[P] always in my head

[Fang]

Fang

He had retreated for a short while—taken a couple of months to withdraw from the bustle and attention of civilian life. He had detached himself from the population of Denocte, leaving the city walls behind in favor of the wilds, readily allowing himself to be swallowed by the solitude of the thick trees and various fauna. The boy had needed it, needed time to heal…again.

Requiem is…
lost.

(Simply lost, he tells himself, because his fragile mind and bleeding heart cannot handle considering the alternative). First Vasanta, then their home, then Adira, and now Requiem. If the gods had died in cinders and ruins, then Who or What is it that continues to assault him this way? His life is but a lowly tapestry, and Someone has taken their hallowed needle to deliberately rip each thread from the next, until he is left frayed and wounded and broken. Irreparable, perhaps? There are days he thinks so, when the grief is too heavy and the heartache is too raw, that he fears he is too, too far gone.

Fortunately, this is a day he doesn’t feel like he is foundering quite as deep as he has been. There is some relief from the weight that hangs over his shoulders, and his lungs feel mildly less tight in his chest. Taking advantage of this respite, however brief it might be, the boy finds himself soaring just over the surface of Denocte’s glassy lake. Occasionally one of his hooves droops to skim the polished surface, but he hardly notices—his attention is drawn to the wooden structure resting on the lakeshore.

Angling his broad wings, he veers around to what he assumes to be the entrance, his large frame landing heavily among the dewy grasses before he wanders up the steps. “Hello?” The boy murmurs, his voice quiet and not entirely meant to be heard. Aromas of various herbs and spices suddenly wash over him, and he smiles softly, his thoughts wandering to spontaneous flowers and delicate fluttering wings.


tag; @Caelum
“…”

x | x

[Caelum]

She moves with a purpose that is all her own - in a zone of her own creation. Small hooves dance across the floor of the empty shop, swaying to some music that only she able to hear; humming beneath her breath. At each pause, series of herbs and medicinal remedies are stocked into their spots. Jars filled with carefully preserved items, small packages with preground herbs ready to be added to a tea for a quick fix. Small, wrapped hardened molasses type candies to feed to foals to help give them the medicine they didn't take so willingly. Everything was being reorganized, put in it's proper space along the various shelves along the back wall. Around her, a glowing red ball followed those movements, casting that eery red glow on everything around them. As she swung to the side, the ball dived away, watching as flowers scatter out around her equine companion. The delicate arch of flowers that seem to be growing more and more determined to not be chased away. Both Caelum and Tiana wonder how long before her shop has a living floor of florals.

It's a bittersweet reminder of the powers she's gotten so used to, that she hardly does more than ignore the flowers nowadays. She instead turns back to the duty at hand, her song picking up an octave as she hums the next set of lyrics, swaying around the shop, tidying up random messy pillows, smoothing table clothes, rearranging the silk draperies so they're no longer tangled. She spins again, ivory locks swirling around, wings fluttering and shedding that iridescent glitter into the air when she hears the intruder - hooves upon the steps outside. She spins towards the door, hair chaotic, and eyes wide in surprise; before she feels her heart clench.

It's not a red stallion she sees at first; in the shadows of the covered porch. The leathered wings, the fangs, and glowing red eyes wash his skin black. His cautious appearance briefly morphs into the demonic facade of Trey in all of his glorious, cocky tenderness. Playful gaze, twisted smirk that promised her all kinds of thrills and chills. She could almost hear the dark, tempting whisper of Princess in the air. The ball of red energy is quick to move, however; and the spirit swirls around the stallion in greeting, her red glow purposely lighting up the covering so that his red pelt became visible, and Caelum could shoo the phantom memories of her lost love aside. One breath at a time, Caelum. It's not him . . . We both know he doesn't get to come back.

Caelum forces herself to smile in greeting, "Tiana, leave the gentleman alone. I apologize for her; she has only just recently found freedom beyond the confines of her necklace; and I am dreadfully sorry for her eagerness to meet others." She makes the excuse, the lie seems easy -- how shameful; for the Summer Queen to be able to lie so easily. Trey had corrupted that about her as well. Her demonic mate had eagerly pulled her away from that picture-perfect princess image. She continues to chase down his memories, to crumple them up - lock them in the chest-deep, deep, deep down in her heart. "Please do come in, it has been rather slow; unfortunately; and so I thought to take advantage to restock my supplies; but I am always happy for a customer." She teases, with a friendly smile fitting more easily on her muzzle now that the surprise appearance was over, and her startle was settling.

