportunity? To be living in the same quarters as Capsule, the girl that was so precious to her that even with her literary mind she could not muster words to describe the sheer magnitude enriched her life so much, defining it with a meaning that at a time never existed. If there was one thing that she could describe about the kitchen, she would praise how spacious it was. In the past, she never dealt with a kitchen that provided her so much leeway for movement and multitasking. On the counter before her she had her ingredients: celery seeds, caraway seeds, the meats she fashioned into bratwurst sausages, beer she retrieved from the fridge (albeit it, due to her class, wouldn’t yield any beneficial effects), light brown sugar, dry mustard powder, onion powder, black pepper, dried dill weed, and a pound of sauerkraut – drained. Resolute over the creation of her Fried Meal, for roughly fifteen minutes she pooled the entirety of her cognitive prowess into focusing on the job at hand. Her first task was crushing the celery and caraway seeds in a wooden mortar, using a pestle until they were finely ground. Without further ado, she set the bowl-shaped vessel aside. Shifting her attention to the brick oven adjacent, she placed a large metal skillet atop of it, and kindled a fire underneath to heat it. She mixed the beer, brown sugar, dry mustard, onion powder, black pepper, dill weed, and crushed celery and caraway seeds in the mortar, stirred until the brown sugar dissolved in the solution, and poured it all over the sausages. Wiping her brow with the back of her hand, she would allow it to simmer for ten minutes. From there on, there wasn’t too much left to it. Boil the sauce until it became more viscous, which she did for about twenty minutes. While waiting for that to finish, she made a mental note that next she was going to have to transfer the brats into the mixture until they were thoroughly coated, but it wasn’t quite a congealed as she wanted it to be yet, so she had a good amount of time left before the meal would be completely done. ‹ WORDS › 729/729. ‹ TAG › Capsule ‹ NOTES › <3 ‹ MUSIC › heavy.

MADE BY VEL OF GS

[Capsule]

[attr="class","solcap"]

"Honey, I'm home," Capsule called out as she entered the home. "Oh, right. I'm not married…" This was going to become a habit, wasn’t it? And Mute may or may not be home, too. Making a mental note to whisper the latter part in the future, the redhead shuffled down the steps.

Although it was technically the top floor, Capsule treated it like the second. The kitchen, living, etc., were all up here. Below was their library and bedroom. It would feel strange to have your private quarters right outside of the front door, and in a place like this… Sure, it was a housing district, and it was implied to be safe. But you never knew what would or could happen, which is why she had taken the precaution of having a secret tunnel down on the bottom floor. Her goat servants lurked around the premises as well, so if anything went wrong, they could protect Mute and deal with any intruders if she was away.

The servant designated Meino greeted her while she was in the midst of descending the spiral staircase to the bottom floor. Mute was a scholar and avid reader; the library would naturally be the best way to find her. The goat bowed and inclined his head to the side after righting himself. His great horned head was pointing at the kitchen. «Oh, in the kitchen, is she?» Well, she was a Chef…

Capsule tentatively sniffed at the air, and was almost immediately met with the scent of something delicious. That sweet, but musty smell, familiar and yet not at the same time. It vaguely reminded her of home, of her mother, a woman who held no fancy degree but could cook you a meal as good as any certified chef. 'Beer simmered brats?' Her eyes were alight with hope and curiosity. Brats topped with sauerkraut, please! And with a cool beverage on the side, like beer or even wine. Capsule was not much of a drinker, but when she did, there was typically bratwurst involved.

After dismissing Meino, she followed her nose to the kitchen. The smell was stronger here, but could not compare to the sight of her beloved hard at work. A Scot making German cuisine? Capsule was thrilled and relieved. She was not yet prepared to sample haggis. But she was prepared to give surprise hugs from the rear --

A bead of sweat rolled down the back of the redhead's neck. Mute seemed to have had a uh… growth spurt. The previous height difference between the two of them was only three inches, but now the gap was widened to four, and Capsule was the shorter of the two. Then again, it did give her a bit of an advantage. 'Heh heh heh...' Perfect height to bury her face in -ahem.

