Ne~ah~
[When the fruit falls and splatters, it brings about a stinking, decayed smell. Rot. Something going sour, something going bad. Foul.
Her form is her choice, she'll do with it as she pleases. Even if she didn't fully choose this one; even if it is still far too vulnerable. Even here, where it shouldn't be. --
She knows that tone, all too well. With his back turned, he can't see the way her knuckles are turning white from clenching her fists until fingernails cut into her palms and send blood trickling down her wrists. It's a tone she... never thought she'd hear directed at her. Not like this.
Never without him. And he knows it.
Her fingers clench tighter, sending her nails deeper into her palms and staining her dress when he turns, but her face remains completely motionless.]
Who is Adam, if he can't remain loyal to Eve~?
The wind whips again, bringing with it, this time, the sound of bells - particularly that of the sort of bells found around on a jester's cowl, or perhaps tied around his ankles.]
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