LOREN
Amalia’s reaction to Loren’s compliment was surprising, to say the least. Hopefully he wasn’t the first person to have praised her cooking. Given that she was a baker, she probably heard that her food was good every day. However, that didn’t mean his was any less sincere. ”You’re welcome. And you’re probably right.” He paused for a moment to have another bite of stew, then glanced over at her. Maybe he should try for some small talk. It couldn’t possibly be more awkward than sitting here in near silence. ”How did you learn to cook and bake?” That was hopefully a safe enough subject.
Unlike LongNight, which was always fraught no matter who he talked to, given the danger involved. Of course, the summoner knew more about the baker’s plans than she probably suspected. When she asked about his own plans, though, he sighed and placed his half-full bowl on the ground. ”Wessex has stationed me at the Temple. But I’ve heard a little bit about what everyone at the Guild will be facing. So...I don’t know.” No doubt Amalia would have strong opinions about this. Pretty much everyone else did.
Astra, sensing his distress, looked up from where she was munching happily on some oats. She trotted over and knelt by his side; almost unbidden, his fingers came up to stroke softly against her fur. It was much better than thinking about the coming darkness or looking at the baker’s reaction to his admission.
Unlike LongNight, which was always fraught no matter who he talked to, given the danger involved. Of course, the summoner knew more about the baker’s plans than she probably suspected. When she asked about his own plans, though, he sighed and placed his half-full bowl on the ground. ”Wessex has stationed me at the Temple. But I’ve heard a little bit about what everyone at the Guild will be facing. So...I don’t know.” No doubt Amalia would have strong opinions about this. Pretty much everyone else did.
Astra, sensing his distress, looked up from where she was munching happily on some oats. She trotted over and knelt by his side; almost unbidden, his fingers came up to stroke softly against her fur. It was much better than thinking about the coming darkness or looking at the baker’s reaction to his admission.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
