There was a zombie in Brünhilde's necromancy class.
At first, she wasn't sure if it was a part of the class, perhaps some sort of example for an assignment, but when she realized that she had seen the person roaming around on campus, it occurred to her that it was a student. He was a student. She had a zombie classmate?
The witch was normally good at staying composed, but when she saw the zombie passing through their dormitory lounge one day, she couldn't help the way her face went red and her hands trembled. After shoving her hands in her pockets, she stood and made her way over to it. Him. The student.
"Excuse me?" Her voice was clear and calm, thankfully, as she called out to get the person's attention. What was his name again? The football-jock gear and rotting flesh had distracted her during class, so she didn't remember if it had been mentioned by their teacher. "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time? But I could not help but notice we share a class together."
Idly, she hoped she didn't look as flustered as she felt. Usually she was great with small talk, but she was being a bit hesitant for the moment. Probably because she was trying to talk to a large, intimidating, beautiful zombie.
At first it was a tingle then a voice began ringing in Gorduelle’s ear. His head slumped over to the side then slowly turned to face the individual speaking to him. Saliva rattled as air slipped between Gorduelle’s teeth before speaking, “Time . . .” Gorduelle uttered slowly in a ragged breath. His one good eye slithering to the side before returning to the one speaking to him, as if contemplating the meaning of the word. “We . . . we have . . . time.” He spoke, as his face crinkled upward in an awkward smile.
“My name . . . it is . . . Gorduelle,” his voice was like a dull knife grinding across wooden grooves. “How can . . . I . . . help you?” A slight pop could be heard as he straightened his head from his slumped position. His shoulders suddenly shifted back, and his spine aligned itself. He was interested; interested in knowing why this female had approached him? When so many others had not.
"Oh." The small sound of surprise left Brünhilde's lips involuntarily as she stared at Gorduelle, stunned. She wasn't sure what she expected, but him actually taking the time to respond to her was not it. The witch was unbothered by the smell of his breath, and was more fascinated by all of the dribbling bits of his face than anything else, but his smile was what caught her attention the most. Unabashedly, she flashed him back a wide, genuine smile of her own.
"You have a beautiful name, Gorduelle. I'm Brünhilde." She couldn't help but marvel at him, from the slow careful way he spoke, to the way hearing his voice sent shudders wracking through her spine. But she knew she shouldn't let herself get distracted, not when he had asked her a question. "I have been wanting to introduce myself to you. I've noticed you around campus, and you seem very interesting." There really was no way to say what she wanted to without being straightforward, so the witch pulled one of her small hands out of her pocket and thrust it in his direction. "Please be my friend."
The worst he could do was say no, after all. Well, really, the worst he could do was possibly rip off her arm and beat her to death with it before eating her body, the zombie did look strong enough where that could be possible. Brünhilde didn't think that was very probable, though, and she would much rather take the chance of risk if it meant she could have the chance to befriend the creature before her.
All of Gorduelle’s face settled back into its dulled state except his brow, which pinched upward in surprise to Brünhilde’s question regarding . . . friendship? Gorduelle’s good eye scanned Brünhilde’s smooth arm and hands up to her sleeve, then dripped down to the floor. “Friends,” he pronounced surprisingly clearly, without pause. His gazed lifted as both of his eyes’s locked with Brünhilde’s and the crunchy smile returned to his face. “Sounds . . . pleasant,” he lifted his battered arm and gently placed his leathery hand over hers.
“Brün . . . Hielde,” the slimy sound of his tongue slopping across his teeth could be heard as he pronounced the very end of Brünhilde’s name. “We shall . . . learn . . . together.” Gorduelle rattled, speaking between his exposed teeth with each exhale. In truth Gorduelle was quite excited at the idea of having a friend in one of his classes, even though his face struggled to show it. The feeling seemed familiar but he couldn’t recall the memory. The friends he did have never approached him with such confidence and intent, if at all.
