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Ah; human furniture. Matrix couldn't help but giggle a bit as Empusa playfully investigated a couch, and her tail wagged lightly as she came over. She ran her hand over the fabric and took note of a blanket folded neatly over the couch's back. It was impossible to argue that bare rocks and dirt were more comfortable--at least physically, for she knew that human things still mentally perturbed some, especially from the older generations. Her ears continued to twitch gently as she listened for sounds of movement (especially from upstairs), and she wondered if they ought to stay in this room until they were found. It seemed like the polite thing to do, but it certainly did not satiate any curiosity about what remained behind closed doors--and so far, it didn't seem like anybody was home.
After testing one of the couches and confirming its comfortability, she peered into the other rooms on the ground floor quickly and made her way to the staircase. If anybody was here and hadn't noticed them yet, she didn't want to surprise them or give the impression that they were sneaking around. Again she offered an inquisitive bark--it echoed strangely up the stairs, and then she was met once more with silence. She held her breath for a moment, and listened harder. Finally, with a resigned shrug, she looked around for Empusa.
"I'm going to check out the kitchen," she told her. Matrix had noticed it in her quick survey before, and she wanted to see what sorts of things were there. Various objects were littered across the counter tops, many of which seemed irrelevant to the preparation of food. Inside of some cabinets she found several pots and pans, and she tapped on one absently. The metallic ring was dull and faded quickly, although it sent her mind off on a series of tangents. She had eaten cooked meat before, but she couldn't really form an opinion on it. Fresh, warm kills would always be best. To some extent, cooking old food replicated the effect--at least the warmth. It was much drier, though, and less bloody... and that she didn't like. Of course, there was always the "seasoning" that she could add--eating marijuana produced a markedly different high than smoking it, and it had to be heated for the actual drug to be released. Eating it plain, fresh off of the plant wasn't enough, and she knew it. Lost in her thoughts, she continued to stare almost wistfully at the pots and pans.