Arms outstretched and fingers twitching like a lecher, Capsule silently approached Mute from the rear. She had to be careful not to startle the girl too much. It would not do at all to ruin a good meal, especially when she was so eager to sample Mute's cooking. Capsule encircled her arms around Mute's slender waist, and propped her chin against the Heretic's shoulder. "Evening, love." She gave her an affectionate nuzzle, before peeking into the pan. Her nose had not lied; there were plump sausages on the menu tonight. "It smells good. I bet it would taste even better with a nice lager on the side." She lightly increased her hold on Mute.

It would be a first for her, but Capsule could mix drinks for them. Having a high crafting level should nullify any mistakes she might make. Had she known in advance that Mute would be making dinner, however, she would have planned ahead and bought some. Why go through all of the work herself, when she could pay someone else to do it for her? "I could mix something up, if you would like. I am sure I can make a few cocktails, at least…" They certainly had plenty of fruit.

[newclass=.babar]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 175px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","babar"]

[newclass=.babar]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 175px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","babar"]

∝: 677
♫: Swimming Pool
✏: ---
@: Mute

[newclass=.solcap ::-webkit-scrollbar]height:5px;width:10px;background-color:#2c2c2c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.solcap ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color:#211f20;border-left:1px solid #211f20;border-top:1px solid #211f20;border-bottom:1px solid #211f20;[/newclass]

[Mute]

TELL ME THE REALITY IS BETTER THAN THE DREAM Preparations were almost done as the brats were glazed in the congealed sauce. Without a second thought, she transferred the sausage to a different platter to keep it warm, but not continuing to cook it. After all, it was done, and she had no intention of overcooking the brats. Cuisine, for the most part, was a combination of skill, art, and timing. Mute believed the last element to be the most integral part of the practice. She was just starting to cook and stir the sauerkraut in the previous skillet the brats were in. In doing so, she would be able to mix the residual sauce into the sauerkraut while cooking the final ingredient to her craft. This would take a little while, about five to eight minutes. Some of the heat may escape the bratwurst, but she was confident the sauerkraut would seep into them any heat that they lost while the conclusive ingredient was cooking. At first when she decided to be a chef, she had her worries. Well. At least when she met Capsule she started to have her worries. If humans were humanoid flesh bags filled with entrails and sin, heretics were much of the same, except more sin, and more miasma. Would her cooking inherit the miasmic blight? She didn’t ever want to plague her lover with such an ailment, which made her hesitant at first. But, with further investigation, she eventually realized that all she needed to do was keep her corruption levels in check, and she shouldn’t run the risk of eroding her partner’s conscience. Before she could produce another depraved thought, she felt a light pressure enveloping her waist. While she was visibly surprised, her body tensing up for but a moment, the familiarity quickly rehabilitated her composure, preventing her from spilling the sauerkraut she was still mixing. The culprit for the deed was nobody other than Capsule, her dearest and most welcomed company. She was a little sad she couldn’t surprise her with the whole meal when she came home, but being about three to five minutes from completion wasn’t too bad. And it allowed a window of opportunity for potential revisions or additions to the meal. The butterflies were mad and running rampant in her stomach as she pondered if the meal would live up to her girlfriend’s expectations—for it was still in truth a foreigner cooking a native a, well, native meal. “Good evening, dearest,” With there being no distinction in the voice she was hearing, it wasn’t surprising that she had yet to take note of the changes. Incurring praise for the meal’s aroma, she beamed a smile. “I bet it would. Good thing I didn’t kill or cook no rabbit, because now we can have even more hops.” Because, why not throw in a beer pun while she was at it? On the brightside, and also on the downside, was she wasn’t quite a heavyweight when it came to alcohol consumption. As a former shut-in, it would be to nobody’s surprise that her exposure to alcohol was limited. If in the future she would be challenged to some form of drinking game, she feared her lack of tenacity would be disclosed. When she felt more strength endow the hold, she leaned back slightly to dip herself deeper into the embrace. Her body was filled with a tingly warmth from head to toe. She would have turned around, but the position, and reluctance to writhe out of the hold, deterred her. Instead, she fixated her concentration half on mixing, and half on being the utmost best teddy bear she could be. Opened up by Capsule’s presence, she nodded in agreement to Capsule attempting to mix some drinks, and hummed in response, “Hey bartender, pour’em hot tonight.~” ‹ WORDS › 628/1357. ‹ TAG › Capsule ‹ NOTES › -- ‹ MUSIC › swimming pools.