The pronunciation of her name was as interesting as his. Simply saying it felt comfortable. He also couldn’t help but to take notice of her rosy cheeks and violet hair. She didn’t seem like one who would be interested in Necromancy, which made curious of her reasons for taking the class. “Why . . . Necro. . . . mancy . . . Brünhield?”
Brünhilde remained steady and unwavering as the other took his time to mull over her words. Perhaps her hand shook a bit, as her nerves were a messy jumble, and her cheeks did grow more and more red with each passing moment, but she had no intention of rescinding her offer. "Friends," she repeated in agreement with a small nod of her head. When he finally responded in the positive and set his hand on hers, the witch made a small noise of delight and shuffled a bit closer to him. "It does sound pleasant, doesn't it?"
It was slightly distracting, how wet and sloppy and obscene he sounded when saying her name, and she licked her lips absently before flicking her gaze away from his mouth and to his eyes again. Her smile grew a bit playful, and she teased, "You can call me Brunnie, if you want. I know my name can be a mouthful." Brünhilde didn't want to make him uncomfortable in her presence, after all, and if he had an easier time saying her name then it would be easier for him to speak more quickly? She wanted to hear what he had to say. Quite frankly, the way he said her name was both adorable and distracting to her in a dangerous way. The witch was not used to being distracted by such small things.
"We can be study buddies for class, if you'd like. I'd enjoy that." The witch did already make friends with one of the other students in their 101 class, and they had studied together a few times, but Brünhilde wasn't sure if she wanted to share. Perhaps after some time had passed, but not quite yet, not unless she was asked.
That particular question she had been asked several times, and she wasn't ashamed of it, but she was a bit flustered to have to tell a zombie about her fascination of the undead and all that came with it. "Necromancy interests me very much. What about you, Gorduelle? Why necromancy?" Her tone was teasing and playful again, and her eyes sparked brightly with mirth. She would think that out of anyone, a zombie would be the most informed in the subject.
Gorduelle noticed that Brunnie didn’t actually answer his question regarding her purpose in the necromancy class, but did not want to force the issue. Perhaps with time he would learn, or perhaps her interest in magic was too vast for him to understand at this point. He was mostly intrigued by the way she watched him. In most circumstances he was the one gawking over a human, admiring their long necks, smooth skin, and plush meat. However, in this circumstance he felt like he was the prey. He liked it; it diffused his natural predatory instincts.
Although Gorduelle knew the immediate answer to Brunnie’s question, he paused to think about how he would compose the words, “My kind . . . I know them . . . I . . . can mold them . . . teach them.” Gorduelle limped his hand gently to his shoulder and slide it down to his chest where his heart would be; it was as if he were petting the leathery hide that covered his upper body. Gorduelles face melted with sadness as a bitter memory resurfaced, his good eye struggled to settle on a distant candle and a sigh slithered from his exposed teeth.
Lost in thought, Gorduelle had almost forgotten about her “study buddies“ reference. He huffed a bit, tickled by the word; it had been a while since he heard it. “study . . .” his tongue slopped once more when he pronounced the word, air and saliva slipped through his teeth as he inhaled deeply to say the next, “Buddies,” His lips quivered a bit upon trying to create the “buh” do to the thick stitches clasped his lips together along part of his mouth. Gorduelle reached up running his rugged fingers along the stitches. He hadn’t really noticed them until now. However, without them the side of his mouth would flop open accompanied by an unsavory amount of drool. Perhaps he would discover a way to fix this in his medical class, so that he could talk, normally. The need hadn’t really presented itself in the past.
It was not a normal thing for Brünhilde to be so aggressive with her observations of other people. The slyness of her words and avoidance of fully answering questions was characteristic of her, being that she was a fan of word play and games, but the blatant staring... She really couldn't help herself, though, not in this case. Gorduelle's mannerisms were proving to be unlike she had expected, and it fascinated her. He fascinated her. He was a fascinating person, what could she say?
