#c!luna

c! ///

Phil and Luna had worked together during Doomsday. He thought things were fine between them. 

He thought they were on good terms. 

He remembered helping in the kitchen- the three of them shuffling around the almost to-warm kitchen. The smell of warm broth on the stove, him chopping up carrots. Soft chatter between them, the sound of bubbling from the pot on the stove, the wind blowing the light snowfall outside against the windows. The mess of weapons, materials, potions, brewing stands, and paper all strewn about the rest of the cabin, except for the kitchen and the hastily cleared dining table.

 Techno leaning in over him, ‘explainin’ how to cut them properly, guiding his hands around the knife, and Luna letting him even though he could do it just fine [not to mention, less sloppily] on his own. His pink hair falling in Luna’s face as he leaned his face in closer, nestling his face in the crook of his neck, making himself shorter to get closer. Luna laughs at his remarks softly, but he can’t remember what he’d said to him anymore.

Phil chastises them for being silly, laughing at their little moment, and tells them to stop messing and get the carrots in the pot before they go rotten or something. He couldn’t remember.

Right, Gods- Phil.