"I have not seen you around Denocte proper lately, Fang. Have you been well?" She asks, both as an offer to catch up, and an assurance she remembered him, A queen doesn't forget a face; remember that Caelum. You should always remember the names of our subjects; it lets them know you think of them. How silly such lessens still impacted her day-to-day even as she runs from that birthright now. "Oh, and forgive my lack of manners; welcome to Fae Gardens Emporium; the finest establishment for quick remedies, and a perfect cuppa." She adds, laughter drifting off her tongue as easily as the flowers trail off the end of her steps as she readies a teapot of hot water, instinctively setting up a tea service to treat her guest with. Plus it gave her a chance to finish settling the last of her nerves.

She hadn't realized how similar Fang's appearance when shrouded was to Trey . . . and the wound of Tiana coming back as a spirit companion instead of Trey hadn't fully healed yet.

Perhaps the friendly company was just what the doctor ordered, however . . . .

A perfect distraction from the reopened heartache.

“Talk.”

(Alternate color for thoughts).

@Fang

Running out of fucks that I can give to you
But you can still be pretty on the inside, too
Your heart's so cold, but I love the way you lie
Should've seen the red flags, but for you I'm fucking blind

x | x

[Fang]

Fang

Fang isn’t sure what to expect as he lingers on the broad wooden porch, or if he should even be expecting anything. In any case, he is caught off-guard by the luminous red sphere that suddenly appears from within the tea shop, fluttering close around him. Large, round ears tip back in confusion, the embers of his eyes narrowing for half a second before they widen, watching this strange orb of light. His gaze is soon drawn towards a familiar voice, and the rugged lines of his expression quickly soften from his apprehension. “Tiana…?” The stallion questions at first, before realizing that this peculiar glowing orb is, apparently, sentient and named. “Oh. Well, hello then, Tiana,” he directs his greeting towards the rosy sphere, his lips quirking as he tries not to feel awkward about it.

Returning his attention to the blue mare, he steps forward at her invitation, trying to match her friendly grin with a gentle one of his own. He has half expected her to have forgotten him—their meeting was months ago, and grief has a way of shrinking one’s self-image into a hollow shadow—but his fears are chased away by relief when she not only acknowledges him by name, but also inquires after his recent disappearance.

(Someone had noticed?)

“I—” the boy falters, unsure how to answer. He’s alive but broken, barely-scabbed wounds torn open again as he pines for the familiarity of ruby-red eyes and soft, golden-tipped hair—he doesn’t want to voice this, though, because he is tired of being broken. He is tired of grieving, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. So the large stallion rolls his shoulders in a shrug, and swallows against the tightness in his throat. “Yes. I’ve been well enough. Doing better now, I think,” his lips curl around his canines into a small smile, a shell of his former delight, but one he knows he can manage. Maybe if he says it enough, he’ll start to believe it, and then it’ll become true.

Following Caelum, he watches the flowers that bloom at her feet, somehow put at ease by their spontaneity, with the tones of her laughter briefly softening the raw edges of his mourning. Releasing a heavy sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Fang finds himself settling comfortably in her company. “Thank you. I was passing by and figured it’s about time I take you up on your offer; better late than never, right?” Now it is his turn to laugh—a low, humble sound.

Taking a moment to glance around, he appreciates the silky fabrics that billow over the walls, their satiny pleats highlighted by twinkling lights that play in the folds. Behind clusters of pillows and chairs, he takes note of a counter and shelves, assuming the rows of small jars and bundles of herbs to be part of the supplies she mentioned earlier. Everything about it is warm and inviting. “This is a nice place, Caelum. Very cozy,” he says with genuine praise, imagining (for a moment) that a shop like this would have fit perfectly within Blue Sage Meadows. “Now—” Fang continues quickly, before the ashes of memories darken his thoughts again, “—I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve had a cup of tea. What would you recommend?” He looks to Caelum with playful expectation.


tag; @Caelum
“…”

x | x

[Caelum]

Caelum treated the majority of the world the same way - as treasured individuals who ought to be greeted with warmth, care, consideration and of course kindness. Whether it was a stranger station with rocks growing from his skin, or a sooty young stallion, still growing back ruined feathers, or red demon-like stallions. THey all are treated with that same warmth. From Luvena, to Sebastian to Vikander when she can find the proper words to actually formulate when he is around. (Although, if she's properly aware of herself, she'd be the first to admit how terrible she is about formulating words when Vik was around - a poised princess she was not, when he was near by).

