Turning of the Stew – Velania – 05/04/2022
Apr 24, 2022 10:53:50 GMT
stephena, Andy D, and 2 more like this
Post by Velania Kalugina on Apr 24, 2022 10:53:50 GMT
Continuing some time after the events of Velania Stops Staring at Her Feet
Many thanks for the post-session conversation section, with Marto Copperkettle <3
THE GIFT OF TIME
Late again! Really? My date with Coll was only a week away and there was still so much to work out. What had been stealing time from me these past weeks? I had planned my morning so perfectly. Up before dawn at the Temple of Selûne, throw another test batch of muffins into the oven at the Temple kitchens, set a kettle to brew, say my prayers, rustle up the tarts, get dressed, finish my chores, catch up on my correspondence, pack for today’s expedition, rescue the muffins, pack all the baked goods, get to The Anvil and The Almiraj for the job, and have time for a quiet pot of tea and some reading before anyone else arrived.
Instead, I lost a slipper, broke my last hairband, was late for prayers, ran around in a daze, had to crumble the burnt bits off the muffins, threw extra sugar and spice onto them and hoped for the best, and packed them anyhow. When I had run halfway to The Anvil, I realised I had left a boiling hot teapot untouched in the Temple vestry. It would have to wait.
High Diviner Rholor would be grumbling about that all day.
Before I arrived in Kantas, I used to manage my time so well. What had made me fall apart now?
I hurried into The Anvil and The Almiraj to the booming sound of laughter. I recognised Kavel immediately. I’d never properly met the Goliath warrior before, but knew him by reputation alone, and by his kind, stoic smile. He and my sister-in-faith Nessa were gently ribbing Marto, the golden-haired Halfling I knew from the Temple. Marto’s fabulous new armour had a smoking effect, and the others were egging the landlord on, and comboing jokes about dousing him, saving him from the flames, not touching the furniture. I am sure I saw a distant sadness in his eyes, but he seemed to be taking it in his stride.
Personally, I thought it gave him quite the air of mystery. He’d turn heads making an entrance in it. Heads and hearts, no doubt.
Fortunately, I was not keeping everyone waiting, as Fog arrived at the same time as me. A Firbolg, tall and wiry and shy, dark in a serene and romantic way. He went sleeveless and was built for it. Although Kavel was broader, Fog was taller. They greeted one another as friends and I took to them both immediately.
Despite the landlord’s objections, I sneakily shared around pies, tarts, scones and muffins to gather feedback. Coll liked blueberries, and I needed to settle on something for our upcoming picnic. But everything I’d baked so far was a disaster.
Trust Nessa to have an immediate unfiltered opinion: the pies. I still don’t quite understand Nessa. Of course, I’ve known Aasimar to be detached from earthly matters, but she is a whole level of otherworldly. She is two parts wry observation and two parts young child. She lives in the moment. And views it with a magnifying glass. And then is immediately in the next moment. Something like an intelligent cat. I am very fond of her – I just cannot keep up with her.
It was only then that I noticed the blueberry stains up my sleeves. I was a mess. I was a state. Everything was going wrong. I silently begged for the floor to open up and swallow me.
THE GIFT OF LOVE
Our employer was Rahmina O’Sheehan, a Half-Elven representative of the Turning Fields Autonomous Farming Collective. She had a good heart, straightforward and confident, with her own martial past, but sought to put those days behind her. Hence we had been hired to find a source of serious contamination in their village stream. There were old kruthik warrens in the hillsides, yet the pollution did not sound like kruthiks. Whatever the source of the poison sludge, it was endangering the village, and they needed the problem dealt with. She met us at the Stone Gate on the west of Daring Heights in order to take us there.
The Turning Fields is a day’s walk west from Daring Heights, past the Hugging Stones and then south down the edge of the Sunset Spine mountain range, into a secluded forest. There, you will find the friendliest, most down-to-earth and homely village you could ever hope to visit.
I loved the Turning Fields the minute we arrived, and when we met Rahmina’s wife Maddie, and their son Theo, I felt as if they were family, even though we were strangers to them – we were “emotional orphans” as Theo wryly observed, before Maddy chided him.
Maddie had old scarring around her throat, which I guessed was a remnant of the previous kruthik troubles. She signed her welcomes and smiled with a warmth I have rarely seen before. We were invited into their home and in the space of an evening, she had intuited the ways to ease all our worries. We were fed with the most delicious turnip stew I’ve ever had. She comforted Marto, satisfied even Kavel’s appetite, and wrote out a blueberry pie recipe for me. I could tell it was a knockout recipe. She guessed there was a boy involved, and I babbled about Coll to her patient, maternal smile.