Her red eyes flashed with a dark, sharp look of regard, and a wicked smirk appeared on her mouth just a moment before a fond smile tugged at her lips. "I imagine you'd be very good at it. How lucky for you, to have such a skill... Do you think you would be willing to help teach me, as well?" The zombie seemed sincere and almost kind when he spoke about necromancy, and it was very sweet to see. The witch was charmed by him and felt sympathetic when she noted his sadness... However, Brunnie was unable to note how large and strong and wonderful his hands would be for molding things. Things like parts of her body, perhaps? The witch rarely held her tongue when it came to flirty suggestions, but this time she refrained because she didn't want to disrespect her new friend in any way; especially when said friend had so much potential when it came to a natural skill with necromancy. She could always flirt in the future also, so there was no rush to accost her classmate or anything like that.
"Study buddies and bosom companions?" Brunnie's words were as playful as ever, despite her seriousness of it. Why not be close friends? Gorduelle didn't seem to mind the thought of it, though he did seem rather distracted. Her gaze followed the path of his hand, and she watched him feel at the stitches curiously. Did they impede on his ability to eat? They did seem to force him to speak more slowly, and it made the witch feel a bit bad for starting a conversation with him. Almost.
"Were you busy or on your way to do anything now?" She wasn't sure if he had been heading off to class or to study, or on his way to eat. Zombies ate flesh from what she was aware, so how did Gorduelle satisfy his appetite on campus? Would he be interested in doing things like getting drinks and sitting to chat and people watch, or would it be rude to ask? Brünhilde decided she would put the ball in his court, so to speak, rather than blatantly inviting herself along. "I'm free for the rest of the day, myself."
Thoughts fluttered away as Gorduelle felt the sting of Brunnie’s eyes upon him. His attention returned to her and even though she hadn’t moved, he felt as if she were closer to him. “I too . . . have much . . . to learn,” he rattled between breaths. “However . . . I believe . . . we could learn much . . . from each other.” Gorduelle’s voice was gritty, and sloppy when he spoke. He leaned forward moving his hand away from his stiches and resting his arm on the table. His head creaked into position to adjust to the new point-of-view.
“I . . . have some time,” Gorduelle proclaimed, his chest heaving up as if relieved by the request. He had recalled a spot on campus that overlooked the forest and horizon, where the sun would loft over the sea. The question was, would be willing to travel to such a remote place . . . with a zombie? She hadn’t shown any hint of fear thus far. Why not propose the question now?
“I . . . have a place . . . a precious place . . . we can go.” Gorduelle uttered, the muscles in his forearm jerked as he lifted his hand, wanting to clutch Brunhielde’s arm in anticipation. His other hand panned lightly as if trying to paint the image of a sky, but he hesitated to even lift it above his eye line.
“Perhaps . . . you could join . . . me?” His voice started strong, then withered as if ashamed of asking the question. As if worry had entangled itself in his thoughts due to the fear . . . she might say no.
And he was modest, too. The witch had begun to make a mental list of all of the characteristics she noticed of Gorduelle so far, and they were all startlingly positive. Even his vintage football outfit was quirky in a way she could appreciate, and she was planning on asking him about his fashion choices at a later time. "I would love to learn from you." Her enthusiasm was unabashed, and her words were sincere as she offered, shifting forwards a bit so she could move just a bit closer to him, "And I would be glad to teach you anything you'd like to know from me. Friends help each other when they can."
Brünhilde might have had the desire for something a bit more than friendship, but she'd start off slow. It was rewarding enough to see the zombie react to her gentle advances as was, and she had no intention of overwhelming him. If she did so unintentionally, well, that would be purely accidental.
