Beauty is power; a smile is its sword.
Eden stared blankly at the multicolored array in front of her. Circles, circles, and more circles . . . some were metallic rimmed, sunken cylinders with mostly solid colors. Ice cream. Others were petite, perfect circles, with cream of a complimentary color oozing barely out of the sides. Macarons.
She breathed in the dryly warm air of the bakery, whose focus on moist, decadent cakes presented a direct contrast to the literal atmosphere. Everything was warm, and absolutely homey though.
Her lower incisors dug into her upper lip and tugged insistently at it as she rolled over in her head what to order. Likely, the not-so adventurous adventurer might end up with an exceedingly tame chocolate chip cupcake or slice of red velvet. Eden had always been enamored by the idea of house and local specialties; in fact, she admired how beautiful and unique they were. That didn't change the fact that the silver haired female was afraid of biting into something and detesting its concept and intended flavor. It was one thing to eat a crappy chocolate cupcake and another thing completely to eat the most fantastic peanut butter and jelly tart in the world.
Yet neither were yummy to Eden. The girl was so picky that this task really shouldn't have been left up to her; the bridesmaid's job today was to just test out a few shops and see if any possessed sufficient quality, but later her duties would include actually picking the cake flavors-- icing, the batter itself, etc. The bride, groom, and most of the party were vampyres and didn't actually prefer the taste of sweets.
On a whim she turned a slight bit to her right. The girl had been standing just behind the end of the line, so as to not give off the impression that she was waiting to place an order or make a purchase. Once her eyes had caught some nonspecific person, the female tried to wave to them cheerfully. If that failed to catch their attention, she would happily take a few or as many steps as necessary over to their location, hopefully not in an unwanted manner.
"Hey, what's the best flavor ? Or your favorite," she prodded with a sincere question in her eyes. More than one answer would be better than acceptable. One would already exceed her expectations, and a null response would just be the ordinary.
A brawl or spot of rude attitude would be sorely unwelcome, so she hoped that the stranger she had picked by chance would have an even temperament on this day.