It's like what he said. Different smells bring different reactions. Even if we're not always consciously aware of them. It's almost... animal, really, how much people do it. Blood and tears make us panic and worry, but smells like... food cooking or flowers, remind people of safer things. [ If there's pink on her face for it well - it's mercifully hidden behind the thick of black hair that tucks her away most often. Gently plucking at the blanket with two fingers as she looks over the items in a lazy sort of way as she elaborates. ] Whether they really want to or not, it has an affect on them.
[ Patient, always so, Ilde will pick as she likes, she knows. Glad she's trying at least, watching her do so with a pleased expression before she picks up what she's given. Doesn't uncap it yet, more just carefully watching Gio as he applied it.
Because really, the only person she knew that was nearly this sort of pretty was Moxxi. Different through. Moxxi's beauty was edged, a weapon to slice through skin with. Like everything with Pandora. But he's - different. Art to it maybe. Doesn't know, and she's - oh, over thinking people again. All Jack tinged need to over-anticipate, over analyse the way he draws the colours across his mouth. Perfect accent, no nervousness to his hand. Still, after she carefully uncaps the lid, it's a dark pink. She doesn't put it to her lips straight away, presses her thumb to the cut line and sees the colour it goes on her skin. ]
I know it a little, I think. Or at least we have some of the... [ Not completely sure of the difference, but she supposes the accompaniments are different. The flicker of sound, performances the way she knows best: The Ride of Valkyrie, a choir performance done by pilots buzzard copters and conducted by machine gun fire. In the Hall of the Mountain King, sung under the breath of a walking apocalypse as he rose in the crescendo of his boot to a man's throat, accompanied in screaming and pleading for mercy that was never coming.
Unsure, she brings the lipstick up to mimic, not half so smooth, as she drag it across her bottom lip. Pressing her lips together thoughtfully. Feels - odd. Not bad, she supposes, but odd. ] ... orchestra music? [ Smells nice, though: got to remember not to lick it off absently. ]
no subject
[ Patient, always so, Ilde will pick as she likes, she knows. Glad she's trying at least, watching her do so with a pleased expression before she picks up what she's given. Doesn't uncap it yet, more just carefully watching Gio as he applied it.
Because really, the only person she knew that was nearly this sort of pretty was Moxxi. Different through. Moxxi's beauty was edged, a weapon to slice through skin with. Like everything with Pandora. But he's - different. Art to it maybe. Doesn't know, and she's - oh, over thinking people again. All Jack tinged need to over-anticipate, over analyse the way he draws the colours across his mouth. Perfect accent, no nervousness to his hand. Still, after she carefully uncaps the lid, it's a dark pink. She doesn't put it to her lips straight away, presses her thumb to the cut line and sees the colour it goes on her skin. ]
I know it a little, I think. Or at least we have some of the... [ Not completely sure of the difference, but she supposes the accompaniments are different. The flicker of sound, performances the way she knows best: The Ride of Valkyrie, a choir performance done by pilots buzzard copters and conducted by machine gun fire. In the Hall of the Mountain King, sung under the breath of a walking apocalypse as he rose in the crescendo of his boot to a man's throat, accompanied in screaming and pleading for mercy that was never coming.
Unsure, she brings the lipstick up to mimic, not half so smooth, as she drag it across her bottom lip. Pressing her lips together thoughtfully. Feels - odd. Not bad, she supposes, but odd. ] ... orchestra music? [ Smells nice, though: got to remember not to lick it off absently. ]