"...You'd like me to join you at your precious place? Just the two of us?" Her eyes widened in surprise, and a bit more color rushed to her cheeks. She was pleased at the offer, as she wasn't expecting him to suggest anything like that, it nearly sounded romantic. Brunnie was aware that she was probably just projecting her feelings onto the situation at hand, though, so she tried to take it in stride and be as casual as she could. Any coy smiles or fluttering of her eyelashes were an accident of instinct, rather than any manipulations. And fear? It was quite clear she had no fear of the situation at all; she was very confident of her own strength and skills to keep herself safe.
"I would love that, Gorduelle. Let me grab a coat first, so I don't catch a chill... Unless you'd like to try and keep me warm?" Now that particular bit of flirting was intentional, but she was just teasing... Mostly because she didn't know if a zombie could keep her warm. She would have to pay better attention to his body temperature, the next time she touched him. Maybe he grew warm only after feeding? That was just one more thing for her to watch out for and observe.
She accepted? This shouldn't have been as surprising as it was considering Brünhilde slipped the hint. However, Gorduelle was still quite flattered by her acceptance. His heavy brow lifted and his eye's squinted relaying how content he was Brünhilde's response. However, Gorduelle didn't feel like he was ready to go out immediately. Gorduelle felt he would need some time to prepare.
"I . . . am glad," he said, before his brow writhed with worry as he proposed his next suggestion, "Perhaps . . . we can meet . . . some time . . . tomorrow?" He knew he still had a medical assignment due and had the perfect idea, he would just need time. Hopefully Brünhilde would understand, he hadn't really "cleaned up" since he came to the academy and for once he had a reason too.
Depending on her response maybe he could walk with her around campus. He still hadn't fully explored the campus quite yet.
The witch watched him curiously, feeling a languid sort of satisfaction as the way he was responding to her. There was no need to rush anything, and she was quite confident that the appeal of her friendship--or just pleasant human company in general--would keep Gorduelle interested enough to want to continue speaking. Eventually. And if he got lost in his own thoughts, Brünhilde had no problem with waiting.
"Not tonight?" She countered, clarifying it with some disappointment... Though that disappointed quickly abated and was replaced with amusement. She smiled slyly at him, coyly, and suggested teasingly, "It's a date, then."
Brünhilde would enjoy having something to look forward to, in any case. Slowly but surely she was building up a social circle to spend time with, because for all her quiet observing nature, she really did enjoy passing the time with others. Friends were important, but they were also useful for networking and alliances and entertainment.
"I was just about to read now, but if you'd like to join me, you're more than welcome to. Or I would be happy to go out for... Food or drinks...?" She wasn't sure if he could eat or drink but it was online polite to offer. "If not, we can just meet up tomorrow... At what time?" Gorduelle had offered the place, after all, and Brünhilde wasn't sure if it was best to go in the daylight or evening hours.
Reading sounded nice. Gorduelle enjoyed just hearing the sound of another voice besides the one in his head. "Reading . . . yes . . . that sounds . . . pleasant." He uttered breathing in and out between his teeth between words. His good eye squinted with delight as he planted his leathery hands on the table in front of him and lurked over it pushing himself up to his feet.
"Time . . . " he moaned as if the word some how haunted him. A frown curled across his face as he thought and paused, then uncurled when he had an answer. "When the last . . . bell tolls . . . let us meet . . . in the courtyard." The slop of words caused a bit of drool to slip from his bared teeth in which he seemed unaware of.
Gorduelle continued his ascent from his chair until he stood at full height rearing back his shoulders and adjusting his posture with great effort. He stood a proud 6 feet in height and held out his arms as an offer to carry Brünhilde's books. "May . . . I?" he questioned, as he locked his gaze down upon Brünhilde.
"I like the lounge in the Otherworlde Castle to read in, it is comfortable and there is enough passing traffic to make for nice people watching. It is not too loud to concentrate but it is not quiet enough to make conversation feel unwelcome... So we can go there to read, if you'd like." The witch was more than happy to read wherever she went, really, but it would be nice to have an excuse to walk around with Gorduelle and bask in his company for that much longer.