Fang, however, while hardly more than an acquaintance was far easier to talk to, and as he seemed to startle back as the red spirit of an orb swirled around him, lighting up his pelt, helping her see it wasn't the form of Trey come back to the dead that she had first seen, and instead someone else. As he repeats her bonded's name, the red energy seems to brighten, glowing a bit warmer, practically twinkling in response, before it circled around him, twice; at the greeting, "I am so dreadfully sorry about her; she is not socially aware just yet. But she means no harm. Although; I would expect her to have more class then that. Invading another's space." The spirt had sprinted back to her, and hovered before Caelum, clearly sassying her, even if only Caelum could hear it.

There was a bittersweet warmth in Caelum's eyes, laughing freely at what the spirit had told her; but the pain in her eyes still blossomed as Tiana once more proved she shared the same energy, same personality as Trey had once. She shouldn't be surprised that his sister would be so similar to him, Tiana had practically raised him after all - yet she couldn't help the clench to her heart. "She apologizes, if she were to have alarmed you just now. But she has not yet been able to meet many visitors, and apparently could not 'resist the temptation to see what this land has to offer.' I had long ago discovered, it is sometimes best to just roll your eyes when a Morgan gets wild in such a manner." Her smile briefly falters, before she reinforces it quickly enough, "Her brother was far more wild than she, of course; so I hope to prove that if I had been able to handle Tremaine Morgan, Tiana Morgan will certainly be no trouble for me. But it may take time for Denocte to become used to her energy."

Speaking his name out loud was getting easier at least. Slowly.

She turns her focus to the stallion then, inviting him inside, questioning on how he has been, only for her eyes to cut towards him quizzically when he falters in his response. He rolls his shoulders then, a shrug; but she's watching his eyes, seeing something there. THe sort of thing she would see in the mirror if all of the ones in her home wheren't mysteriously broken or covered up. Finally he does find a response, stating to be doing well enough, better now, or so he thought, and she nods, her expression non judgemental, but kind, "Sometimes the real challenge can be taking each day for the day - but I have been also learning that living for today and not worrying about tomorrow until it arrives has soothed much of my own thoughts." She doesn't offer details, just as he was keeping silent on his own grieving.

There was a time to talk about it, and there was a time to not.

And so she ventures further into her shop and home, flowers growing and blossoming upon the slowly increasing living carpet she had given up on containing. She sees his gaze on them and she smiles faintly, "I have given up trying to keep my floors floral free - I find it is easier to just let the foilage stay." There is a strange tenseness to the corner of her muzzle as she looks around her shop, "Makes it feel more like Summer, more like home. I have yet to decide if I like it or not." Most of the time it wasn't so bad, but on those are mornings, bleary eyed, not fully awake, she can walk out into the main shop, not fully aware of where she was, and the set up would push her right back into the heart of her kingdom. Those days made the past all the more difficult to acknowledge.

In time she knew she would come to appreciate her own slice of the Summer Court in Denocte; but she wasn't there yet. Not just yet. SO instead she returns her attention to him, smiling when he spoke of taking her up on her offer and this time she beams brightly, her eyes lightening up, turning the dark walnut of her gaze into soft, warm chocolate; "Well, you are of course more than welcome! I always treasure a visitor when I receive them. It has been unfortunately quiet lately, so the company is surely to not be turned away."

He then looks around, and the little fae goes still, her eyes wide, waiting anxiously. It takes all of her control to not bite, and worry at her lip - praying, as she usually did when someone sees it for the first time; that they will like it. THey will appreciate the warmth, the twinkling lights of fireflies, and mage lights - the tidy medicine wracks. Satiny, colorful fabrics against the wall, as if in a marquee; pillows inviting one to lay down and relax in their comfort. He praises, calling it cozy, and nice and her smile is the brightest it has been. The flowers around her hooves blossom a bit brighter, and the pink hyacinth that blossomed around her temple, with in her mane was the most notable proof of her delight and platonic affection at his words.

