11 June 2012
That boy Erutàron strolls, to Ondine seems a troll.
Haven't eaten in a week, seeing her feet appearing under the spangles, feel like a crime chewing on a bunch of mosses.
Tries to confront herself saying her tail won't pop up after just a few bites in the restaurant with Erutàron, and that her belly would not broaden from the sides.
The smell is truffled risotto is quite alright; but can't he take the pressure more than his trousers skin-tight?
Says Ondine once they're home: 'I don't have the cocoa, I can bake you blondies, but will you lend me your wings.. ? I'm in a battle of my own, may not have the might, deliver your slice straight up'
'Mosses aren't satisfying, but I can't eat more now, after the cheese&wine scale won't be forgiving'
'Will you hold my hand, tell me you love me again when all our wine is drained?'
'My baked goods, supposed to be aphrodisiacal, but will you love me enough, enough to buy me pretty things, is that possible?'
Brittle Fringale(fat is a kitchen tool, not a body fuel)/Ondine • Opuss № I