Sigh no more, no more
Who: Ifalna dances2silence and Veld chief_mendacity
When: After Veld arrives home from the hospital
Location: Veld's apartment!
Rating: PG
Summary: Someone has to make sure Veld is eating well while he mends. And since everyone seems so busy... a new helper arrives! From the dead! How fun is this place?
Felicia was a wonderful young lady, Ifalna decided. Just exactly like her father in all the best ways, and very much her own person in even better ways. She hadn't made a single protest at the older woman's arrival, particularly when she stated she was an ollllllld friend staying in town and certainly didn't mind helping out.
That and the batch of sweet rolls might have been persuasive. The remainders lay on the kitchen table until Ifalna wrapped them up and tossed them in the bread box. She bustled through most of the house, dusting, decluttering, and finishing up the laundry. Everything was so sooty, so dusty: all the apartments around where like that. Everyone who could be spared was out working from sun-up to sun-down with the earthquake clean-up. The Cetra smiled sadly as she worked, praying for the hearts of those forging through the planet's growing pains.
Soon, it was time to fix lunch for her as-yet-unsuspecting charge (he was sleeping--he was so... peaceful when he slept). Pots and pans clanged, several soon bubbling on the stove or broiling in the oven. She was cleaning as she went, as well as making out a grocery list on her trek through the cabinets. Enough food of several ethnicities magicked themselves together under her skilled hands as the radio increased steadily in volume.
"Love... will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free..."
The curvy brunette danced, bare feet slapping across tile as her dark pink sarong swayed in time with her hips.
"Be... more like the man... you were made to be..."
In between stirring her concoctions, she beat time with a wooden spoon as she sang in an earthy mezzo soprano.
"There... is a design, an alignment to cry, of my heart to see..."
Rolling up the sleeves on the shirt she borrowed from Veld's closet--bracelets jangling, she found a mitt and opened the oven.
"The beauty of love as it was made to be..."
"Needs five more minutes!" As the door closed, she thought she heard stirring from another room and smiled.
When: After Veld arrives home from the hospital
Location: Veld's apartment!
Rating: PG
Summary: Someone has to make sure Veld is eating well while he mends. And since everyone seems so busy... a new helper arrives! From the dead! How fun is this place?
Felicia was a wonderful young lady, Ifalna decided. Just exactly like her father in all the best ways, and very much her own person in even better ways. She hadn't made a single protest at the older woman's arrival, particularly when she stated she was an ollllllld friend staying in town and certainly didn't mind helping out.
That and the batch of sweet rolls might have been persuasive. The remainders lay on the kitchen table until Ifalna wrapped them up and tossed them in the bread box. She bustled through most of the house, dusting, decluttering, and finishing up the laundry. Everything was so sooty, so dusty: all the apartments around where like that. Everyone who could be spared was out working from sun-up to sun-down with the earthquake clean-up. The Cetra smiled sadly as she worked, praying for the hearts of those forging through the planet's growing pains.
Soon, it was time to fix lunch for her as-yet-unsuspecting charge (he was sleeping--he was so... peaceful when he slept). Pots and pans clanged, several soon bubbling on the stove or broiling in the oven. She was cleaning as she went, as well as making out a grocery list on her trek through the cabinets. Enough food of several ethnicities magicked themselves together under her skilled hands as the radio increased steadily in volume.
"Love... will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free..."
The curvy brunette danced, bare feet slapping across tile as her dark pink sarong swayed in time with her hips.
"Be... more like the man... you were made to be..."
In between stirring her concoctions, she beat time with a wooden spoon as she sang in an earthy mezzo soprano.
"There... is a design, an alignment to cry, of my heart to see..."
Rolling up the sleeves on the shirt she borrowed from Veld's closet--bracelets jangling, she found a mitt and opened the oven.
"The beauty of love as it was made to be..."
"Needs five more minutes!" As the door closed, she thought she heard stirring from another room and smiled.