Side Story about the close friendship and a common even between Visage’s and Angel’s Shadow.
“Why am I doing this again, Cy-Cy?” Elodia asked, rolling over back onto her stomach.
“Roll back onto your back please. And you wanted to help me. So stay still then.” Cyril grumbled, “I’m almost done with the sketch.” He added when Elodia gave him an annoyed look before she rolled back onto her back.
He had her lying down on the frosty ground, her legs up against a wall. She was wearing some slimming black clothing which consisted of a tank top and leggings, but no shoes, while he himself was well-clothed against the snowy weather. Colver was wrapped in some blankets on a nearby bench, fast asleep.
“Just stay still!”
“Come on! Can’t we take a break?”
Cyril watched Elodia through the eyes of his mask before sighing, “Fine. I brought some soda, it’s in my bag. Just don’t mess up your facepaint.”
“It’s literally a mask, no need.” Elodia grinned, sitting up, “Your bag is closer to you, bring me one.”
Cyril only shook his head before crouching down and grabbing a soda bottle and himself a can. Tossing the bottle at Elodia, he watched as she popped the cap off with ease and took a sip.
“Can I see it yet?”
“Okay, what about-”
“No, I won’t take my mask off. Not even to my closest friend.” Cyril sighed, opening his soda can, “Hurry up, we need to finish the sketch before you get sick.”
“Then you should have made me wear warmer clothes!”
“Too bad that I needed you to wear that.” And with that he took a sip of his soda before placing it down.
Elodia groaned as she laid back down to her original position. She was tired, but she did agree to this. The soda bottle laid down next to her.
Cyril continued his slow pace at drawing until he was finally done with the sketch, “Done.”
Elodia shot up, grinning because she was finally free from laying on the cold ground. She hopped onto the towel that Cyril laid out, so she didn’t have to stand shoe-less on the freezing ground.
Cyril chuckled as she started to rub her arms to get some warmth. Sometimes he never really understood her and her actions, but he normally just shrugs it off as part of her personality.
He watched her for a bit more before taking off his coat and walking over to the currently freezing female. He dropped his coat on-top of her before walking back to his sketch.
“Is anyone at Firefly Bites today?” He asked as he started to pack up.
“Nah. My dads are with my grandparents at the mansion with the twins and Damario is sleeping over at his friends. So, sí, you can stay over.”
Cyril watched as Elodia brought out two hot chocolates and a mocha onto the table.
“What? Are you going to drink two hot cocos or…” He trailed off as Elodia held up three fingers and did a small countdown. And as if on cue, the sound of a door opening and closing echoed throughout the building and the small trail of soft footsteps were heard.
Colver entered the bakery wrapped in a thick fuzzy blanket and went to stand by the table.
“Ah… Morning bud.” It was actually midnight.
“Morning…” Colver mumbled back.
Cyril smiled underneath his mask. He was the only other person that Colver will speak with.
“Made you hot chocolate, mi pajarito.” Elodia slowly slid the cup towards Colver.
“Thank you…” Colver mumbled.
Cyril watched as Colver took the cup and walked back to his room.
“Is he always like that?”
“Only when he wants to sleep” Elodia smiled softly, “How the mocha?”
“Always been your specialty, don’t even need to taste it to know that.” Cyril sighed with content slipping his mask slightly up and taking a sip, “I don’t understand why you don’t like coffee.”
“And I don’t understand how you eat and drink with that on your face.”
“You just saw, didn’t you?”
“Just drop it…”
Elodia groaned, leaning her head back dramatically, “You suck.”
Cyril was busy sketching the clothes on the boutique side of Firefly Bites when he heard soft mumbling. Look towards the source of the sound, he sees Elodia’s head resting on her arms as she slept.
Flipping to a blank page in his sketchbook with pencil in hand, he started to sketch her sleeping form. The sketchbook was already filled with sketches of her.
‘Cute like a snickerdoodle.’