#dawningcrow

Ohh, for some reason these remind me of Hiromi Kawakami’s People From My Neighborhood. It’s a collection of vignette-sized stories set in a small town in Japan, all quite odd but presented in a mundane way. Someone on Goodreads called it ‘minimalist magical realism’. Little bites of strangeness.

As for the cookies that are delivered with care, I can't help but to share them with some fellow Eliksni. Probably also gonna store a good amount on my ship, just in case history repeats itself.

Crow blinked at the tin, seemingly unsure. Marinochka chuckled lightly and wiggled the box with a playful raise to her eyebrow. Crow reached out and grabbed the offering. He handled it with cautious, uncertain hands, his eyes flickering from the festive wrapping to the older Hunter’s face. “Go on,” she laughed, bemusement clear in her voice. “Open it.”

He hesitated, looking at her one last time with questioning eyes before carefully pulling the ribbon and opening the tin. He set the cover down on the snowy rooftop they were standing on. He paused, staring at the contents before a small smile bloomed across his face, “Marinochka...thank you,” he spoke, voice as quiet and gentle as a cool winter’s breeze. He takes a tentative bite and hums before speaking, “What is in these? They’re amazing.”

“Chocolate and almonds,” she responds, watching as he quickly eats three more. “I’m glad you like them.”

“I...thank you, truly. I don’t have anything to give you in return...”

“No need, it’s a Dawning Gift.”

He hummed quietly, placing the cover back over the tin. He fiddled with his hands before speaking again, looking out over the snowy horizon, “I...I like the Dawning, the decorations, the feeling in the air, the snowy weather. It’s quite easy to forget we hang on the brink of inhalation with enemies on all sides.”

She grunted, leaning backward on her hands and ignoring the cracking sounds from her back, “Hmm, yes, sometimes it’s a necessity to let oneself forget the worries and pains of this life.” She turned to him and saw the reluctant look in his eyes, saw it in the way he wrung his fingers, saw it in the way he opened his mouth and quickly closed it, saw it in the way he quickly turned his whole face away from her. She remained silent, her lips pressed tight in a firm line, shifting her body slightly closer so their shoulders brushed, feather-light, in a show of silent support. Crow doesn’t shy away from the touch, which leaves her delightfully surprised somewhere in the back of her mind. He turns back to look at her suddenly, opens his mouth again, and closes, looking down. She decides to double down and shifts again so they are sitting shoulder to shoulder. When she speaks, it’s soft and patient, like she’s trying to coax a scared animal. “The Dawning is also a time to celebrate comradery, and all we have managed to save.”

“I...” he met her eyes, “I’ve never celebrated the Dawning with others...this is,” he paused, pressing his lips together before continuing, eyes flickering away from her form, “...its nice.”

She smiled sadly before bringing her arm up and over his shoulder, feeling guilt at the full-body flinch the younger gave at the movement. She placed her arm down over his shoulders and gently tucked him into her side. Crow was tense under her embrace, his shoulders taught, fidgeting fingers stilled, and breath baited. “Well,” she began quietly, affection clear in her tone, “I’m honored to be the first person you celebrate it with.” Crow relaxed, his shoulders relaxing, the breath he was holding was let out in a huff. He carefully leaned his head over, resting his cheek lightly on her shoulder.