It was nice to be able to move around campus, as well. The dormitory lounge was pleasant, but Brünhilde enjoyed being seen around various parts of the Academy, and seeing the other residents as well. It made socialization that much easier, when one was recognized as a familiar face.
The witch nodded her approval and agreed easily, "That sounds lovely, then." It was an easy time to remember and even easier place, and if worse came to worse, she would be seen in public with him before disappearing to some private place... If only so she could brag about the outing later to her friends, and have witnesses that she had actually went.
"Oh, thank you." Brünhilde gently deposited her books in Gorduelle's arms, and after pulling back from him a little bit to appraise his tall height appreciatively, she leaned in a little closer and smiled shyly. "I hope you don't mind..." She pulled on the end of her sleeve ad stood on the tips of her toes so that she could wipe away some of the drool from his mouth. It wasn't an obscene or degrading gesture, and she was hoping it would come across as sweet.
With her cheeks red again, she took a step away from him and tried to keep any awkward fluster out of her voice. "Alright then, let's go. To the Castle. Yes?"
A familiar feeling swept over Gorduelle as Brünhilde wiped his mouth. His face uncomfortably stretched as he attempted to smile. In truth, he enjoyed Brünhilde's company but was also very suspicious of her behavior. Judging from the reactions he had gathered so far from others, few would dare to even get close to him let alone wipe the drool from his mouth, using their own sleeve of all things.
Then again, despite her intentions, genuine or not, would be good for the other students to witness. A zombie comfortably strolling in the company of another student. Perhaps it would give others the courage to approach him or perhaps it would make any potential enemies of Brünhilde's less likely to confront her knowing she had a Zombie a for a friend. Maybe they would just thing she was a Zombie she brought back to life as her personal servant. Gorduelle fumbled over a multitude of reasonings as he walked his posture slowly returning to it's more limped/rigid nature.
"What . . . will we . . . be reading?" Gorduelle said, flickering his good eye over in the direction of Brünhilde. At the moment he was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't truly been taking in the sights of the campus architecture.
The witch felt a small thrill shoot through her when Gorduelle made no move to pull away from her touch... Or bite her. There was a clear spring in her step despite the languid pace at which she walked, but they managed to head to the Castle at a decent rate despite their slower movements.
"Earlier I was reading The Physical, Emotional, Mental and Magical Repercussions of Longtime Necromancy Use..." Brünhilde blinked and looked a bit sheepish, at that. She had been studying non-stop since arriving on campus, but perhaps that wouldn't be the best book to share with the zombie. "But I think I have a book in that pile about fashion and clothing choices for different areas of magic? If you wanted some lighter-hearted reading."
Actually, that posed a perfect lead into a topic she was very curious about. So as they made their way inside the castle, she turned her head to look him over from the side, lips curved upwards in a sly smile. "You have some interesting fashion choices, yourself. Maybe that topic would interest you?"
Gorduelle examined the castle interior, panning his head from one side to the other. “Wonderful.” He said aloud, captivated by his current situation, his surroundings. He was enjoying himself, enjoying the experience with Brünhilde.
Gorduelle pondered Brünhilde’s words as he walked along side her. He breathed deep in through his nose as if trying to catch a whiff of her scent. However, his senses were so dull all he managed was the same tingling sensation of air coursing through his nostrils that he always got. He never considered his vintage football gear a fashion choice it was more for protection than anything else, but he did choose it over an array of possibilities. “It was . . . once . . . my grandfathers,” he proclaimed, unsure of her reasoning behind the inquiry.
Was she trying to say she didn’t like his gear, that it wasn’t stylish enough, or the exact opposite? Gorduelle examined Brünhilde’s attire and form; she had a unique since of style from his point-of-view, perhaps this was something he was lacking and that the book would help him with in order to fit-in. Either way he wanted a bit of clarity, “Fashion . . . would I . . . be . . . considered . . . fashionable?” He asked, turning his gaze over to Brünhilde’s.
