░░ ↲ ۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪ 🧺 # 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏 ! # 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 !
" 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓: 𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 revolves around the creation of another Titan, the subject of this project having to consume the flesh of a T...
PROJECT SIN EATER . . . message two THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN TO HOME
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Loud cheers came from the other train car, muffled out to the sober crowd in their secluded car. . . or at least, the formerly sober car until Dymphna entered the train car wasted with Porco helping her, settling her down near her father.
"Oh. . . sweet pea. . ." "Wow, 'Phna, you really can't handle your alcohol, can you?" Pieck joked as the ravenette groaned, pressing her head against the table.
"But seriously, are you alright?" Pieck questioned as Dymphna shook her head 'no'.
"I drank too much. . . why did Colt let me drink so muchhhhhhhh?" Her father patted her back as she tried to sit straight but just gave up and laid against the table.
She looked up at Pieck with a questioning gaze with her red and watery eyes that begged to cry for some reason she couldn't remember, along with droopy eyelids, her face almost flushed with red tint but primarily her cheeks. Pieck chuckled at the sight a little before patting her head and gesturing her to rest her head against the table to relax better.
"Colt's one of your friends, there's no way he could deny somebody as sweet as you-" "Pff, yeah right."
"I wasn't even able to finish my sentence. . ." Pieck remarked after being interrupted by Porco making Dymphna turn her head towards him and try to focus her vision on him the best she could, pushing past her dizziness the best she could.
"What do ya mean. . .?" She questioned as she pointed at him for some reason, reaching closer to his face to boop his nose but gave up after her limb felt heavy.
"He probably did it because we all know how much of a mighty drinker you are. Your liver's probably immortal by now." Porco remarked, looking to the other side of the train car, avoiding her drunken gaze that kept trying to focus on his features.
"I don't drink much! I drink. . . uh. . . how much do I drink?"
"You drink a whole bottle once a week, alcoholic."
"Hey, I-! Uh. . . ok, maybe. . ."
"Sweet pea, how about you eat a little? One of the nurses made a snack back home, you've probably been on an empty stomach since we departed." Her father told her, grabbing the container of meat that was in smaller, eatable portions, sliding it to her as she opened it, taking the few pieces and chewing on it before swallowing.
She always took notice of the texture, the taste, the smell. There was no more smell due to it being cold, the texture a bit hardened to being trapped in the container for two days but the taste. . . she can never forget the taste. That taste of cooked pork on her tongue filled her taste buds that only ever desired meat.
The whole table now went silent, the only sounds being the page-turning sound from her father's book.
She never understood why silence became the main denominator when she ate the gifted food by her nurses, who knew best and took care of her well-being. Her nurses were almost like family, so she never understood why some people would disapprove and go silent because of her food or why they'd draw looks of disgust or grimace. . . she simply couldn't understand why.
