Paper Airplanes [reky]

The first, angry burst of words earned no real response beyond the faint twitch of a fingertip- faint enough, in fact, to be entirely inconsequential. She might as well have been the carcass that Samael was prone to thinking of her as- the rise and fall of her breath was a sturdy reassurance that she was alive, although that didn't make witnessing her flopped lazily halfway over the table any more pleasant.

It was a garbled set of sounds that passed for a mumble that came from under the cloth- a stir of life could be seen in the way her fingers curled in to her palms before flexing back out again, not unlike a cat's claws scraping the carpet as it awakened.
"... Mnnr." Was the very non-committal, muffled reply from underneath the dirtied cloth. It was with remarkable ease that her arms seemed to go limp again, as though the life had simply been sucked out of her.

To think that she'd been accusing other candidates of being zombies earlier was slightly laughable when she was acting so much like one herself.

One could almost hear her opening one eye from underneath the veil she'd put over her head, an impression that was only furthered with a slight tilt of her head from underneath the veil. It was Samael's greeting that caused her hands to move up, pulling the textile that had clearly seen better days away from her face.

She stared out at Samael with a sleepy, vacant acceptance; it didn't take long for the milk-like glaze of her brown eyes to melt away, however. It was a sheepish but very genuine grin that curled the edges of her tan lips, the kind of grin that met a warm twinkle in her eye.

"Howdy-hey, yourself." Her voice had a sleepy drawl to it, raising one hand to use as a prop for her head. "Were you looking for a place to nap, maybe?" Her eyebrows raised slightly at this question, not bothering to correct her posture- like it was totally normal to find someone keeled halfway over a table. "The tables are reeaally comfortable here."

She patted the tabletop with her other hand to prove a point, and to give an invitation towards the girl who was standing there in the doorway.

There were moments you could almost transparently see what Loto was thinking.

The relieved part of the relieved sigh didn't seem to occur to Loto, nor did anything else that might have hinted that anything might be out of place. Of course there was one thing that seemed very out of place to the long-haired candidate, and that was the fact that Samael wasn't interested in a nap. Her welcoming grin didn't fade or falter so much as fluidly change into a very different sort of expression.

A look of very mild-mannered surprise took over the comfortable and airy grin that had been on Loto's face, her mouth pulled into an absent but curious o-shape as she kept her head tilted slightly to the side. If she hasn't been looking for a nap, why wasn't she looking for a nap? Mid day was the perfect time for a nap, and the temperature of the dining hall was pleasant enou-

Oh, the barracks!

A look of understanding came to her when Samael mentioned the barracks. "Ta." It was a musing sound, one that implied agreement. "The halls are kinda spooky, sometimes. They're so big!" It was a casual comment, one that made sense- it was the part that followed that made a little bit less sense. "One time I found a zombie in the barracks. That was scary." It was the fact she said it so mildly, so casually, that made it scary.

When the other girl decided to approach her, that easy and mild curve of her lips came back for another debut. "Sleeping on the floor is okay if you want to be a doormat." It might have sounded philosophical if it weren't so casual, and the deep chocolate-brown of Loto's eyes hadn't seemed to be laughing at some private joke.

"Samael. Sam. Pretty." Echoing Sam's words until the last one, a word that caused Loto's pleasant expression to flourish into a very satisfied-looking beam. The subject of the tables not actually being that comfortable didn't seem to deter her much. Keeping her head propped up on one hand, she used her free hand to extend it to Sam. "Loto. What is your favorite food?"

There were moments that there was absolutely no way to tell what Loto was thinking.

"Ah, yes!" She replied enthusiastically, nodding rather vigorously- lifting her head from her palms as she did so. Her brown eyes had widened slightly and her eyebrows had raised in a look of interest- finally somebody understood... such was the conclusion that Loto came to, anyway.
"That zombie, y'know what? She kicked me. Yeah." Her hands dropped and her arms folded over each other on the table, her attention now rather raptly on the other Candidate.

"I didn't get eaten. Not once." There was pride in the edge of her voice, an easygoing brand of pride that made her voice drop to a purr. Her expression relaxed slightly, still discussing the whole zombie thing as though it were perfectly normal, no more enthusiastically than some other Candidates could be heard talking about what kind of dragon they wanted to Impress or thought they would Impress. She rested her head on her arms now, her warm brown eyes lingering on Samael.

Somehow, those eyes warmed even more- that private twinkle returning all over again, pulling together that easy smile that started in her eyes and bled into her voice. "Ta! That's true. I bet you'd be a super soft, super pretty rug, too. No one would want to step on you." It was said with an air of praise, and so it probably was. There was a loose admiration about the way that Loto regarded the other candidate, clearly taking this whole thing as very normal and enjoyable conversation.

"Invincible." She whispered as Samael gave her report on liking herdbeast best. There was a certain awe about Loto's reaction. "Even your diet sounds strong..."
Trailing off into a thoughtful and brief contemplative silence, it didn't take long for her words to come back around again. "Bet we can find some in the kitchen!" Her eyes brightened up at this idea, her entire face lighting up like a display of Christmas lights.

"I like anything tasty, but it has to be tasty. Cooking is so much fun. Are you hungry, maybe?" Her curiosity was blatantly hopeful, easing back from her awkward slump over the table so that she was sitting at a place on the table like a normal person. She was offset only by the energy that seemed to be vibrating off of her as she wiggled in her seat, an almost puppy-like eagerness applying itself to her.