"It is, isn't it?" The appreciation was clear in her tone as she looked around with him, admiring the atmosphere of the castle... As well as her company. She was very proud to be able to walk around with Gorduelle and talk politely, and it was making her day so very wonderful.
Brünhilde tilted her head curiously and closed the space between them just a bit, leaning in to inspect some of the details of his outfit. "Is it really? That is very sweet." The wear and tear of the outfit seemed genuine, but the construction of it was much better than she had expected. It only seemed fitting for such a large powerful creature to wear something that wouldn't tear apart at the seams easily.
"Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to confuse you. For all my teasing, I do think you look very fashionable. It's a vintage-retro jock-chic look?" The witch nodded her approval, reaching to tug at the top of his high-waist pants. "It's very eye-catching. It takes someone with a lot of confidence to wear it, I think..." Perhaps fashion wasn't the best topic to bring up, and she pressed a hand to her cheek as she took a moment to think. If she were going to read something for the benefit of both of their entertainment, it would be nice to have her classmate enjoy the topic as well.
"If that doesn't interest you, you can pick out one of the books I have? Or we can just sit together and people watch. I am happy enough just with your company." There would always be books to read, of course, and she could read them on her own time. She did not want Gorduelle to be bored in her presence.
In truth, Gorduelle wasn’t interested in fashion, because he didn’t really understand it much. However, he was interested in Brünhilde’s perspective on the matter. Perhaps through her he could gain a deeper understanding, appreciation, or some entertainment. “According to your book. Who . . . among those . . . in class . . . stand out as . . . fashionable individuals.” Gorduelle’s words seemed to twist and turn with the flesh of his face as he pronounced the sentence. His gaze casually passed over various patrons in the area.
“...and what would you consider your style of fashion?” He added, curious to find out her answer. He was glad she came a little closer, he could hear her better. He didn’t have the greatest set of ears in the world. He generally relied on his ability to read lips over his hearing. Making this conversation a bit challenging for him. He was eager to find a place to sit down, and figured he would let her do the choosing.
For some reason it just felt right to let her take the lead. It made it easier to observe, to figure out. Already he knew she was far more cunning then him. Thinking about her, even though she was right their infront of him, made Gorduelle more curious about her past and her reasons for attending the school. Her situation before the school, she had avoided it before, but perhaps he could re-word things in a way that would give him the answer he wanted.
The witch wasn't expecting the zombie to be interested in fashion, and she wasn't sure if he was just humoring her or if he was genuinely curious about her answers... But she would respond anyways. A smile tugged at her lips and she kept her gaze on the people passing by as she thought over his question. "In our classes? Probably Cathrine, the voodoo witch, she has a very nice variety of styles she wears. And she's beautiful. I do like Casca's outfit though, lace is pretty. Delicate and ornate... And occasionally see-through."
Brünhilde didn't want to get lost in thought over clothing when her companion was so much more interesting, and she was fairly sure he was asking about more than just her fashion sense. She turned so that she sit on her side and face him fully, disregarding the passersby and her previous people watching, and grinned. "I would like to think I am cute and eccentric. Not too wild, mind you, but with a grace that makes me seem composed no matter how strange all my clothes might look together. Something that catches people off guard and keeps them on their toes, mm?" That and she did like wearing cute things, but that was hardly the point.
Gorduelle was very composed, and it surprised Brünhilde slightly. He was polite and attentive, he could carry on a conversation, and he seemed to be a lot smarter than she imagined most people would give him credit for. It made her very curious as to what he was thinking, but she didn't want to bombard him with questions, no matter how tempting it was.
So instead, she just teased, all rosy cheeks and pleasant smiles, "I could get you some cute accessories, if you'd like. Maybe some stickers to put on your shoulder pads?" The witch reached up to tap on said shoulder pad, barely refraining from laughing at how adorable and out of place looking that would be.
