My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room
Aidon happily let himself be used as a pillow for Edmund to lean against, wrapping himself protectively around the boy, lifting his head to nuzzle against his cheek before his head on his claws. The Nightshade laughs softly, tickled by his manners, but expecting nothing less from her boy. She shifts to make him a small plate of cookies and carefully passes him the hot chocolate before setting the plate before him. "Of course, petite étoile." Maeve hums, grabbing her own plate and picking up one of the buttery sugar cookies, taking a bite and letting her eyes close as the sweetness spreads across her tongue.
Chasing it with a sip of hot chocolate, the Nightshade turns her attention back to her son, "Which one do you want to open first?" Maeve motions to the various packages that are stacked up beneath the tree. All of them are different sizes and shapes. No two looking just alike.
Chasing it with a sip of hot chocolate, the Nightshade turns her attention back to her son, "Which one do you want to open first?" Maeve motions to the various packages that are stacked up beneath the tree. All of them are different sizes and shapes. No two looking just alike.
Maeve