"Thank you, it means so much to me when others express such positive thoughts on what I have built up here." She graciously accepted his words, before blinking at his comment of what she would recommend. Instantly, her gaze took on a playful gaze, twinkling as she lifted to the air, delicate filmy wings carrying her around him, urging him to take a seat among the pillows, "Sit, sit, let me treat you!" She declares, immediately turning towards her bar, and flying over the top, "Hmmm, There is much I like, But I have a soft spot for fruity flavors in my own teas, and the majority of those are not available to the public." She explains with a laugh while leaning against her bar, "It is never a good idea to partake in the food of the fae. Not unless you wish to become dependent on it. It is how my ancestors would kidnap others, you know. Encourage a mortal to take part in our fare, and then they cannot live with out it."

She laughs, almost awkwardly, "So I mark the fae treats to make sure no one accidentally eats one. Now, for someone who has not had a tea in a fair bit of time, perhaps it be best we start you with simple. Some soft chamomile, a bit of honeysuckle, sugar cane; and some peppermint to round it out" She makes up the tray, adding a platter of various treats made with raspberries, apples and blackberries, "Try this, and hopefully you shall enjoy it. There are some pastries here too, made fresh this morning. I have gotten into the habit of keeping them on hand in case Aeon stops by. Blackberries, Raspberries and Apple Filling - nothing dangerous, I assure you."

“Talk.”
(Alternate color for thoughts).
Tiana - the soul spirit

@Fang

Running out of fucks that I can give to you
But you can still be pretty on the inside, too
Your heart's so cold, but I love the way you lie
Should've seen the red flags, but for you I'm fucking blind

x | x

[Fang]

Fang

“No need to apologize, either of you,” he reassures the blue mare with a small grin, the fire of his eyes following the gleaming sphere of light as it (she?) whirls around him in what he can only assume is excitement. Caelum explains the orb’s curious energy, and the boy can’t help but tilt his head in interest. “I wasn’t alarmed—startled, perhaps—but I will admit, I am curious…I have yet to see the likes of Tiana before. What is she, exactly? A ‘Morgan,’ you called her? I have never seen one before,” he looks to Tiana with a crooked grin, unaware of his error in understanding—after all, how could he know that this ruby light was ever a person?

He turns then, following Caelum inside her shop, trying to shed his grief from his shoulders like one would shed a coat (if the coat was made of iron, and molded to his shoulders until it is no longer a simple coat, but as much a part of him as his heart or lungs).

She encourages him to live for today, instead of bothering himself with tomorrow’s uncertainties, and the red stallion has to glance away for a moment to hide how his brow furrows. What am I supposed to do when I can’t stop worrying about yesterday? There is an instant when the agony returns, etched into every line of his expression, when the weight of loss makes his chest feels tight and it is hard to breathe. He inhales slowly through his nose, a shuddering sound, before he clears his throat and turns back to his host, his paper-thin façade straining.

Shuffling his large hooves to avoid crushing a flower, Fang takes note of the sudden tension in her voice when she mentions the blossoms that follow her hooves. He remembers what she said when showing him the Night Court, how her magic is a final gift from her parents (“A reminder of what I could not be”), and so in an effort to ease whatever anguish shadows her now, he simply looks them over, and grins. “I like it. I like it a lot,” there is a low hum in his tone, wistful and genuine. “Of course, I’ve always had an affinity for plants—I used to be able to manipulate them, you know, and speak to them. With my magic,” he chuckles breathlessly. Caught up in the bliss of memories, the boy almost goes to demonstrate, to show her what beautiful power Vasanta had blessed him with, but that muscle is no longer attached to anything. Those ethereal ties had burned and vanished with his goddess, his home, his companion…

His everything.

Forcing himself to remain rooted in the present and not get swept away in despair, the boy clings to Caelum’s delight when she brightens at his praise. The twinkling of her joy is contagious, and he is happy to be treated by her expertise. Lowering himself to rest among a plush heap of pillows, he listens as she explains the dangerous nature of her people’s food, and how it can enslave the mortals with its enchanted ingredients (I was not always mortal, once…)

He forces a smirk.