Gorduelle's mouth winced with the attempt to smile, "Should . . . the stickers . . . be enchanted . . . with . . . protective wards . . . then yes . . . you may . . . apply the stickers," Gorduelle said in a coherent but sloppy manner, filtering saliva and air as he inhaled through his teeth between groups of words. Gorduelle admired Brünhilde's quirky disposition and he actually caught on to her teasing. Gorduelle squinted happily, hoping he responded appropriately.
Thus far Brünhilde was the only one to approach him with such confidence and with means of befriending him rather than questioning his origins. Questions he wasn't sure he could answer, however he remembered the necromancy class assignment and wondered what Brünhilde witnessed during the seance.
Gorduelle's eyebrows lifted, and the muscles in his face puckered together, "What did . . . you see? See . . . during the seance!" Gorduelles voice rattled in low purr as he leaned in closer, quite interested in her answer.
Brünhilde's brows quirked upwards, and she laughed for a moment in delight. "If I put protective wards on them, you'd wear them? That is very within my witchy abilities, you know." If he'd wear them, she would make them in an instant. It would be a good show of friendship, after all... And he'd look cute. "Would you prefer hearts or stars?"
Shivers went down her spine at the vibration in his voice, and she bit back a sigh as she looked him over thoughtfully. There was clear excitement in her eyes as she thought back to the seance, and her face was flushed as she reminisced on it. "I saw light and power and the future! Well. In all seriousness, the spirit that spoke to me was rather harmless? But it was wonderful all the same."
She rapped her fingers against her thigh and hummed to herself, wondering how a zombie would see the world. Gorduelle was much more coherent than she would have ever thought a zombie to be, and he was clearly intelligent--even willing to play with his words and respond to her teasing. With his charm and sweet smile, she wouldn't be surprised if people would be swarming him with admiration and friendship aspirations... Why more people hadn't approached him was a mystery, to her.
"What did you see, Gorduelle?" She tilted her head so that her hair fell aside and the smooth muscles in her neck were displayed to him, a show of trust (or perhaps another taunt) to her classmate. "Anything of interest?"
Gorduelle's gazed turned down to the table for a moment as he pretended to ponder the first question. "hearts . . . they . . . taste better," Gorduelle teased, his good eye flickered in Brünhilde's direction as soon as he spoke. Gorduelle returned to a more relaxed posture and wiped his mouth playfully to ensure there was no drool slipping from it's crevices.
Gorduelles brow arched as, yet again, Brünhilde managed to thwart clearly answering another one of his questions. He would have to work on re-wording his questions to make them less . . . evasive. He dared not ask another question pertaining to the seance, he didn't want to pry. Even if he did, he had a feeling she would find a way around it. This seemed to be her nature in this . . . sort of setting.
"A . . . cat," Gorduelle sputtered, staring blankly ahead as his mind traveled back to the moment in which they spoke of. Gorduelle's face melted into a frown with the thought as his upper-body heaved with a soft sigh. Gorduelle noticed Brünhilde's gesture, it wasn't much different than the gesture of an animal rolling over and showing its belly to a friend.
"The cat . . . used to . . . do just that." Gorduelle's eyes broadened, as if surprised. Surprised he remembered.
It took a few seconds for the joke to fully process with the witch, but when it finally did Brünhilde was so caught off guard that she let out a graceless snort and slapped her hands over her mouth to keep in her loud laughter. Her face flushed a bright red and after a moment of giggles, she nodded enthusiastically. "Heart stickers it is, then. I'll try to find scented ones so that they'll be extra delicious for you, mm?"
Brunnie did not intentionally evade his questions, but it was just... A habit of hers. Even with her friends she tended to dance around subjects as a sort of game, to tease them and drag on conversations in the most entertaining way possible. Answering things clearly was difficult for her, at times; she was raised to be a witch, after all, by women who were equally as wily. It was hardly her fault, and with how well Gorduelle was keeping up with her, it only encouraged her to be more verbally playful.
