Lena’s plans for the evening had been simplistic at best, especially after her recent ventures in King’s End. Storms were always a prevalent thing, but being soaked to the bone and coated in mud even had the most patient and compassionate individuals seeking solace – so after checking in the Celestine and making her usual rounds, she and Mittens had retired to their home, a wonderful thing to think about again. After a nice warm shower and scrubbing away the layers of dirt, soil, and earth, she’d tied her wet hair back in a simple braid, humming to herself, tending to the fire in the hearth and the gentle roar of its flames, before opting to coincide with some easy dinner. And maybe some cocoa.
By the time she’d rustled something upon the stove and plated it – uncertain if Zavien would be coming over or not, she wasn’t surprised to hear him flicker into the house, but more of the hastiness. The speed in which he flew across the kitchen left her wary, nervous, on edge – the last time they’d had any kind of rampant discussion had been disastrous, melancholy, and damning – so she couldn’t help the width of her eyes or the bout of apprehension, even if he seemed excited and eager, rather than disheveled and despondent. “Are you okay?” was the first thing pried out, but before she even had time to add anything to her hot chocolate or take a first bite, she was steered towards the living room and the couch.
Mittens had already begun glaring, hovering from its corner, but the way Sol seemed proud made her all the more confused. Glancing back and forth between companion and Dragoon, she opened her mouth, shut it, then swallowed down the usual bile that came with abrupt news – uncertain what to expect. Protectively, she started to curl back into the cushions, tugging at her robe so the fluffy, fleecy components covered her knees and hid her from impending doom. “I…think so? Did something happen?”
By the time she’d rustled something upon the stove and plated it – uncertain if Zavien would be coming over or not, she wasn’t surprised to hear him flicker into the house, but more of the hastiness. The speed in which he flew across the kitchen left her wary, nervous, on edge – the last time they’d had any kind of rampant discussion had been disastrous, melancholy, and damning – so she couldn’t help the width of her eyes or the bout of apprehension, even if he seemed excited and eager, rather than disheveled and despondent. “Are you okay?” was the first thing pried out, but before she even had time to add anything to her hot chocolate or take a first bite, she was steered towards the living room and the couch.
Mittens had already begun glaring, hovering from its corner, but the way Sol seemed proud made her all the more confused. Glancing back and forth between companion and Dragoon, she opened her mouth, shut it, then swallowed down the usual bile that came with abrupt news – uncertain what to expect. Protectively, she started to curl back into the cushions, tugging at her robe so the fluffy, fleecy components covered her knees and hid her from impending doom. “I…think so? Did something happen?”
Lena
