Post by Lyra Ishigami on Oct 8, 2013 4:49:12 GMT -5
OOC: Won't someone come and enjoy a nice cup of espresso with Lyra? Also, OMGEE! I started a thread! Yay me~
"Un caffe per una bella signora?" The barista smiled as the bell attached to the door frame rang to announce the entrance of another customer. She was pretty, though slightly out of place with her blonde hair reflecting the sunlight and light complexion: a tourist, probably American. The woman, dressed in a somewhat form fitting pink mini dress with a broad pastel green stripe running down the length of her left side. The man winked as she took off her sunglasses and placed them atop her head, pushing back her thin golden fringes. She ran a finger through some loose strands of hair, pushing them back behind her ear. She looked like she was just about ready to head on a night out, stopping for a quick afternoon caffeine fix before a long night of bar crawling and club hopping.
"An Americano, with milk and sugar, thanks."
The barista grimaced at the order, but quickly hid it with a smile, she was pretty, had an ample bosom, and was American. The chances of him "hooking up" with her after work was high enough that he could look the other way on something as trivial as the shameless defilement of his country's proud history of coffee and the centuries of tradition that was associated with the beverage. "Of course, signora!" His deep voice was only made more attractive with his accent.
What was it about his accent that made him so much more attractive? Perhaps the way his tongue danced behind his teeth as he was enunciating each word? Was that it? A prelude to his oral prowess? His lips pressed firmly against hers, catching every drop of her nectar as he made her explode with ecstasy. The woman looked a little flush, as she walked up closer to the bar, putting her elbows on the counter as she leaned forward, allowing him to gaze directly into her dress. Her dress was too tight to reveal all of her, but that merely added to the intrigue.
"You are splendido! Signora." Stunning!. The charismatic way the words just rolled off his tongue was very well practiced indeed. His little coffee shop was near the centre for Rome, a fun place for the whole family during the day; quickly turning into the a rowdy street full of the night life when the sun set. It was all too often for him to see American girls dressed like her in his shop, and throughout the years, he's gotten pretty good at coaxing them to stay the night with him. He gets to have a good time, they get a tour of the town from a local, win-win.
Before he could continue using that oh so skillful tongue of his, the bell at his door rang once more. "Buonasera!" Good evening! He looked up, expecting another guest, but was greeted with something completely unexpected.
The bell rang, his door was open, but where was the customer? He looked around, scratching his head. Uno scherzo? A joke? Still confused, he looked at the woman, to make sure he wasn't the only one that's gone insane. The woman in pink gave him the same confused look. "What's going on?"
Before she was able to speak another word, a rather large gap opened up in the middle of her neck. Blood from her throat poured all over her perky pink dress, quickly staining the fabric an deep crimson. The barista was in shock, stunned, unable to move from what had just happened in front of him: a woman being decapitated seemingly spontaneously? Sure, Rome was a city full of ancient myths and legends about demons and devils, but that's all they were, weren't they? Just stories. But what was happening in front of his eyes was all much too real, the warmth of the blood being splattered onto his face, the noise it made when her severed head hit his just mopped floor.
Lyra stood behind the girl in the pink, Muramasa hacking away at the collapsing woman until she was no longer recognizable. With a firm thrust, she dug the tip of her blade into the woman's chest, just above her dress.With her free hand, she unzipped the stained dress, then removed it from her. Carefully, she stepped into it, zipping up the back as she moved around to make it fit just right. The hips fit nicely, waist just fine, but the bust, however, had slightly more room than necessary. Americans.... She looked a the body, now falling over some tables with a slight bit of jealousy. Ripping her katana out of the body, she gave it a couple more slashes, dismembering the corpse — who was she to have the prefect figure for this dress?!
He stood, shaking behind the counter, as the only thing he could see was the dress, floating in front of him. He was about to run, but was stopped by a sugar dispenser zipping by mere centimetres from his head. It broke on the wall behind him, sending shards of broken glass everywhere, including his direction. Naturally, he flinched. "N...non farti male!" D...don't hurt me! He clenched his head and shook with fear as the dress approached him.
She wiped her finger across her chest, picking up the crimson liquid which had drenched the fabric, and placed it on the counter.