"Mmm?" She turned to try and follow his gaze, curious if she would see any cat familiars pass by, but when nothing crossed her path she returned her attention to the zombie curiously. The witch grinned playfully and once he regathered his thoughts, she stretched her neck out for him and laughed. "I suppose they do. Would you like to pet me, then?"
Normally, Gorduelle wouldn't have used that joke, but after warming up to Brünhilde he worked up the gaul and began comprehending the game she was playing. He was glad she reacted the way she did. He watched her for a moment, her reaction, tickled by it on inside. It was a pleasant feeling, a familiar feeling he had seemingly . . . misplaced.
In truth, Gorduelle did want to pet Brünhilde, but the feeling was awkward and he wasn't comfortable enough to act on it. "Perhaps . . . some other . . . time," Gorduelle advised, if he could blush he probably would be at this moment. But time was of the essence. Gorduelle could feel his hunger setting in and Brünhilde's neck was beginning to look less like the belly of a kitten, and more like something he wouldn't mind sinking his teeth into.
"It nice . . . thank you," Gorduelle said, referring to their time together, as he slopped over to his feet standing before the table. and the veins in his eyes slowly slithered towards his pupils. "Talk making . . . hungry . . . must go . . . eaaat," Gorduelle grumbled, as his face winced into a smile. His fingers convulsed and jolted as if eager as Gorduelle gradually stiff armed them behind his back.
Brünhilde was still surprised and pleased that Gorduelle felt comfortable enough around her to joke, and the goriness of the joke didn't bother her one bit. It was nice that he had a sense of humor and nicer still that he shared it with her, and she felt very lucky. Had any other students seen him tell jokes? They were missing out, in her opinion.
"I'll hold you to that promise, Gorduelle." She could sense that he was feeling a bit awkward, and she wasn't sure if he just wasn't comfortable with touching, or if he was flustered by her flirtatious teasing. "And perhaps you'll let me repay the favor?" Her voice trailed off as the atmosphere seemed to shift between them, and her gaze sharpened to an almost predatory feline sort of curiosity as she watched him stand.
It might have been a bit strange, that she considered that a compliment; she was delicious enough to make him hungry from talking? It might have just been him being tired from the exertion, but that wasn't as fun to think. "It was nice, yes. I'll see you on our date tomorrow, then?" It would not do for him to forget, especially when he was getting all fidgety and dangerous and extra-especially-handsome.
"Yes . . . tomorrow," Gorduelle purred from the depths of his chest. He lingered awkwardly without breathing for a moment, as if enchanted. Then Gorduelle turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. His breath returned, like a slow steady breeze marking the pace at which he lurked further and further away.
"Amazing. . ." Gorduelle hummed to himself, complimenting Brünhilde as if he where to distracted to put into words what he felt earlier. In truth he didn't know how to put what he felt into words, nor how to make sense of at all. Brünhilde was a simply amazing person, simply put. He wondered how much of himself he could be around her. How much she would be willing to accept.
Brünhilde was Gorduelle's first friend and obviously a distracting once at that. He had a feeling he would come value their camaraderie. Even after first meeting her he wanted to tell her of his plots. Perhaps should would assist him in them. No, he needed to wait, he needed to figure her out more first. Thus, far she was a mystery . . . one he desperately wanted to solve.
Brünhilde watched Gorduelle with a pleasant smile and keen eyes, taking note everything about the zombie with delight. He really was charming, and funny, and handsome, and sweet, and he seemed rather intelligent despite his slow speaking and jock appearance.
Or then again, she was probably biased. She had just been asked out on a date, after all! It might have been a nice outing among friends, classmates, but still, it was something to look forwards to. They could talk about necromancy, and maybe even the details of his zombie nature, if that wasn't too personal a topic for him? The witch curled up in her seat and snuggled up with herself, taking the time to daydream about all the things they could do together and talk about.