MADE BY VEL OF GS

[Capsule]

[attr="class","solcap"]

It took Capsule but a moment to pick up the pun, and she rather wished she had not. She was no fan of them; her father was the sort who could only use them to convey humorous anecdotes which were… not all that funny. They were horrible dad jokes of the German variety. Hidden out of direct sight from Mute, Capsule was free to adapt her typical deadpanned expression, reserved for moments such as these. Thankfully the two of them were still in that early stage of their relationship, where unforgivable moments like these could be overlooked.

Still, she could not resist burying her face into the other girl's back, further masking the exasperation willing to escape in a sigh of disapproval. When she pulled her head free, she also removed her arms. "I got a recipe I found while browsing the market a while ago. The inventor claimed you could barely taste the alcohol in it." That was a dangerous idea, in on of itself. Capsule could think of several things that could go wrong with such a beverage, especially if drunk around the unsavory and opportunistic. It would be fine for them, however, as they could trust each other.

Capsule slipped away from Mute, shoulders drooping under the pressure of her own reluctance. It was only a temporary separation, but already she could feel the added warmth slowly fading away, being replaced with a slight chill. She looked forward to sitting down and enjoying the meal with her beloved. Good food, drink, and company… what else could a girl ask for?

She hurried about the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of water, a stirring spoon, a small knife, sugar, and two glasses. Capsule was careful to stay on the fringes of Mute's peripheral vision. She was not quite ready for the big reveal, and did not wish to delay the meal. Sides, it might even be a great conversation piece! …or a really awkward encounter, who knows? Certainly not Capsule, who was seated at the table, back facing Mute. She was all too aware of how short her legs now were, and had to strain to place her feet flat on the ground. Tall chairs had seemed like a smashing idea.

Cursing silently under her breath, Capsule braced one arm against the table, and leaned forward to snatch at the fruit bowl set in the center of the table. Why were things in her home so much farther away or taller now? She even had to use a stool, just to reach things she could effortlessly grab with ease before. And now, the lemons were mocking her… Success! Her fingertips brushed against one large, brutish lemon, and with further flicking, she was able to dislodge it.

It was by this same method that she freed several smaller lemons, as well as a handful of whitebark raspberries. The raspberries were blue in color, and much needed to provide the color and embellish the taste of the lemonade. Blue raspberry vodka was an incredibly simple recipe, so much so that it barely warranted being called such. Any twit could make lemonade. All you needed were lemons, water, and sugar. How could she possibly screw that up?

With her knife, Capsule neatly sliced the lemons in half, and squeezed them of their juices into the pitcher. The fresh mountain water was reduced to a light murky color, and soon found its bottom filled with the emptied husks. Capsule believed it was important to allow the lemon halves to soak in the water, for full flavor. The raspberries, on the other hand… These she scattered around in her mortar and pestle, and began to mash until they were little more than liquid and flesh. With the utmost care, Capsule poured and stirred in the fresh nectar, watching with delight as the cloudy yellow converted into a powder blue. With the sugar added, the color ended up being subdued. The effect was not as strong as she would have preferred, but it was damn near close enough.

"Almost done, love." Now all there was left to do was to add the vodka into the mix. Capsule was unsure of how either would taste, but hopefully the lemonade would be sweet enough to cover up the bitter taste of alcohol.

[newclass=.babar]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 175px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","babar"]

[newclass=.babar]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 175px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","babar"]

∝: 721
♫: Crystalised
✏: Not quite hot <x<
@: Mute

[newclass=.solcap ::-webkit-scrollbar]height:5px;width:10px;background-color:#2c2c2c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.solcap ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color:#211f20;border-left:1px solid #211f20;border-top:1px solid #211f20;border-bottom:1px solid #211f20;[/newclass]

[Mute]

