calofdunbroch:
Callum had all but forgotten the ‘good little deed’ he’d done by the time he got to that booth. At that point, he was busy making loose sketches in oil pastel against the toned tan sketchbook, forms and figures without much of a direction just yet as to what he was going to draw. So when the girl had appeared at his booth and began speaking, he was taken a bit by surprise. He thought she wouldn’t reach out to thank him or anything. He’d paid her drink and wandered off, wasn’t that a sure sign that the interaction was over? But this girl seemed a bit insistent on thanking him. Brow furrowing as she talked about potatoes of all things, the young man looked her in the eye and nodded. “It’s really nothin’, ye dinnae have to thank me for it,” he responded, resisting the urge to add that it was what his mothers would have wanted him to do. She didn’t need to know that and he didn’t want to belittle what was clearly a very kind gesture for her.
Woefully ignorant to exactly who he was speaking to, Callum had not registered exactly why this young woman was having such a rough week. If he had allowed himself to pay a tad more attention, he would have realized that this girl was the former girlfriend of the king. If he’d cared to pay attention to the love lives of his peers. Which he didn’t care about, so he didn’t have an inkling as to what had troubled her, and he didn’t feel the need to push. He wasn’t the type to gossip or to really get involved so he wouldn’t ask the young woman what had made her week so difficult. Instead he just smiled and nodded at her, expecting the interaction to end there. She had other plans for them.
It wasn’t the first time that someone had mentioned either having dated or being related to an artist when witnessing Cal in work. It happened a lot, actually. When she mentioned an ex being an artist, he wasn’t sure how else to react than to kind of offer an awkward half-smile. Glancing between his sketchbook and the girl, he decided to take a sip of his coffee before suddenly saying, “And ye? Are ye an artist?” He winced internally at his own words. Why did he even ask? What was he trying to do? Start a conversation? Heavens no. Callum wasn’t really sure how else to react. He was socially inept, for crying out loud! A problem which only became worse when, unprompted, the girl slid into the booth - Beside him. Now he was pretty sure the correct thing to do was slide in opposite the other person in the booth. Who actually shared one side of a booth? Smothering, grossly in love couples? Yikes. He felt a wave of anxiety crawl up i his spine, forcing the prince to stand straighter and more alert.
Half turning his head to face her, a single brow lifted up towards his widow’s peak, the young man flashed a curious set of blue eyes at the girl and she began speaking. “Callum,” he responded. “My name is Callum.” He wanted to scoff when she commented on him not being from around there. He could have said the same, judging from her London dialect. Or somewhat of a London dialect - the accent lacing her words was definitely British sounding but something made it seem oddly foreign to the boy who grew up in Scotland. Almost like she learned English from a Brit but not in Britain. “Last I checked, no,” he replied after a beat. “I’m from Scotland,” he answered the unspoken question, “The Highlands, if we’re being specific. Kingdom called DunBroch.” He loathed the idea of saying much more, but he added, "Queen Merida’s territory. Perhaps ye’ve heard of it?”
Now, one thing about Ela was that she loved being around others. Years of growing up isolated from society and finding companionship in only her parents and the gorilla’s, as well as other wild animals in the African Jungle, the girl had found herself drawn to know more about each person she met - their interests, their unique traits, what made them tick. Which made her blissfully ignorant to introverts and their desire to... just not engage. The fact that he asked her about herself only open the doors wider as she began comfortable in her seat. “Oh no, not at all. My mom could sketch a little and she would always try to show me but I think I take after my dad a little more on the artistic side of things. Swinging on vines, climbing, taking care of wildlife.”
Once he offered his name, she made mental note to try and remember. “Callum, that’s a nice name.” She offered before taking a sip of her drink and letting him continue to explain his origins. Honestly, Ela was not the more worldly person. She travelled alot, but mostly just back and fourth between Africa and Auradon - and even that was challenging at times with the cost of fares and flights. She knew of Scotland of course, but once he began specifying he might as well been talking about the moon. “I haven’t! But I’d love to hear more about it. Do you miss it?” perhaps it was kind of an invasive question to ask a stranger but, Ela knew how homesick she would get from time to time and there were comfort in numbers when it came to those kind of feelings, she figured.
“I’m from Africa. Deep within the Congo rainforest. Technically it’s my dad’s territory but he’s less of a ruler and more of a protector of the Troop.” she stated easily, as though she was stating that the sky was blue or the grass was green. He reputation as jungle girl was something that she kind of rolled with now, unphased by weather it was a term of endearment or not at this point. After a beat she realized he might not know what a Troop is. “That’s a group of Gorilla’s” she added, just for clarification. “But my mom’s from London, England. Originally. That’s kind of close to you right? We’re practically neighbors.” she joked, gesturing between the two of them as she did so.
