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Vanilla - Around the Campfire
Main Entry
Timeframe : 1240's
It was just the two of them, an armload of kindling, and Lyssa’s penchant for matches. Ski lay back on the grass, the soft carpet of dew laden blades gently folding beneath her, newly risen stars blinking above, and set to peeling the wrapping from a cake.
Lyssa peered over the blaze, a ruddy glow flicking over her features, a long, sturdy branch in one hand. She gave the logs a jab, and the flames leapt with a pop and a crack. “Got one for me?”
“No,” said Ski, even as she pulled another from the pile. “I thought I should keep them to myself.” She tossed the cake her sister’s way, and Lyssa snatched it from the air.
The branch secured under her arm, Lyssa tore the cloth from her cake and tossed it to the ground. Mouth open wide, she looked from the morsel in her palm to the pile beside Ski and made one bite of the thing. Ski shook her head and nibbled a corner of her own.
“Wha‘?” said Lyssa, around a mouthful of food. “No’ like there i’nt plenny more.”
Ski followed her gaze to the mound of cloth wrapped pastries. “However fast you eat them, you still get half,” she said, tossing her another anyway.
Lyssa frowned, or at least she supposed it was a frown; it was hard to tell the way her cheeks were still bulging. Ski scraped another corner from her cake with her teeth. Lyssa swallowed hard, making more room for words. “You’re going to take all night to eat that one, aren’t you?”
Ski hoisted the cake to arm’s length above her and slowly turned the thing this way and that. Lyssa’s eyes fixed on it, her tongue slid over her lips, and Ski grinned. “Yes,” she said, “I think I just might.”
Just the same, an hour later, when Lyssa reached for the last tiny package, which, by Ski’s count, clearly was hers, tucking it into her palm without so much as a "please," she assured herself she was full.
Main Entry
Timeframe : 1240's
It was just the two of them, an armload of kindling, and Lyssa’s penchant for matches. Ski lay back on the grass, the soft carpet of dew laden blades gently folding beneath her, newly risen stars blinking above, and set to peeling the wrapping from a cake.
Lyssa peered over the blaze, a ruddy glow flicking over her features, a long, sturdy branch in one hand. She gave the logs a jab, and the flames leapt with a pop and a crack. “Got one for me?”
“No,” said Ski, even as she pulled another from the pile. “I thought I should keep them to myself.” She tossed the cake her sister’s way, and Lyssa snatched it from the air.
The branch secured under her arm, Lyssa tore the cloth from her cake and tossed it to the ground. Mouth open wide, she looked from the morsel in her palm to the pile beside Ski and made one bite of the thing. Ski shook her head and nibbled a corner of her own.
“Wha‘?” said Lyssa, around a mouthful of food. “No’ like there i’nt plenny more.”
Ski followed her gaze to the mound of cloth wrapped pastries. “However fast you eat them, you still get half,” she said, tossing her another anyway.
Lyssa frowned, or at least she supposed it was a frown; it was hard to tell the way her cheeks were still bulging. Ski scraped another corner from her cake with her teeth. Lyssa swallowed hard, making more room for words. “You’re going to take all night to eat that one, aren’t you?”
Ski hoisted the cake to arm’s length above her and slowly turned the thing this way and that. Lyssa’s eyes fixed on it, her tongue slid over her lips, and Ski grinned. “Yes,” she said, “I think I just might.”
Just the same, an hour later, when Lyssa reached for the last tiny package, which, by Ski’s count, clearly was hers, tucking it into her palm without so much as a "please," she assured herself she was full.