The simple, very straightforward logic of not being able to speak with Samael if she had been eaten by a zombie went right over her poor little head- at least that's what one would assume, based off that almost ever-present and semi-vacant smile of hers. Her head had again tilted slightly to the side.

"Mm, or I'd have to eat you." It was an interesting attempted turn down logic lane, and the idea of potential morbidity or awkwardness seemed as foreign to her as the concept of zombies being abnormal in everyday conversation. "I think I like talking to you better, though I'm sure you'd taste nice."

Was that supposed to be a compliment? Again, probably. Zombies were already part of the conversation, and what if cannibalism was next? Fortunately, that was a subject that Samael wouldn't much have to worry about.
"Really-really. You would." It was with great conviction and assurance she'd nod towards Samael, cementing her words with a casual seriousness that was still somehow laughable in it's inherent warmth.

At Samael's comment of Loto being a pretty rug with decorations, the girl lifted herself up just a little bit more. She seemed to glow with this compliment, giving her a visible ego boost. "Aah, that's the first time someone has said that about me- thank you!" One would certainly hope it was the first time someone had said that about her. Clearly taking the comparison as a compliment, the pacific-looking girl had risen to an entirely normal seating position.

Her eyes grew wide and pleased at Sam's whisper, the grin spreading over her face like wildfire. The brief laugh that exploded from her was soft and genuine, blending slowly into her words.
"Me too, me too!" She had risen to a standing pose in her enthusiasm, leaning forward so she was only a few inches from the other girl's face, and it was an innocently impish grin that was a precursor to her own whispered words. "I'm always hungry, too."

As though it were some great secret [which it clearly wasn't], Loto winked rather benignly at Samael. Pushing herself off and away from the table, she'd already begun tittering off towards the kitchens. A tiny skip in her step that made it a bit more rushed than normal, stealing a quick and distracted glance over her shoulder back at Samael before speeding it up just a fraction more.

It didn't seem very competitive, but it was an invitation to race- at least if that giggle she couldn't quite hide meant anything at all.

Conversations about zombies and rugs were soon left behind in favor of the more raw and entertaining prospect of a kitchen adventure! She was too distracted to rush, peeking over her shoulder with a lingering look of interest to make sure that the short-haired Candidate was following suit, and she was. Satisfied, she turned her attention back towards reaching the door. When she did, she benevolently reached a hand out to open it for Samael, but the girl had beaten her to it.

Sam was already meekly poking her head in, and Loto stood a few feet behind her with one arm outstretched as though frozen for a brief time.

Her hand groped at the air for a moment, a fleeting and nearly pouting expression finding it's way to her soft face. She wanted to act the part of a gentleman, dagnabbit! One of her shoulders arched in a half-shrug, bumping lightly into one side of the door to press it open more completely.
"After you, m'dear!" Her words were airy and expansive, made more dramatic with the way she half-curtsied into the door, gesturing in towards the kitchen. If Sam were to glance her way, she'd catch Loto winking at her; nothing outlandish so much as playful.

It was a rather warm welcome to the kitchens, and Loto's body language did nothing if not assure how comfortable she was charging in to the kitchens. Her head turned to regard the drudges who were stuck cleaning, giving a very acknowledging nod towards the crew and those who may have acknowledged her back. "C'mon, c'mon, maybe we can- oooh..."

Loto's attention had settled on one of the nearby butcher-blocks, a series of ingredients catching her eye and bringing a twinkle out of them. "Wanna make meat rolls?" With an enthusiasm and hopeful tinge to her voice that was impossible to ignore, Loto eagerly turned her eyes back to Samael. "You can take some back to your room afterwords, promise!" She lifted one finger to her lips, as though to imply this were some kind of secret.

Sam's inherent discomfort wasn't something that Loto spent much time parking on, the best way to make someone more comfortable with a situation was just being in it! Before the shorter-haired and newer Candidate had the opportunity to speak of her opinion, the tall girl was already moving with a purpose as she pulled a pair of bowls over towards the end of the closest butcher-block. With a flourish of her wrists she set them down, and to say that she was beaming at Samael would be a harsh understatement.

"Yes, yes! Making meat rolls is easy- s'fun, too..." She moved with fluid awareness of the kitchen, the heart of any place; each one was designed differently, but once you'd navigated one you'd Farnath well near navigated them all. "Loto knows how to make them!"
She chirped these confidently in contrast to Sam's slightly more questioning role in the matter, tossing a slightly damp dishtowel towards the girl. "Loto also knows how to talk in third person and tell you to wash your hands real quick."

Playful words, and it seemed that Loto's enthusiasm wasn't going to be tapering off any time soon. She shimmied with purpose in a semi-circle so that she could lean slightly against the edge of the place she'd parked the materials, the back of her hands pressing casually against the edges as she rocked against her heels. Loto was quite comfortable it seemed, cheered on by Samael's appearance.

"How d'you imagine meat rolls being made, Samael?" It wasn't a quiz, nor was the question harsh. It was innocently beseeching, curious the same way she might ask someone's name. "Magic totally counts." This statement was mostly an afterthought, but no less true.
"All cooking takes magic." She said this in a manner so dapper and serious that it was impossible to take seriously, her awkwardly straight face standing out until it was smoothed humorously away by the grin that seemed to be a permanent part of her.