Kedrick had managed to escape into monetary matters again by the time his nymph came. The dome glistened where she balanced it as she walked, but it was the clothes she'd chosen that made him discard and forget his device immediately. In the beginning, when there was still a large room between them, he felt upset, but when she came closer, with her own proportions though incidentally close to Naella's, he at least took refuge in the large eyes and her own physical design. She must not conjure the image, but he soon remembered there were very few options for her in this house, sartorially, if she didn't want a uniform.<br/><br/>He wanted to swaddle her in his arms again, pretty female with sister's shirt and skirt, when she confessed to her gastronomical shortcomings. She could feel some freeze in his blood then, mortification and regret. She was beautiful, petitioning for more knowledge, and underlined his impossible demand. He wished he would have known the nature of their connections better. It seemed it was not just a transference of know-how. "I'll speak with the chef." he promised and reached for her.<br/><br/>He couldn't have the contact he wanted before she opened what she'd made. Kedrick gasped and took that hand to his own mouth instead. Did she mean for him to eat this? It was strange, how it had the appeal of something infinately fresh, recently plucked, but also the sheen and the visual compositon of a savory morsel. He swallowed, held in place by the lights that came off it, and that couldn't reach some of its shadows. Why was his tongue drowning in his mouth? It was appalling wasn't it, that she'd break herself like this. His finger trailed along the blade of a petal, and it ushered new blood into him - and it made his throat famished.<br/><br/>When he turned to ask her - what to do, what to feel - there were echoes of self-torture in her cadence. It made him feel guilty and delighted, to have something so bespoke. She promised sweetness, and he was going to protest, like a good man would, but instead touched his knuckle to lift a note curving outward like it come alive and move for him on the plate. When he let go, the petal contracted slightly to acknowledge his touch before it seemed to elongate to have more. His jaw trembled as he looked Iris over again, what delicious abomination have you made, and then he lowered his thumb into the bled out sap on the ivory porcelain.<br/><br/>It was sweet, like she promised, but the scents that spread were intimate, feeding other needs as well. Having it off his thumb made it lewd, of course, and next time he used the four other fingers, rolling their prints in her sap. He groaned, quiet, sucking his nails. "Iris." but he was looking at half his face reflected on the puddle beneath the meat of the dish. It was her.<br/><br/>Quickly he pinched the center of it with some pressure, and tugged a sensual, thin tongue off its circular formation. It turned into hyphae against his teeth, and pressed it breadth on his taste buds. It dissolved like star-stones in atmosphere going down his throat. This kind of thing was sacrilegious, addictive. He turned to his nymph and grabbed the sleeve of his sister's shirt to pull her closer. It was a ginger gesture, but he wasn't about to let her go if she struggled. His hand in her hair, to tip her forehead up, so his mouth could come down to push at a bud to force it's outer, protective blades open, so the spear of his muscle could mash and mangle the unfinished flower inside, crushing it for its young juice.<br/><br/>"What..." he tried, confused with his tongue still out, massaging that wrinkled note. "how can you be so..." He was confused by all these drawing sensations, like she was a festival of all his weaknesses. His face was at her throat to seek refuge from the calls, but it was worse there. Before he could asked more questions he'd sunk his teeth into her, beside her throat.