Words began appearing on the counter slowly. "U...un" He read along as each letter took shape, watching the strokes and curves form into a legible request: "Un cappuccino per favore?" The "i" was even dotted with a heart. How could he refuse? He shook as he stepped over to the machine, pressing the buttons to start up the machine. The large hopper full of roasted beans began moving around, allowing just enough to fall into the grinder. A loud buzzing noise was emitted, indicating that the grinding had begun, the large mill within the machine pulverizing each bean to a carefully measured thickness, all in the pursuit of producing the finest shot of espresso. Steam began flowing from the nozzles, followed by a thick black liquid, slowly dripping into a rather large cup. As the liquid slowed to a stop, the substance coming out became a frothy, almost orange flow of bubbles — a perfect layer of crema on top of a perfectly pulled shot. Next was the milk. He lifted the steam nozzle and placed it carefully in his stainless steel measuring cup. A loud fizzing noise was produced as he opened the valve, allowing steam to rapidly escape, elevating the temperature of the milk quickly, producing a nice layer of foamy bubbles. Despite his shaking hands, years and years of practice meant that he was still able to pour the perfect cup of cappuccino. With both mug cupped in both hands, he placed it on the counter in front of him.
She stared at the cup of steaming hot liquid that was just placed in front of her. Before she even leaned in, the aroma had already hit her nose, sending the thick bold scent of espresso mixed with light creamy milk up her nostrils. She took the mug within her hands and brought it up to her lips. She tilted the cup to her lips, allowing the already cooling foam to reach her first, then the warmth of the liquid bathed her palate, drowning her in a sea of perfectly roasted coffee, complimented by the rich creaminess of fresh milk. She enjoyed her a long sip before placing the mug back onto the counter. The remnants of the top layer left a rather large trail on her upper lip, giving her a foamy milk mustache.
He stared at the floating dress with a mustache made of foam. Before he could realize, the entire room began to spin, then faded slowly to black as he heard a thump — the sound of his skull hitting the ground.
The arrancar stepped outside the bloody mess of a cafe, with mug in hand. As the door shut behind her, the sign swung itself to display the word "Chiuso" Closed. She took a seat just in front of the window, beneath the splash of blood that had stained its inside. Her tongue moved from one side of her lips to the other, scraping off what remained of the foam which laid across her lips.
Molto delizioso
"Un caffe per una bella signora?" The barista smiled as the bell attached to the door frame rang to announce the entrance of another customer. She was pretty, though slightly out of place with her blonde hair reflecting the sunlight and light complexion: a tourist, probably American. The woman, dressed in a somewhat form fitting pink mini dress with a broad pastel green stripe running down the length of her left side. The man winked as she took off her sunglasses and placed them atop her head, pushing back her thin golden fringes. She ran a finger through some loose strands of hair, pushing them back behind her ear. She looked like she was just about ready to head on a night out, stopping for a quick afternoon caffeine fix before a long night of bar crawling and club hopping.
"An Americano, with milk and sugar, thanks."
The barista grimaced at the order, but quickly hid it with a smile, she was pretty, had an ample bosom, and was American. The chances of him "hooking up" with her after work was high enough that he could look the other way on something as trivial as the shameless defilement of his country's proud history of coffee and the centuries of tradition that was associated with the beverage. "Of course, signora!" His deep voice was only made more attractive with his accent.
What was it about his accent that made him so much more attractive? Perhaps the way his tongue danced behind his teeth as he was enunciating each word? Was that it? A prelude to his oral prowess? His lips pressed firmly against hers, catching every drop of her nectar as he made her explode with ecstasy. The woman looked a little flush, as she walked up closer to the bar, putting her elbows on the counter as she leaned forward, allowing him to gaze directly into her dress. Her dress was too tight to reveal all of her, but that merely added to the intrigue.
"You are splendido! Signora." Stunning!. The charismatic way the words just rolled off his tongue was very well practiced indeed. His little coffee shop was near the centre for Rome, a fun place for the whole family during the day; quickly turning into the a rowdy street full of the night life when the sun set. It was all too often for him to see American girls dressed like her in his shop, and throughout the years, he's gotten pretty good at coaxing them to stay the night with him. He gets to have a good time, they get a tour of the town from a local, win-win.
Before he could continue using that oh so skillful tongue of his, the bell at his door rang once more. "Buonasera!" Good evening! He looked up, expecting another guest, but was greeted with something completely unexpected.
