Happy Meal [Zaffran]

No sooner had Estelle heard the door, would she discover herself host to a rather unexpected visitor – unceremoniously plopped across the booth by whom she could only assume to be their caretaker. She wasn’t sure how to feel about company, the remark to her isolation, nor the theft of her last taco but a moment afterward. A lazy gaze followed the hand that snatched it away, the blond briefly fantasizing what it might look like, were it chopped off. That same crimson followed it to the maw which consumed the rest of her meal, the imagination of this entity reduced to carrion but fleeting. That same lazy gaze drifted momentarily to the small group of other customers about the restaurant, the girl wondering what might happen were she to brutalize, then butcher them all. A small sigh internally, and the feeling soon passed, her patience weighing over passion this time. Estelle regarded this new acquaintance again, the stony expression soon becoming a soft smile as her hands folded neatly before her plate.

The demon was rather animated, if not resourceful, pulling all manner of things from those decorative sleeves. A handkerchief, an oily menu – Estelle almost believed them to be followed by a rope tied of colorful cloths, perhaps a few doves as well. Though there was something about this weeping woman that she couldn’t help but take notice to – a single broken horn atop her crown. It wasn’t a clean cut but any means either, but rather looked as though it had been broken, snapped even. Was it perhaps the source of tears, the last thing she expected to glimpse in those eyes when they met? A glance out the window to the same puddle. Maybe it was something else?

An order was placed, Estelle finding that same kind smile turning into a smirk, closing her eyes with a soft chuckle, before a flamboyant twist of the wrist, upturn of the hand. The girl held in a vice between two fingers enough bills of zeni to cover the cost, offering their manager turned waiter an answer at that. ”Well - you heard my friend here,” paused the quieter girl to meet Zaffran’s gaze. ”The birria is her favorite.” The blond waited in silence until the nervous wreck had wandered from earshot, before she lowered her hand, fingertips gracing Zaffran’s in a less than subtle discouragement of someone pointing in her face.

”Rough day? Feel like sharing at all?”

TWC: (+412) 1,151
6/6 KP 0/6 MP 0/250 HP
Estelle’s PL: 24,000
Antisense: Inactive
Resources: OW Training, Life Leech

It was of little consequence whether the spineless tenant took her payment or not, Estelle was always pleased to welcome a free meal wheresoever, or however, it may present itself. There was a moment before this once beloved prince turned would be drifter shared a silent fixation with the blond’s gaze. Almost akin to one predator looking another in the eye across a small glade in the jungle – a recognition of another, kindred in the hunt, but not so much a threat where hesitation might factor into cutting it down. That’s how Estelle may have felt before Zaffran shooed away the unwanted audience; a leopard in the presence of a lion. The affable charm exuded by this one might have rivalled her own on a better day, warranting a perk of a brow to regards to banter on herself.

Well, who didn’t enjoy talking about themselves?

Estelle for one, as there was very little, she felt was worth sharing with the world. What was to tell? Her bleak and almost placid pool of history paled in comparison to the colorful tale Zaffran sought to weave. The realm itself was an apparent issue – sure it had its own fair share of problems, but the sigh and addition of that last detail really put hammer to nail where Estelle’s perception of how this might’ve played out. There had a been a man. She resisted the temptation to retort with a sly quip, instead choosing to hear out what could have passed for a well written play. The tale seemed quite Shakespearean, wrought with betrayal, despair, and the underlying tones of vengeance vowed. The way the demon spoke of this violator, this charlatan, almost hinted to the blond that Zaffran might have once respected, even admired this other royal at a point in time.

It was all rather vivid imagery, so much that she had barely taken notice to the clattering china of their meals hitting the table. It didn’t escape Estelle’s notice that her plate received less garnishing of sides, but it was beneath her concern compared to Zaffran’s spiel. The story of a horn lost; the demon’s pride and honor may have very well hinged on its return. Those dark feelings and thoughts began to resurface the more she heard. It was not toward her less than gracious host this time, but toward this would-be jester that had brought ruin to whatever life this prince once held. It didn’t escape Estelle’s consideration over this story that she probably had it coming, but there was no denying the repulsion she felt towards this imp of a man. Estelle hated and loathed those who lived in opulence and privilege, who then in turn abused that power against those less fortunate than themselves. She herself, or rather what she was becoming, was no exception to this. So naturally, it was of little wonder what may have escaped her lips, as she absentmindedly played with her food.

”Sounds like a rather nasty bastard, that one.”

The story resumed once she had taken her fill of favorites, yet never once would Zaffran lose the attention or intrigue of the girl who sat across the booth. Estelle tried to recall the animatronic fixated atop the building from memory, having tuned it out so many times during her visits, that she had grown to simply pay it little heed or mind at all. In fact, it wasn’t until the giant beast of a mascot was brought into subject would she remember something about it. So, it wasn’t a fictional design, but a possible effigy to the likeness of this girl’s father? A rather curious thing to take note of. Were it not for her recent venture into the depths of that very home, Estelle might have held a strong disbelief to Zaffran’s claims of belonging there. The quieter of the pair would regard that burning golden stare once more, this time with a half-hearted shrug.

”I used to eat here with a friend.” It was all she would really offer before another glimpse to the whole of the restaurant, to the others that seemed to pay them little mind. Ignorance was blissful to these folks, completely unaware of the perpetuating tragedies in silent memory around them. Estelle almost envied that innocence, the dream they still found themselves in. ”I found comforts and strength within the shadows of the Wall.” That wicked gaze returned to meet the prince. ”Then I yearned for what awaited me beyond it, sought to take back what I believed to be my own.” Another idle till of the fork through seasoned rice. A soft rasp of stainless steel against the plate. ”So I fed those who wronged me to the worms, returned them to the soil.”

TWC: (+792) 1,943
6/6 KP 0/6 MP 0/250 HP
Estelle’s PL: 24,000
Antisense: Inactive
Resources: OW Training, Life Leech