The Dawnlands are full of kind people, but it felt especially safe in the Turning Fields, and to have someone looking out for me. I miss that so often. I imagine many an adventurer dreams of making this place their home. The work is hard but the people here aspire to be kind and honest. It’s not hyperbole to say that it felt like the Turning Fields was a place built on love and respect.
Maddie saw into our hearts with the kind of empathy I aspire to. It is easy to spot greatness in acts of might, and harder to spot greatness in acts of love. But I saw it: Maddie is a great woman. I could only hope to become a woman like her someday. It would be a life well spent.
THE GIFT OF SILENCE
We were bid to keep two important secrets for the village. The first was the source of their extraordinary crop yields. An old artefact hidden in the mountainside imbued their stream with powerful magic. Despite this magic, the recent black sludge polluting the water meant that they were running off reserves, and crops were dwindling as a result.
They were not a wealthy village but had put together a fair payment for the work, and Rahmina wouldn’t hear a word of us turning the offer down. After all, the Turning Fields would die as a community if this problem were not resolved.
The second secret made itself known by trotting into the house later in the evening. A sweet little fox called Safi, who gently glowed in the dark. Safi was a protector of the village, watching for the presence of kruthiks and other hostile creatures. She spoke Common and explained that this talent had come from the artefact. She was to guide us into the old kruthik tunnels where she believed the source of the poison lay.
We settled down for the night. Marto, Fog and Kavel examined the water and ascertained that the toxic black sludge was the by-product of some kind of hag, a creature of Fey origin and pure malice.
Nessa and I made our preparations. I greeted Selûne as the moon rose above us and reflected on how much I had needed her recently. I prayed that she would be there with us when we faced this hag on the morrow.
In the morning, Safi led us across the fields, along the river, and up into the foothills of the Sunset Spine. There, she showed us the kruthik warren. She often went in there but always stopped at a certain point. Beyond was an underground lake, where the hag dwelt, and she dared not go further until “the scary lady” had gone. She described the hag as having “too-long” arms and legs, long black hair, and pointy teeth.
Sneaking in was not an option, and Safi said the hag attacked on sight. So we agreed that a full-frontal assault was our best approach. And so, at the entrance to the largest cave, we made our final preparations: Selûne’s blessings, protections, and illuminations, and Fog’s own frosted armour.
We made our way into the hag’s domain. We took our positions in silence.
THE GIFT OF REMEMBRANCE
Marto cast a stone into the waters, and scarcely before the ripples had subsided, a black slime bubbled to the surface and the hag arose with a gurgling growl. She had lank hair, savage talons, and pure evil in her eyes. She grinned malevolently. To her, we were just prey.
She slashed viciously at Fog, causing him to stagger back and shake off the poisoning effect of her claws. He retaliated with a flurry of arrows and attempted to retreat, invisible. But the hag struck him with another swipe, and he fell. Then, while Kavel and Marto struck away at her, the hag conjured a lightning bolt which passed through all of them – Fog included.
In the gloom, I could see that Fog was already passing from unconsciousness out of this realm. I knew it was not his time. I flung myself at him as fast as I could, fracturing my ankle and sliding face-first across sharp rocks. But I reached him, and Selûne was with us that day. I touched him and heard him gasp back to consciousness as I lay there, dizzy with pain.
Then I felt the kiss of Selûne upon us all, thanks to Nessa’s powerful connection. I gritted my teeth fiercely. After a bad start, we were back in the fight.
The hag continued to slash away, but Kavel and Marto pinned her and shrugged off her poisonous attacks – thanks to Nessa’s protection, and to their own strength and bravery. I grinned with satisfaction at how effective Marto’s armour was. They punished the hag dearly, and the tide of the battle started to turn.
In order to get to safety, I called upon my celestial ancestry and took flight to rise from the ground, my ankle throbbing ferociously. It gave me the chance to join my friends. One of the hag’s claws raked Marto savagely, and I saw his face paling, as poison started pumping through his blood. I reached out for him and set my hands upon his shoulders. “I’ve got you,” I said, and vitality surged back into his face. But the words had not been mine. They were Selûne’s.
