(no subject)
[The morning after this...]
Late to bed and early to rise, Abigail is bright-eyed and smiling, evidently quite pleased with herself, and sweeping the floor with a bounce in her step that hasn't been there in quite some time. Thomas had blinked in surprise when her usual morning grunt of greeting had been followed by a quick, sisterly hug of affection and just as quickly retreated to the kitchen where things made more sense. Abigail let him, happy to indulge her own complex thoughts while she sweeps, the sort that make it hard to carry on a conversation. Humming is a different matter, and she's doing a fair bit of that as she turns about the tavern like a grand noble lass twirling away at her first court ball.
Life carries on, earth-shattering news or no, and the tavern needs to be in tip-top shape for the day's custom before she goes hunting for a certain youngling by the name of Jamie of Olau. He owes her news; she owes him a spice cake.
Late to bed and early to rise, Abigail is bright-eyed and smiling, evidently quite pleased with herself, and sweeping the floor with a bounce in her step that hasn't been there in quite some time. Thomas had blinked in surprise when her usual morning grunt of greeting had been followed by a quick, sisterly hug of affection and just as quickly retreated to the kitchen where things made more sense. Abigail let him, happy to indulge her own complex thoughts while she sweeps, the sort that make it hard to carry on a conversation. Humming is a different matter, and she's doing a fair bit of that as she turns about the tavern like a grand noble lass twirling away at her first court ball.
Life carries on, earth-shattering news or no, and the tavern needs to be in tip-top shape for the day's custom before she goes hunting for a certain youngling by the name of Jamie of Olau. He owes her news; she owes him a spice cake.