The bell rang, his door was open, but where was the customer? He looked around, scratching his head. Uno scherzo? A joke? Still confused, he looked at the woman, to make sure he wasn't the only one that's gone insane. The woman in pink gave him the same confused look. "What's going on?"
Before she was able to speak another word, a rather large gap opened up in the middle of her neck. Blood from her throat poured all over her perky pink dress, quickly staining the fabric an deep crimson. The barista was in shock, stunned, unable to move from what had just happened in front of him: a woman being decapitated seemingly spontaneously? Sure, Rome was a city full of ancient myths and legends about demons and devils, but that's all they were, weren't they? Just stories. But what was happening in front of his eyes was all much too real, the warmth of the blood being splattered onto his face, the noise it made when her severed head hit his just mopped floor.
Lyra stood behind the girl in the pink, Muramasa hacking away at the collapsing woman until she was no longer recognizable. With a firm thrust, she dug the tip of her blade into the woman's chest, just above her dress.With her free hand, she unzipped the stained dress, then removed it from her. Carefully, she stepped into it, zipping up the back as she moved around to make it fit just right. The hips fit nicely, waist just fine, but the bust, however, had slightly more room than necessary. Americans.... She looked a the body, now falling over some tables with a slight bit of jealousy. Ripping her katana out of the body, she gave it a couple more slashes, dismembering the corpse — who was she to have the prefect figure for this dress?!
He stood, shaking behind the counter, as the only thing he could see was the dress, floating in front of him. He was about to run, but was stopped by a sugar dispenser zipping by mere centimetres from his head. It broke on the wall behind him, sending shards of broken glass everywhere, including his direction. Naturally, he flinched. "N...non farti male!" D...don't hurt me! He clenched his head and shook with fear as the dress approached him.
She wiped her finger across her chest, picking up the crimson liquid which had drenched the fabric, and placed it on the counter.
Words began appearing on the counter slowly. "U...un" He read along as each letter took shape, watching the strokes and curves form into a legible request: "Un cappuccino per favore?" The "i" was even dotted with a heart. How could he refuse? He shook as he stepped over to the machine, pressing the buttons to start up the machine. The large hopper full of roasted beans began moving around, allowing just enough to fall into the grinder. A loud buzzing noise was emitted, indicating that the grinding had begun, the large mill within the machine pulverizing each bean to a carefully measured thickness, all in the pursuit of producing the finest shot of espresso. Steam began flowing from the nozzles, followed by a thick black liquid, slowly dripping into a rather large cup. As the liquid slowed to a stop, the substance coming out became a frothy, almost orange flow of bubbles — a perfect layer of crema on top of a perfectly pulled shot. Next was the milk. He lifted the steam nozzle and placed it carefully in his stainless steel measuring cup. A loud fizzing noise was produced as he opened the valve, allowing steam to rapidly escape, elevating the temperature of the milk quickly, producing a nice layer of foamy bubbles. Despite his shaking hands, years and years of practice meant that he was still able to pour the perfect cup of cappuccino. With both mug cupped in both hands, he placed it on the counter in front of him.
She stared at the cup of steaming hot liquid that was just placed in front of her. Before she even leaned in, the aroma had already hit her nose, sending the thick bold scent of espresso mixed with light creamy milk up her nostrils. She took the mug within her hands and brought it up to her lips. She tilted the cup to her lips, allowing the already cooling foam to reach her first, then the warmth of the liquid bathed her palate, drowning her in a sea of perfectly roasted coffee, complimented by the rich creaminess of fresh milk. She enjoyed her a long sip before placing the mug back onto the counter. The remnants of the top layer left a rather large trail on her upper lip, giving her a foamy milk mustache.
He stared at the floating dress with a mustache made of foam. Before he could realize, the entire room began to spin, then faded slowly to black as he heard a thump — the sound of his skull hitting the ground.
The arrancar stepped outside the bloody mess of a cafe, with mug in hand. As the door shut behind her, the sign swung itself to display the word "Chiuso" Closed. She took a seat just in front of the window, beneath the splash of blood that had stained its inside. Her tongue moved from one side of her lips to the other, scraping off what remained of the foam which laid across her lips.
Molto delizioso