負けないで一輪の花 Make naide ichirin no hana Probably atypical for someone of her class, Mute had a soft spot for lame jokes. It wasn’t the quality of the joke she enjoyed the most—it was how bad the joke was that made it so enjoyable. People either hated them or loved them, and it was interesting to see the reaction, which usually contributed to about half of the joke itself. In this case, she couldn’t see the reaction, which was a little saddening. However, judging from the silence that ensued, or rather judging from the lack of mention of the joke, she guessed she earned the reaction she was seeking. As a result, a coy grin spread across her lips, which looked additionally mischievous thanks to contributions from her insidious red eyes; due to the angle, her face too was hidden from direct sight. To a degree, feeling Capsule bury her face into her back alleviated some of the melancholy from being liberated from her lover’s grasp. She would have been devastated if her shoddy attempt at humour contributed to early severance. Hearing their fated drink would minimize the taste of alcohol thanks to the prudence of the inventor lifted her spirits even more. Minimal taste for maximum results sounded great to her. Normally, she would have huge qualms with deliberately destroying her inhibitions. But, she felt—no, she was positive that she was in good hands if she ended up consuming enough to result in the erosion of, well, rationality. Ultimately, she felt incredibly chill about it right now. “Jackpot, eh? I can’t wait to try it.” And end up being in your care for the rest of the day because of it, she would have liked to add, but she figured it’d be too telling. Besides, that would be assuming her partner would be able to hold her bearings as well... While Capsule started on her own devices, she continued mixing the final ingredient—the sauerkraut. As she had been stirring it a good while now, and it cooked nicely, it was time for her to finalize the brats. The final touch was simple: she transferred the sauerkraut to a serving platter and topped it with the steaming, cooked bratwurst. The ensuing aroma was powerful and delightfully overwhelming, which allowed some of her insecurities to subside, but definitely not all of them. After all, it was rare for a creator to be content with any of their own creations. Thus, it was for others to judge, unless the creator was a megalomaniac or narcissist. Finally, she fixed her gaze on Capsule, who was preparing the drinks. “Well, the brats are—” But, the moment she fixed her eyes on her, it became difficult to peel her gaze from her. No matter how many white locks were traded for red, she always would be able to tell it was Capsule. After all, she loved her to such an extent she could practically feel it was her regardless of the distinctios. But, surprisingly, something different contributed to her surprise, other than the epiphany she was the taller one—she was, for lack of a better word, enchanted by the enchanter. A heated blush dominated her cheeks. As she watched her work, she was mesmerized. Thoughts and speech were impossible when her mind was bloated to maximum capacity with feelings of wild affection, simply stunned by her lovely presence. There she stood, moribund, frozen aside from her heart beating enthusiastically, wishing she could preserve these moments indefinitely in stasis. Nothing changed, it should not be misconstrued that she is a superficial person, what founded such intense feelings was being permitted this clarity at all. Recovering her composure, she sauntered closer to Capsule. She didn’t want to startle her and ruin the drinks, so she was slow when she mirrored her lover’s movements and wrapped her arms around her from behind, locking them around her waist. She was aware it would be encumbering and maybe delay the drinks a little, but, she was feeling overzealous with her intimate ambition. Resting her chin on her shoulder and brushing her face lightly against her hair, she spoke, without even really detailing what was fuelling her explosive love. “I love you, I know I say that a lot,” saying that, as always, caused her heart to skip a beat, making her wonder if she was going to suffer heart problems in the future from the wealth of moments like these. As she spoke, she withdrew one arm to pry off the scarlet scarf around her neck, and lightly laced it around Capsule’s. “So, lemme do something extra. I wanna give you two things. This, so a part of me is always with you regardless of where you go. And something only for you,” She glanced to the side, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Skylar Abrams. T-that’s my real name, so—it’d feel more right if you called me that when we’re like this, or just Skye, like the island…” ‹ WORDS › 828/2185. ‹ TAG › Capsule ‹ NOTES › -- ‹ MUSIC › once we were angels.

MADE BY VEL OF GS

[Capsule]

[attr="class","solcap"]

From her inventory, Capsule retrieved a tall bottle of forty percent vodka from her inventory. Not knowing how alcohol worked, Capsule assumed that the dosage was actually not too much. To her, it was watered down, and would be even more so once it was mixed with the lemonade. It made alcohol seem less dangerous somehow. Of course, she might regret thinking so later. Without anyone else around and capable, Capsule was often forced to learn things the hard way, through hands on experience.

Capsule neatly lined the glasses up, and with her hand she made a rough measurement. Should she go half and half with the lemonade and vodka, or water it down some? Which was appropriate? "Hrm..." Dumping half of the bottle into the pitcher did not seem too wise, either. Oh, shitsnacks. How much should she add?! A tiny bead of sweat formed at the nape of her neck. The recipe only listed the ingredients, but not the amount of alcohol she should use. The other stuff was easy, but did the Brewer assume that others would use their own discretion?

