🥱

[ what does celeste have against plain bread? frieren is here, holding her two slices that she's managed to pull out of a bag, and she was going to eat them. but now celeste is here, and it somehow feels as if she shouldn't.

she looks at her bread.

it's not shame about being caught in the middle of being a mess that stops her, really. it's a trained hesitation, as if she's used to someone making better, smarter suggestions. ]

I can't. My magic...

[ toaster? never knew her. ]

It's okay. It's the same in the end.

[ even if it's more delicious the other way. but it's fine. cope, she'll cope. sleepy, mumbled coping. ]