Fog and Nessa shot the hag up with arrows and divine magic, while Marto and Kavel hacked away at her repeatedly. Before I knew it, the hag was no more. Marto and Kavel were splattered with foul black ichor, and we were all standing there, breathing hard.
I came to rest uneasily on one foot. Fog thanked me for the help, returning the favour with a different kind of healing, one based on smoke and darkness. It eased the pain somewhat and would give me enough mobility to get home.
At the bottom of the lake, we could see the skeleton of a dragon lying there. Resting beside it, we saw the faint glimmer of a sword. As we debated jumping in and claiming this for ourselves, Safi pattered into the cave, grateful that we had rid the place of the hag. She sadly told us the dragon – a small, white dragon – had been her friend, but had crawled in there several years ago and died. She was reluctant for us to retrieve the sword, which had belonged to the dragon in life. She was grateful when we agreed to let the dragon rest with its possession.
I do not believe it is foolish or materialistic to care about items, even beyond the grave. Our connection to them is as worthy as our connection to other people. Who is to say that only in life must material things matter? I felt glad we had honoured Safi’s wish and I sent a silent prayer of remembrance for the dragon. Whomever she had been in life, I wished the best for her in the next realm.
Then I uttered a dedication for the hag. Whatever the mystery of death may bring, it brings to all people, good or ill. She was a person too, and perhaps there are those who would miss her. I at least would remember her… even if nobody else did.
THE GIFT OF HOPE
The journey back to Daring Heights should have been merriment all around, but again I observed the concern knotted across Marto’s face. Even Nessa’s joyful singing did not break through to him.
I knew Marto was in a dark place. The Five Angels of Shar were causing tremendous suffering, and he had been on the front line of our defence more than most. I drew close beside him as we were walking, interrupting his thoughts. “Whatever I can help with, please let me know,” I told him with fierce sincerity.
He walked alongside me a while, and it was clearly a difficult journey to reach me from wherever his emotions had been holding him. “Thank you, Velania. I’ve got a lot to think about. A lot of feelings I need to sort through too. But… if there comes a time I need to speak to someone, I will keep your offer in mind.”
Whatever pain ailed him, I felt heartbroken for him. All I could do was keep the door open. “The journey of a lifetime is in coming to understand what is within yourself. It should never be forced or hurried, but accepted with an open heart.” These were words I was learning and relearning every day myself. I could only hope they rang true for him. “I am certain it will come to you, and when it does, you will always have people who care for you ready to listen.”
Perhaps it was a relief when Marto saw me wince as my injured ankle landed badly and changed the subject by asking if it was improving.
“Hm,” I replied, “this long walk back probably isn't going to do me any favours. Healing magic is a blessing, but I rather think I'll have to rest it properly a couple of days to be sure. I think I wounded my pride more than anything.”
He offered me an arm for support. I was glad for his strength and hoped it gave him his own strength within. Then glanced at the others. “Perhaps it should be Fog giving me a hand,” I said with a mischievous grin.
Marto grinned back. “Going from really short to really tall? I see how it is…”
I blushed and laughed. “I only meant to tease Fog about paying me back for my healing services... Did you know there are some miserly priests who charge for that kind of thing? Outrageous!”
“There’s all types in all walks of life, so that doesn’t truly surprise me…” Marto replied. “The value of life, though, is not something one can put a monetary price on.”
“I wonder if these… fiends seek pleasure in dividing us through fear, or hate, or greed. But you are right, you cannot put too high a price on preserving life…” – I glanced further down the road in the direction of Fort Ettin, wondering what Coll was up to today – “…or love.” The words just tumbled out before I knew what I was saying. I blushed hard and stared at the ground meekly.
Marto had fallen back into his own contemplations. I sent him a big hug in my thoughts. I was certain of my earlier words: Selûne did have him, and she held him close. But it was not quite the time for either of us to delve into our hearts further. But I hoped we would again, another day soon.
The mood did lighten for the rest of our walk back to Daring Heights. By the end of the journey, I felt reassured of many things. First and foremost, that I was excited about my picnic with Coll. And armed with Maddie’s amazing blueberry pie recipe, I finally felt in control. I was able to handle most of my nerves. Making preparations would become joyful again. Coll and I would have a wonderful time.
I couldn’t wait to see Evenbloom Hill. I couldn’t wait to hear more of his stories. I couldn’t wait to hear his gentle laugh. I couldn’t wait to spend the day with him and watch the sun go down and see the pixies play and smell the Evenbloom flowers opening up and let them cast their gentle purple light upon us.