“That is interesting. I didn’t know the fae people were so crafty,” one side of his brow rises in mock suspicion, though his ember eyes brighten playfully. It is a pleasure to watch the blue mare in her element, flitting about the back of her shop as she prepares tea and pastries. He is impressed with the array she presents him. “It all smells delicious—you really do this all yourself?” He licks at a raspberry tart before setting it aside, eager to taste the tea she’s prepared. Sipping gently at the hot drink, he immediately appreciates the blend of earthy and sweet that washes over his tongue. “Mmm. I am no connoisseur of tea, but wow that is good. You certainly know your flavors. How you’re not constantly swarming with guests, I’ll never know,” Fang laughs, more hearty now, as he feels the comforting warmth of the tea seep from his belly to his bones.


tag; @Caelum
“…”

x | x

[Caelum]

The mare smiled in response to the fiery-eyed red horse at his assurances that no apology was needed, dipping her head in acknowledgement, "Well, I still apologize for her startling you - then. As for Tiana, she is a spirit, what is left of a soul. Her full name is Tiana Morgan, Morgan being her family name." The fae offered by explanation, smiling as the red ball of energy came back to her and swirled happily around Caelum's body, "She was my . . . . " She pauses, and there's a flash of emotion in those brown eyes that is at odds with the easy smile that Caelum usually wheres. She powers through it however, "She is the sister of someone who was once very special to me when he was alive. I may no longer have Tremaine's company - but I shall forever be grateful for Tiana's presence."

How hard it was to pretend her own grief wasn't waiting below the surface, burning hot in her chest, as she tried to crumble it into a smaller ball to shove deeper down inside. Far deeper inside, consider how Tiana's arrival had reminded her so strongly that Tremaine would never be able to come back. She looks into her shop, motioning for the stallion to follow her, he doesn't respond to her quiet encouragement, and instead, she cannot help but watch the flash of agony that outlines his expression, and she feels her own heart drop in response, "I am not the sort who will press another for details in a situation where they may be unable to talk - but should you ever need to unload your thoughts, my door is always open, and I am always willing to listen." She simply offers, reaching out almost hesitantly, as if afraid he will burn her for the touch, but still managing to strengthen her resolve to offer the reassuring touch of her muzzle to his expansive shoulder. "But I will not express the offer again. If you prefer to forget it exists, so let it be; but should you wish to act upon it - you only need to let me know you accept."

It was easier helping others heal, than attempting to heal herself. She smiles when she notices him shuffling his way around the blossoms, "You need not worry about stepping upon the blooms, I fear they are rather resilient in my company. I have yet to discover what it takes to make them go away." She promises before her entire existence seems to brighten at his approving words, his declaration of liking it. She is surprised to hear him state he had an affinity with plants himself, able to speak and manipulate them. She looks at him in surprise, before smiling beautifully, "As a young filly; I had been enraptured with nature. I've always been able to grow it, certainly - my people are known for such abilities, but I've not imagined any fae able to speak with the plants, that must be quite the experience." She pauses then, almost hesitating, "Well, perhaps that is not quite true. While I cannot speak and understand the plants on such a level; i tend to understand them on a deeper level. It is . . . difficult to explain." It was part of being in the ruling class of the Summer Fae. Summer sang to her, and in response, the vegetation did too.

"When I first came to Novus, my own magic, the magic of the fae; had been locked away. Perhaps, you too will find your magic again?" She offered with a quiet understanding of how he must struggle to not have it now. When he comments on the fae being crafty, Caelum spins with a wickedly playful glint in her gaze, "Of course we are, we like the power over others. My people can play music that will force you to dance forever. We will steal your apologies and thanks as if they are favors you owe to us. We never lie, but we are careful and crafty with the truths we offer. And when we give you a promise, we keep it, and will ensure you do the same." She pauses, and the glint to her gaze, the ease of the smirk that plays on her muzzle is distinctly not fae. It comes from Tremaine, the demon lover who had nurtured her crafty side and made it something more, "Some of us are merely worse than others. I am thankfully not so interested in being crafty myself - but should I ever be . . . well, I once courted a demon-horse; and cannot say he did not taint me with his own unique personality traits. I fear I learned just as much from him, as he had from me."

As he takes to the pastries, however, she smiles at his declaration of them smell delicious as she nods quietly when he took a sip of the tea, speaking as he distracted himself with the treats before him, "For the most part, yes; though certain days, I also sell the wares of other various merchants, to provide them an additional reach of clientele. But the tea, and medicinal products are certainly my own work. I've always been fond of the creation of tea, being able to do so now is . . . rewarding. As for this place not being swarming with guests, I do believe a large portion of that may come from how far I am from the main hustle and bustle of the markets. Why come all the way out to Vitreus Lake, when there are other shops among the merchants one is already shopping from. I cannot hold it against them for not wishing to come this far out. I still have many regulars, and my medicine reaches a various amount individuals, so I am not hurting on income. But I also welcome any repeat customer I may gain, so perhaps you will have to come back, once you discover you shall not find another cup of tea as fine as mine?" She declared with a playful grin.

