Birdee
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Birdee
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Kook's blood relative
Don't you know a family with that one person you keep wondering if their parents really took the right newborn home from the hospital that time?
The one where you think, how is it possible that SHE is related to THEM?
With the legendary great-great-grandma, the tuberose, which sometimes pompously calls itself 'Agave polianthes', which most people only know from hearing smells, but which is reported to be beguilingly beautiful. (Others, however, think it has the charm of a giant, grumpy celeriac, but that doesn't detract from the legend.)
Or with the primordial Fracas, the Resolute, who straight-up slaps her bubblegum opinion into everyone's olfactory organ, regardless of whether it's in the form of partial anosmia or a migraine.
Or with the others named Poison, Loulou, Giorgio or Eden, all of them loudly whooping, funny, plump and not to be over-scented aunts, with whom you like to have your fun.... but then also glad when the door closes behind them and peace returns.
Or all the numerous cousins like Cèdre, MMMM..., Do Son and Truth or Dare, who are, well, the daughters of those aunts.
And let's not forget tragic cousin Mahora, who is constantly squeezing her too-exuberant flesh into too-expensive and too-tight clothes, and who would sooo love to be what this 'relative' is here:
A serious, pale young woman who, with her crisp dryness, obviously never perspires (how does she do it?), who doesn't have an ounce too much on her powerful firm body (how does she do it??), who can sit bolt upright for hours on end (how does she do it???), in a skin-tight, floor-length dress of iridescent powder-pink silk, without the dress getting a single wrinkle (how does she manage... oh, never mind), while nonchalantly mastering the most boring of conversations without letting it shine through how bored she is by it all.
Where does she get this strength?
It is the power that the others shout out unrestrainedly and which thus fizzles out unused. It is the power that lies deep within her and that makes its way outward as acerbic, cool, unrelenting sophistication. It is a quality that none in her family even begin to possess.
Unlike all her related tuberoses, she appears like a completely bloodless flower, only to blossom into a thoroughbred lady as a result.
She lives on her own planet, and perhaps she wonders on many a night, when her crisp, dry skin glistens especially beautifully in the moonlight, as if dusted with a little powdered sugar, and the moss gently fans out its tangy scent to her in special soft billows, how it can be that she is related to all these other tuberose scents. But she would never ask that question aloud, of course, because there is far too much natural nobility in her for that.
She is now once a class of its own.
Yes, and Mahora? Now there she has tried so hard and managed to marry into a highly respected house, only to realize that even the Guerlain name is of no use if you've gotten the wrong genes.
She could puke every time she sees her cousin XPEC
The one where you think, how is it possible that SHE is related to THEM?
With the legendary great-great-grandma, the tuberose, which sometimes pompously calls itself 'Agave polianthes', which most people only know from hearing smells, but which is reported to be beguilingly beautiful. (Others, however, think it has the charm of a giant, grumpy celeriac, but that doesn't detract from the legend.)
Or with the primordial Fracas, the Resolute, who straight-up slaps her bubblegum opinion into everyone's olfactory organ, regardless of whether it's in the form of partial anosmia or a migraine.
Or with the others named Poison, Loulou, Giorgio or Eden, all of them loudly whooping, funny, plump and not to be over-scented aunts, with whom you like to have your fun.... but then also glad when the door closes behind them and peace returns.
Or all the numerous cousins like Cèdre, MMMM..., Do Son and Truth or Dare, who are, well, the daughters of those aunts.
And let's not forget tragic cousin Mahora, who is constantly squeezing her too-exuberant flesh into too-expensive and too-tight clothes, and who would sooo love to be what this 'relative' is here:
A serious, pale young woman who, with her crisp dryness, obviously never perspires (how does she do it?), who doesn't have an ounce too much on her powerful firm body (how does she do it??), who can sit bolt upright for hours on end (how does she do it???), in a skin-tight, floor-length dress of iridescent powder-pink silk, without the dress getting a single wrinkle (how does she manage... oh, never mind), while nonchalantly mastering the most boring of conversations without letting it shine through how bored she is by it all.
Where does she get this strength?
It is the power that the others shout out unrestrainedly and which thus fizzles out unused. It is the power that lies deep within her and that makes its way outward as acerbic, cool, unrelenting sophistication. It is a quality that none in her family even begin to possess.
Unlike all her related tuberoses, she appears like a completely bloodless flower, only to blossom into a thoroughbred lady as a result.
She lives on her own planet, and perhaps she wonders on many a night, when her crisp, dry skin glistens especially beautifully in the moonlight, as if dusted with a little powdered sugar, and the moss gently fans out its tangy scent to her in special soft billows, how it can be that she is related to all these other tuberose scents. But she would never ask that question aloud, of course, because there is far too much natural nobility in her for that.
She is now once a class of its own.
Yes, and Mahora? Now there she has tried so hard and managed to marry into a highly respected house, only to realize that even the Guerlain name is of no use if you've gotten the wrong genes.
She could puke every time she sees her cousin XPEC
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