It had been a long while since I had opened my heart up to the idea of romance, and I was giddy and thrilled and turned into knots in the best way imaginable. I couldn’t wait.
Continues in A Budding Romance
Many thanks for the post-session conversation section, with Marto Copperkettle <3
THE GIFT OF TIME
Late again! Really? My date with Coll was only a week away and there was still so much to work out. What had been stealing time from me these past weeks? I had planned my morning so perfectly. Up before dawn at the Temple of Selûne, throw another test batch of muffins into the oven at the Temple kitchens, set a kettle to brew, say my prayers, rustle up the tarts, get dressed, finish my chores, catch up on my correspondence, pack for today’s expedition, rescue the muffins, pack all the baked goods, get to The Anvil and The Almiraj for the job, and have time for a quiet pot of tea and some reading before anyone else arrived.
Instead, I lost a slipper, broke my last hairband, was late for prayers, ran around in a daze, had to crumble the burnt bits off the muffins, threw extra sugar and spice onto them and hoped for the best, and packed them anyhow. When I had run halfway to The Anvil, I realised I had left a boiling hot teapot untouched in the Temple vestry. It would have to wait.
High Diviner Rholor would be grumbling about that all day.
Before I arrived in Kantas, I used to manage my time so well. What had made me fall apart now?
I hurried into The Anvil and The Almiraj to the booming sound of laughter. I recognised Kavel immediately. I’d never properly met the Goliath warrior before, but knew him by reputation alone, and by his kind, stoic smile. He and my sister-in-faith Nessa were gently ribbing Marto, the golden-haired Halfling I knew from the Temple. Marto’s fabulous new armour had a smoking effect, and the others were egging the landlord on, and comboing jokes about dousing him, saving him from the flames, not touching the furniture. I am sure I saw a distant sadness in his eyes, but he seemed to be taking it in his stride.
Personally, I thought it gave him quite the air of mystery. He’d turn heads making an entrance in it. Heads and hearts, no doubt.
Fortunately, I was not keeping everyone waiting, as Fog arrived at the same time as me. A Firbolg, tall and wiry and shy, dark in a serene and romantic way. He went sleeveless and was built for it. Although Kavel was broader, Fog was taller. They greeted one another as friends and I took to them both immediately.
Despite the landlord’s objections, I sneakily shared around pies, tarts, scones and muffins to gather feedback. Coll liked blueberries, and I needed to settle on something for our upcoming picnic. But everything I’d baked so far was a disaster.
Trust Nessa to have an immediate unfiltered opinion: the pies. I still don’t quite understand Nessa. Of course, I’ve known Aasimar to be detached from earthly matters, but she is a whole level of otherworldly. She is two parts wry observation and two parts young child. She lives in the moment. And views it with a magnifying glass. And then is immediately in the next moment. Something like an intelligent cat. I am very fond of her – I just cannot keep up with her.
It was only then that I noticed the blueberry stains up my sleeves. I was a mess. I was a state. Everything was going wrong. I silently begged for the floor to open up and swallow me.
THE GIFT OF LOVE
Our employer was Rahmina O’Sheehan, a Half-Elven representative of the Turning Fields Autonomous Farming Collective. She had a good heart, straightforward and confident, with her own martial past, but sought to put those days behind her. Hence we had been hired to find a source of serious contamination in their village stream. There were old kruthik warrens in the hillsides, yet the pollution did not sound like kruthiks. Whatever the source of the poison sludge, it was endangering the village, and they needed the problem dealt with. She met us at the Stone Gate on the west of Daring Heights in order to take us there.
The Turning Fields is a day’s walk west from Daring Heights, past the Hugging Stones and then south down the edge of the Sunset Spine mountain range, into a secluded forest. There, you will find the friendliest, most down-to-earth and homely village you could ever hope to visit.
I loved the Turning Fields the minute we arrived, and when we met Rahmina’s wife Maddie, and their son Theo, I felt as if they were family, even though we were strangers to them – we were “emotional orphans” as Theo wryly observed, before Maddy chided him.
Maddie had old scarring around her throat, which I guessed was a remnant of the previous kruthik troubles. She signed her welcomes and smiled with a warmth I have rarely seen before. We were invited into their home and in the space of an evening, she had intuited the ways to ease all our worries. We were fed with the most delicious turnip stew I’ve ever had. She comforted Marto, satisfied even Kavel’s appetite, and wrote out a blueberry pie recipe for me. I could tell it was a knockout recipe. She guessed there was a boy involved, and I babbled about Coll to her patient, maternal smile.