“Talk.”
(Alternate color for thoughts).
Tiana - the soul spirit

@Fang

Running out of fucks that I can give to you
But you can still be pretty on the inside, too
Your heart's so cold, but I love the way you lie
Should've seen the red flags, but for you I'm fucking blind

x | x

[Fang]

Fang

Tiana Morgan—a family name. “Oh,” the red stallion gasps when he understands his mistake, realizing now that Tiana is much more than a sphere of shining energy, “I see. A spirit.” He looks at the orb in question with a new appreciation and curiosity, wondering now about her past, and how she ended up here at all. He parts his lips, the questions building and hanging on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out before he stops himself, and instead exhales with a soft grin. There was a time when Fang would have pressed Caelum for more information, when his curiosity knew no boundaries, but he knows better now—he knows how chipping at another’s walls can aggravate old wounds, how the scars bleed when they are not ready to be reopened. Now, he respects her silence, and subdues his questions for another day, perhaps.

It would seem that the blue mare understands all this as well. Fang’s large ears tip forward when he feels her touch upon his shoulder, listening to her words of comfort, his heart warmed by the sincerity in her offer. “Thank you, Caelum, truly. My heart is heavy, as you’ve probably noticed—I’m terrible at hiding it,” he shakes his head at himself, embarrassed by the fragility of his façade. Heaving a large, slow sigh, his fiery eyes rise to meet hers from where they had fallen. “The offer is reciprocated, by the way, should you ever need it. I’m here too, and a good listener, or so I’ve been told,” his grin skews affectionately to the side. Briefly, he reaches to press his muzzle against her shoulder, just as she had to him.

Withdrawing to follow her inside, his gaze softens when he looks to the blossoms at her feet. She insists that he doesn’t need to worry about crushing them, but Fang treads lightly anyway. Sharing his own relationship with plants—the magic he used to have—is bittersweet, but he is eager to hear about Caelum’s history with nature. Unlike her, he has not always appreciated it as he does now; it was Vasanta’s gift that had opened his eyes.

She suggests that he might find his sorcery again, and he nods, quiet at first before he gives a short smile. “Perhaps,” he hesitates, his chest twisting painfully as his heart pines for the Goddess he has lost. Would it be the same, if not given to him from Vasanta? Would he even want it then? “I think…I think I would like that,” the boy decides, hoping that finding his magic again would not be a way of replacing the Spring Goddess, but of keeping Her with him. He would very much like that.

With the pain in his chest quickly dulling to an ache he has become accustomed to, Fang appreciates the blue mare’s animation as their conversation continues. She is lively in her telling of the craftiness of her people, which draws out a good-natured smirk from his stiff lips. “Well! I should count myself lucky, then, that you are the fae I’ve been acquainted with. I’ve only met one fae before, a long time ago, in a world far from this one. She was delightful as well,” he hums pleasantly as he recalls Thumbelina, and their silly games as they hunted for treasured shells along the beach. It was a simpler time then—he can’t help but wonder if he will ever find himself doing something like that now. Something so meaningless but utterly delightful. He would like to think so.

It’s funny how people change, how he has changed. “It’s impossible to not be influenced by those who are dear to us,” he thinks of Bella and Requiem, and beloved friends he has lost, “but I think it’s good to be well-rounded. I will say, regardless of whatever traits you might fear, I’ve enjoyed your company.” He looks up at her from his place among the pillows, smiling through the curls of his forelock before he shakes them to the side.

Taking another long sip of tea and a bite of pastry, Fang can’t help but groan with pleasure. “You have certainly found yourself another regular,” he grins boyishly as he chews, licking his lips once he swallows. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but I prefer the wilds to the city myself, so I’ll likely be out this way anyway. And I doubt there’s any tea and pastries that can compare to yours. Are you sure you haven’t enchanted this?” He teases her with a narrowing of his eyes, taking another sip while eyeing her over the brim of his cup. Setting it aside, he can’t help but break his joke to chuckle deep in his throat.


tag; @Caelum
“…”

x | x