[They rushed. No more counting to twenty, not when there's someone coming who could rip the leaves right out of their hands.
It wasn't the best idea they've ever had. These are easily some of the worst-tasting things they've ever put in their face. Worse than buttercups, maybe. The longer it sits in their mouth, the longer they have to taste it, and the longer saliva floods their mouth to a ridiculous degree. Their fingers are starting to itch a bit from picking the flowers already. They'll be all dry and scaly and nasty later, probably. Just another way this isn't a romantic or beautiful way to go at all, huh. Death by daffodil itch.
They know it takes a while to digest. To start getting symptoms. But they're pretty sure they're gonna hork, just based on taste alone. Maybe their body remembers, even if it's an entirely different species of flora.
Chara wishes they could say they stayed smiling and placid the whole time, but the look on their face as they force one last mouthful of leaves down is more of a scrunched-up, disgusted grimace.
See? Not cute at all.]
Forgot to count. The flowers are still there. Guess you could, if you want! Mind the stems, they'll give you an allergic reaction on your skin.
[The joviality in their voice is strained. They don't make it for very long before they have to go for the thermos, try to wash that taste out of their system, try to convince themselves the ginger is helping.]
action, suicide cw from here on hhhha ha
It wasn't the best idea they've ever had. These are easily some of the worst-tasting things they've ever put in their face. Worse than buttercups, maybe. The longer it sits in their mouth, the longer they have to taste it, and the longer saliva floods their mouth to a ridiculous degree. Their fingers are starting to itch a bit from picking the flowers already. They'll be all dry and scaly and nasty later, probably. Just another way this isn't a romantic or beautiful way to go at all, huh. Death by daffodil itch.
They know it takes a while to digest. To start getting symptoms. But they're pretty sure they're gonna hork, just based on taste alone. Maybe their body remembers, even if it's an entirely different species of flora.
Chara wishes they could say they stayed smiling and placid the whole time, but the look on their face as they force one last mouthful of leaves down is more of a scrunched-up, disgusted grimace.
See? Not cute at all.]
Forgot to count. The flowers are still there. Guess you could, if you want! Mind the stems, they'll give you an allergic reaction on your skin.
[The joviality in their voice is strained. They don't make it for very long before they have to go for the thermos, try to wash that taste out of their system, try to convince themselves the ginger is helping.]