The Conquerors bloodline

When their meal came, Parc swore Blake had begun drooling even harder than she did when he'd first unveiled his shaft to her. When she dug in with a fury, practically swallowing her mussels whole, shell and all, he'd confirmed the notion. The fish was even worse, he may have loved his steak but Blake, by god could she skin a fish and rip into it in seconds. In all honesty, he was surprised she didn't just lift the whole skate with her hands and gnawed into its spine. Perhaps it was Weiss who taught her, likely taught her entire team, how to use a fish knife but she actually looked half-civilized.

Ignoring the relentless purring or nigh orgasmic pleasure as she downed piece after piece of the lean, stringy fish meat. It wafted with a lemongrass scent blended just faintly with the tang of ginger that teased his nose, overpowering his beloved steak slathered in a herbal rub of rosemary, thyme, and other woody herbs. If it weren't for his distaste of fish, he may have very well have ordered the same, just judging from the way she was melting in tandem with the meat in her mouth.

Unable to hide the sudden quirk of his cheek, Parc shook his head and internally commented how she could make his meat melt. He didn't quite say that aloud. He wouldn't say that in reality, even just the concept made his stomach lurch with cringe induced embarrassment.

A quizzical look over his shoulder to Bleu and his wife, he saw the woman neatly and regally digging into a salad, what sort he couldn't tell, but she was eating a bunch of leaves, so salad seemed the aptest. He focused for a moment on her hands, noticing a slight tremble to her right while her left remained steady as could be. He eyed up her arm, though was unable to see much with the long sleeves covering them up.

Then came a sound that drew the restaurant to silence. It was a little chime over the music, a twinkle he could associate with stars or gemstones. Shifting his gaze, he searched the room but quickly fell to the entranceway. The doors were shut, acting like a frame for the woman and the people standing around her. It was Aurora, she was standing proudly with a class in her hand and a thin spoon in the other, having just used it to collect everyone's attention. Handing the glass and spoon to a passing waiter, she began to speak.

"I apologize for interrupting your meal, but I would like to welcome you all aboard the Grand Mistralian cruise line." Crossing her right hand over her heart, she continued, "my name is Aurora, and I am the captain of this fine ship. I would like to personally welcome each and every one of you to enjoy this saunter across the Sapphire sea." Bowing her head and subsequently her body just slightly, she drew mens—even some womens—gazes to the slim rippling of her blouse barely containing her bountiful melons. Straightening up, she kept quiet at first and skimmed the crowd, finding Parc, a sparkle rose in the depths of her orange stars like a hunter who'd finally found its prey after repeating this 'ceremony' numerous times in other parts of the ship. Licking her lips, she wet them a shade glossier and grinned a Cheshire grin.

'If you want to fuck so badly, you know where I am.' Something though, told him she wasn't just going to up and lunge at him in his room. She'd find somewhere private, tease him towards it before grinding into him, letting him have his way with her body and her with his.

"To show our appreciation to you for joining us, I have asked our brilliant chefs to prepare a special dessert for all of you. I do hope you enjoy it." With another bow, a horde of waiters spilled forth from the push doors on the opposite end of the restaurant. Each carried with them three plates, no more, no less, two were in the left hand, one gripped in the palm, thumb on the edge with their index and middle gripping the base leaving the plate rested in the palm while the ring and pinky lingered off the edge, holding the bottom of the second plate, keeping it stable enough that they could twist and spin without throwing them all over the place. The final plate was gripped in the other hand softly.

It wasn't their original waiter who came to them, instead, it was another boy, thinner, with eye shadow and purple hair hanging in a ponytail. Setting down the plates, Parc inspected their new dessert, it was far from what he'd ordered, but he wasn't rightly going to complain. From the looks of the little mountainous brown cake, he was guessing it was a type of chocolate lava cake, topped with a type of red berry and an off white icing that drizzled down its sides, collecting in a little pool around the cake. There were also a few small pearls of various colours blended into the custard, all suspended in motion like time frozen.

"For you, we have made an original dish our chefs have named, La montagna delle fate. The Fairy's mountain. It is a chocolate lava cake made with silver run chocolate out of Vacuo topped with a special custard made from the milk of the Laviar sheep. Inside the custard, you will find pearls of lychee, strawberry, and kiwi made with the latest in gastronomical innovations. All brought together in this one dish to be offered freely and with thanks to you all." Crossing her hands over her front, the other cruise staff members around her fell into deep bows, "once more, I would like to welcome you aboard the Grand Mistralian and I hope this journey across the Sapphire sea's will find you will." With her own bow and raising, she said with finality, "now, please, enjoy. This one's on the house."

She didn't linger much longer, quickly escaping into the halls of the now opened doors—opened for her for a few seconds before creaking shut once more to stop any intrusive eyes from peering in. Parc began to feast away. Slowly lifting a spoon full of the custard and a few of the pearls, he tasted them. Biting into one its thin, squishy shell fractured and sent forth a wave of intense kiwi flavours. Stronger than even a dozen all blended together. Mixed with the sweet, almost honey-like custard, the taste only grew even stronger. Across from him, Blake cut into the cake, it broke apart easily, letting forth this thick oozing of the richest milk chocolate sauce he'd ever seen before. With a lick of his lips, he did the same and collecting all of the pieces of the dish together, revelled in that dulcet taste of chocolate, honey, and fruits. At first, he hadn't thought they'd work together but in the end, he couldn't help but shiver. Filling his mind with only a single thought, a single idiom that fit the moment so well.

It was like sex in his mouth.

When all was said and done and he was left staring remorsefully down at his plate, Parc shook his head helplessly and pushed the plate away. In doing so he heard an odd crinkling noise coming from beneath it. Lifting the emptied plate, he found a small piece of paper stuck to the bottom of it. Tugging it off, he inspected the yellow paper, tossing Blake a quick look but she was too busy cleaning off her plate with her finger to even notice him.

[Meet me on the entertainment deck past midnight.]

[A]

It didn't take long to realize who it was from. Crumpling the paper into a ball, Parc tossed it into his empty bowl and leaned back. Listening fondly to the silent whispers and the orchestral music overhead. His mind falling soon to thought as he considered the whole reason behind this journey to Menagerie.

The White Fang. Perhaps it was an idiotic notion to be heading to the main headquarters of that radicalized group. But still, they would be one of his most useful pawns for 'uniting' Remnant and finishing off that little challenge he'd been lumped with. There was of course, as there always was with him, a second motivation.

'I wonder how Sienna's going to fall?'