... well, no. it's not morning. it's two in the afternoon... give or take, considering how frieren feels. drowsy. a little bit unfocused. and wondering, logically, what to do with the sea of unfamiliar things in the kitchen.
her two ponytails are drawn up loosely, not quite as put together as they were on the first day. here's today's adventure: she looks at the cupboards. opens the cupboards. goes on her tiptoes and streeetches to try to peek at what's inside. closes the cupboards. goes to the other small appliances scattered around the room. nothing is familiar, except for the pots, pans, basics. but you can't quite eat pots. she picks one up anyway, observing the dents and bumps of something used, and thinks again.
she could collect some firewood? where? and... ]
Mm... can't start a fire with magic.
[ so it may not be that useful after all. what else...? ]
... Maybe the choice is simply bread.
[ oh, what a pathetic display. this little elf, mumbling to herself tiredly about how plain bread will never let her down. ]
[The first thing to notice about this little... fae? Is that she's clearly sleepy. It's the afternoon, and she's still half out of it.
Okay, not everyone is a morning person, sure, but with how her ponytails look about to tumble free and with how blearily she's looking around at everything, this goes past just not being a morning person.
And really, he's almost content to leave her to it - after ducking into the kitchen to grab a blood bag from the fridge (ew... but he's making do here without any willing donors as yet...) but then she seems to settle on... bread.
Plain bread.]
Surely toast would make a better breakfast, no?
[We're putting a pin in that 'magic' comment to put out feelers on if she knows what a toaster even is. Or does.]
[ 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. ]
[He doesn't have anything against plain bread! But with the wealth of food options around, it does seem like a shame to just have plain bread for breakfast...]
Magic? Ah, you've lost things, here, too?
[No judgement about being unacquainted with Madame Toaster, but he will pull it down from the shelf... because it's not the same in the end! Indulge in the delicious options, Frieren! Even if the delicious option this time is toast. Probably with butter and jam.]
Is that why you're so tired?
[...Probably not, but like. Maybe. It's worth asking, while waiting for the toast to, well, toast.]
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linknet2024-07-25 08:00 pm
8/4ish
... well, no. it's not morning. it's two in the afternoon... give or take, considering how frieren feels. drowsy. a little bit unfocused. and wondering, logically, what to do with the sea of unfamiliar things in the kitchen.
her two ponytails are drawn up loosely, not quite as put together as they were on the first day. here's today's adventure: she looks at the cupboards. opens the cupboards. goes on her tiptoes and streeetches to try to peek at what's inside. closes the cupboards. goes to the other small appliances scattered around the room. nothing is familiar, except for the pots, pans, basics. but you can't quite eat pots. she picks one up anyway, observing the dents and bumps of something used, and thinks again.
she could collect some firewood? where? and... ]
Mm... can't start a fire with magic.
[ so it may not be that useful after all. what else...? ]
... Maybe the choice is simply bread.
[ oh, what a pathetic display. this little elf, mumbling to herself tiredly about how plain bread will never let her down. ]
oh she eepy...!
Okay, not everyone is a morning person, sure, but with how her ponytails look about to tumble free and with how blearily she's looking around at everything, this goes past just not being a morning person.
And really, he's almost content to leave her to it - after ducking into the kitchen to grab a blood bag from the fridge (ew... but he's making do here without any willing donors as yet...) but then she seems to settle on... bread.
Plain bread.]
Surely toast would make a better breakfast, no?
[We're putting a pin in that 'magic' comment to put out feelers on if she knows what a toaster even is. Or does.]
🥱
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. ]
no subject
Magic? Ah, you've lost things, here, too?
[No judgement about being unacquainted with Madame Toaster, but he will pull it down from the shelf... because it's not the same in the end! Indulge in the delicious options, Frieren! Even if the delicious option this time is toast. Probably with butter and jam.]
Is that why you're so tired?
[...Probably not, but like. Maybe. It's worth asking, while waiting for the toast to, well, toast.]