May 7
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"Hm? A most curious cry for aid, indeed, but I don't see any-..." "Blink twice if you require assistance!"
Beau Regard
@saephrond
Hungry wasn’t good to describe it. Evie wasn’t even sure if hangry could work either. At the moment, all she knew was that she was starving and no one in this whole damn place knew how to cook!
That wasn’t to say that things weren’t edible, and that all the dishes didn’t taste good. They were just… fine. It didn’t feel like how food should feel. It didn’t bring that comfort that a good home cooked meal with love should. It didn’t give her anything to look forward to like how her mom’s chili and her dad’s gumbo would.
All it did was provide nourishment. No delight and no warmth.
That’s why she was standing at the stove at 8 PM, stirring a pot of grits, flipping over bacon, and watching to make sure her fried eggs didn’t burn. She wanted something hearty and filling-something that reminded her of home when her family was so far away.
Every light was on to account for her dimmed vision, but she would tilt the glasses up every now and then to make sure she didn’t ruin the food. Evie breathed in the scent as she hummed an absent minded tune. So what if everyone seemed to run from her when she walked by? So what of the hushed whispers when people noticed her? All that would be forgotten and stowed away with good food.
At least, she hoped it would.
In the Wadewater, the reeds sway even when there is scarcely any wind. I do not trust that. And yet, it is beautiful in its own mournful fashion. Grey waters surrounding forgotten Elven ruins beneath a blue sky and the graceful families of swans drifting across the delta. I suppose there is something comforting to find in sorrowful places that still carry life so softly within them.
✨ Saephrond for @saephrond✨
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The Wadewater. It stirs a boyish urge in me to skip stones and see how far they'll dance across its ripples.
"Come now, every shrew to the garden! It is a rare Elven tradition to line you up and see who of you flies the farthest!" Saeph commanded almost guiltily, yet by the time he ushered the little uggos along, they'd already piled into the small area, their squeaks fading among the flowers and pots. He turned to Maengamiel, meeting her with an embarrassed chuckle. "Well, I…had thought to let you invite the shrews into the garden if they wished, but it seems they have instead volunteered themselves for a rather undignified fate."
Oh, Corunir.
These Dwarves looking at me like, "You believe him?"