Before her, the glasses and pitcher grew larger, distorting around the edges. They shot high into the air, stopping short of hitting the ceiling. The air around her vibrated, and for a moment she thought the inanimate objects were laughing at her. Her hands itched for a sawed off shot gun or chainsaw to forcibly shut the deadites up-- "Ne?" Something, or someone was approaching her from the rear.

Like a rabbit or deer caught in the headlights, Capsule froze as a pair of arms secured themselves around her waist. She was trapped in her seat, though found she did not mind at all. The person holding onto her was Mute, who was reversing their roles. The tension in her body gradually relaxed as Mute made herself comfortable, mimicking the redhead's prior motions. She lowered a hand to rest against one of the arms intersecting at her waist. And, as tempting as it was, she resisted the desire to glance back into those lovely red eyes.

In hindsight, it was for the best. When Mute spoke, Capsule felt the familiar fluttering in her gut return. It was softer, now that she had grown accustomed to it, but as warm as eve. The tips of her ears burned red, as did the rest of her freckled face. Mute was being cute again. It left Capsule with an odd mixture of embarrassed endearment, though she had no objections to prolonging it. It was moments like these where she felt full of life. To Capsule, pleasant moments had to be preserved and respected.

"O-oh, are you sure? I don’t know if I have anything of equal value," she muttered into the gifted scarf. A daily reminder of Mute… she would cherish it forever. 'Ah.' Skylar… What could be more intimate than the exchange of names? They carried great power, and in a world where everyone had an alias and most refused to divulge otherwise, it was highly touching. "Thank you, Skye."

Capsule squirmed around in her seat to plant a kiss on Mute's cheek, and while she had her attention… "Meike. Meike Pfeiffer," she whispered into her ear.

[newclass=.babar]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 175px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","babar"]

[newclass=.babar]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 175px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","babar"]

∝: 539
♫: Art Deco
✏: ---
@: Mute

[newclass=.solcap ::-webkit-scrollbar]height:5px;width:10px;background-color:#2c2c2c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.solcap ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color:#211f20;border-left:1px solid #211f20;border-top:1px solid #211f20;border-bottom:1px solid #211f20;[/newclass]

[Mute]

負けないで一輪の花 Make naide ichirin no hana Capsule’s modesty always perpetuated the smile gracing Mute’s lips. While the heretic was never one known for her altruism in real life, she found herself making numerous exceptions whenever she was around Capsule. She wanted her lover to have something from her to remind her of her each passing day, because it was like, in a way, being there with her no matter the distance that separated them. Over the last little while, she was learning to be considerably more overt with how she felt. A craving swelled within her, a desire to relive the sheer output of love they produced when they first met, the Romeo and Juliet situation she thought was only reserved for fiction. She could hardly remember the last time she was called Skye, something that seemed like a relic of the past. Even before she drank any alcohol, she was feeling invasive warmth permeate through her body the moment she heard Capsule call her by her real name. There was intimacy in it, and it endeared her colossally, because it really did feel like with that simple action they transcended an unofficial, but real, boundary. Although pleasant, she thought it was so strange to finally be part of something like it. Her parents weren’t the sentimental type, and the most she heard about these rituals were her “friends’” banter about their supposed girlfriends over voice chats prior to being siphoned into the game. Something that she originally felt scorn towards, she found herself interpreting as precious. Her partner surely would be able to feel the palpable heat emanating from Mute’s cheek when planting a kiss upon one, for to say she was blushing was an understatement. She usually had meticulous control over her emotions, hence her name “Mute” and the social negligence and silence it implied, but she disposed of barriers like that when around Capsule, and consequentially ended up at her mercy. She could not deny the lack of nativity of this overwhelming feeling within her, but it was certainly making itself at home. And then she heard it—Meike… the sound of it alone sufficed to accelerate her heartbeat, as she lightly combed her fingers through Capsule’s hair. “And thank you, Meike. It’s such a beautiful name, y’know…” She rested her head upon Capsule’s shoulder, letting her body language and rampant heartbeat communicate for her. “You really mean everything to me.” ‹ WORDS › 400/2585. ‹ TAG › Capsule ‹ NOTES › -- ‹ MUSIC › --

MADE BY VEL OF GS