#jeaneula

Hi there, 

There is some Eujean food haha. Just had fun with some incorrect quotes and quick scketches lol

"Heartless, they called me. As if I was the heel under their chest, or that my breaths were stolen from theirs!"

Although said with a harrumph and her nose upturned, Jean knew that Eula had no intention of ridding herself of those people. She's a Knight of Favonius, after all.

"Thank you for your good work, Eula." Jean was fairly learned in the art of diplomacy and the various indirectness that nobility demanded, but they both knew to spare each other its frivolities.

At least, not when it was Eula's thorn in her heel and Jean's heavy burden.

She took a sip of her tea and frowned; "If my existence is an act of heartlessness, a stronger breeze would knock them down just as easily."

"Hopefully, they will never have to face a breeze stronger than a rain's calling."

"Of course," Eula said, and Jean smiled. A knight indeed. She glanced towards something, then returned her gaze to Jean's. "And what do you know of heart, Acting Grandmaster?"

I thought I hid it away!

Jean coughed, gathering herself.

"That is... to live following where your heart sways towards." When she realised that there was more truth there than she thought, she continued. "To know yourself and the things you find must exist, and you ought to make them so."

"What a chivalrous answer."

She coughed again, heatedly aware of the red staining her cheeks. "And what do you know of heart, Spindrift Knight?"

"I'll save that for our final parting."

She probably didn't want to talk about it, then. Jean poured more tea into her cup. Her own was empty.

On these occasions, Eula would storm into the room, her greatsword in hand, and the tea would be quickly drained to spare her throat some pity.

I'll make sure to keep the book in its place after this.

Eula drank from her cup, but paused.

"Is there something wrong?" She had tasted the tea beforehand in making sure the sweetness was just right, but it wouldn't surprise her if a mistake slipped past. Her thoughts have been scattered lately... She'll need to talk to Lisa about that.

"Your manners extend to the pointless of things," Eula sighed. "What use is there two teacups but only one being drunk from?"

"Ah..."

Without preamble, she took her empty teacup and poured some of her tea in, then nudged it back to Jean's direction.

She had read Vera's Melancholy multiple times, yearning for the scales that would never tip in equal adoration from two people. And still—she did not know if that's what love felt was.

That love felt so silken and spider's thread, and she felt anxious at the prospect of a wrong word spoken or a gesture wrongly interpreted would lead to a rift, then a ravine, then a cavity that ate and ate until there was no affection to be found.

Instead, as she gazed at the now-present tea in her empty cup, she wondered if love could be like this, too. Not all gold-and-silver spooned, not with bouquets or the clever tongue, for it was a thorn to Eula and a burden to herself.

Perhaps then, like this; love born from a wish shared together. Love that splits like dandelion seeds, a wish carried by the wind, into another, then another, then another. Love that came from disregarding etiquette, that made itself known. Love like Eula Lawrence.

"Now we have two cups of tea and only one person is drinking. Did I perhaps miss the sign of this meeting being that of a pity party?"