in a world where you can be anything, be kind
The smile on her face broadens, cannot help but stretch and pull at the corners of her lips at Asterion’s initial reaction. Fiona dips her head to him, too, as he finally steps within the warmth of her home and leaves the world outside to its soft summer morning. His expression is so boyish, so full and wide and it reminds her of wonderful things.Of magical things and childhood and her shoulders shake in what would have once been a silent laugh, but now it is accompanied with the gentle sound of her laughter, dancing in that nowhere space between their thoughts. Oh, Fiona can sing her happiness, her joy, she can laugh with the ones she shares her time with. She can voice her love, for she so deeply cares about so many. And know it they might, but to be able to tell them… She only wished her father were still around so that she might be able to tell him.
“I am never unprepared for guests,” Fiona responds in kind, still smiling, as he brushes past and she follows him into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? I have a pomegranate tea chilling, or water if you prefer?” She pauses, adjacent to him at the island when he passes her the teas and spices. Her lavender gaze browses the parcels with great joy and she can already imagine all the things she might make with them.
“Thank you, Asterion; I will think of you when I use them,” she says, and holding them gently as a precious bundle—any gift, given of the heart, is of course—turns to set them upon the counter behind her. At his prodding, she laughs again, a soft, musical sound. “The mystery is wearing off, then?” Fiona asks, turning back toward Asterion with a half-smirk.
She sets a napkin before him, for the rolls, and then her expression grows more fond as she remembers. “It was during the gift exchange, this past winter,” Fiona remembers how she had released that pressed flower, golden petals with a deep obsidian center, over the cliffs. Not so much as a wish, but in gratitude.
She is so thankful, so fortunate, to have Atreus in her life.
“Atreus asked me to meet him there, at the top of the cliffs. He had a little bottle full of a blue liquid,” she stops here, thinking about the tiny vial, “From the appearance it reminded me of healing potions or potions of youth from fairytales… it tasted horrible however.” She shook her head, a smile turning up the corner of her blush lips.
It had tasted bitter, and bland, all at the same time, and had lingered in the back of her throat for a very long time. “But, however he made it—whatever it was—after awhile I was able to speak,” Fiona shrugged a little sheepishly, eyes bright, “Well, sort of.”
@Asterion <3