The Dawnlands are full of kind people, but it felt especially safe in the Turning Fields, and to have someone looking out for me. I miss that so often. I imagine many an adventurer dreams of making this place their home. The work is hard but the people here aspire to be kind and honest. It’s not hyperbole to say that it felt like the Turning Fields was a place built on love and respect.
Maddie saw into our hearts with the kind of empathy I aspire to. It is easy to spot greatness in acts of might, and harder to spot greatness in acts of love. But I saw it: Maddie is a great woman. I could only hope to become a woman like her someday. It would be a life well spent.
THE GIFT OF SILENCE
We were bid to keep two important secrets for the village. The first was the source of their extraordinary crop yields. An old artefact hidden in the mountainside imbued their stream with powerful magic. Despite this magic, the recent black sludge polluting the water meant that they were running off reserves, and crops were dwindling as a result.
They were not a wealthy village but had put together a fair payment for the work, and Rahmina wouldn’t hear a word of us turning the offer down. After all, the Turning Fields would die as a community if this problem were not resolved.
The second secret made itself known by trotting into the house later in the evening. A sweet little fox called Safi, who gently glowed in the dark. Safi was a protector of the village, watching for the presence of kruthiks and other hostile creatures. She spoke Common and explained that this talent had come from the artefact. She was to guide us into the old kruthik tunnels where she believed the source of the poison lay.
We settled down for the night. Marto, Fog and Kavel examined the water and ascertained that the toxic black sludge was the by-product of some kind of hag, a creature of Fey origin and pure malice.
Nessa and I made our preparations. I greeted Selûne as the moon rose above us and reflected on how much I had needed her recently. I prayed that she would be there with us when we faced this hag on the morrow.
In the morning, Safi led us across the fields, along the river, and up into the foothills of the Sunset Spine. There, she showed us the kruthik warren. She often went in there but always stopped at a certain point. Beyond was an underground lake, where the hag dwelt, and she dared not go further until “the scary lady” had gone. She described the hag as having “too-long” arms and legs, long black hair, and pointy teeth.
Sneaking in was not an option, and Safi said the hag attacked on sight. So we agreed that a full-frontal assault was our best approach. And so, at the entrance to the largest cave, we made our final preparations: Selûne’s blessings, protections, and illuminations, and Fog’s own frosted armour.
We made our way into the hag’s domain. We took our positions in silence.
THE GIFT OF REMEMBRANCE
Marto cast a stone into the waters, and scarcely before the ripples had subsided, a black slime bubbled to the surface and the hag arose with a gurgling growl. She had lank hair, savage talons, and pure evil in her eyes. She grinned malevolently. To her, we were just prey.
She slashed viciously at Fog, causing him to stagger back and shake off the poisoning effect of her claws. He retaliated with a flurry of arrows and attempted to retreat, invisible. But the hag struck him with another swipe, and he fell. Then, while Kavel and Marto struck away at her, the hag conjured a lightning bolt which passed through all of them – Fog included.
In the gloom, I could see that Fog was already passing from unconsciousness out of this realm. I knew it was not his time. I flung myself at him as fast as I could, fracturing my ankle and sliding face-first across sharp rocks. But I reached him, and Selûne was with us that day. I touched him and heard him gasp back to consciousness as I lay there, dizzy with pain.
Then I felt the kiss of Selûne upon us all, thanks to Nessa’s powerful connection. I gritted my teeth fiercely. After a bad start, we were back in the fight.
The hag continued to slash away, but Kavel and Marto pinned her and shrugged off her poisonous attacks – thanks to Nessa’s protection, and to their own strength and bravery. I grinned with satisfaction at how effective Marto’s armour was. They punished the hag dearly, and the tide of the battle started to turn.
In order to get to safety, I called upon my celestial ancestry and took flight to rise from the ground, my ankle throbbing ferociously. It gave me the chance to join my friends. One of the hag’s claws raked Marto savagely, and I saw his face paling, as poison started pumping through his blood. I reached out for him and set my hands upon his shoulders. “I’ve got you,” I said, and vitality surged back into his face. But the words had not been mine. They were Selûne’s.
Fog and Nessa shot the hag up with arrows and divine magic, while Marto and Kavel hacked away at her repeatedly. Before I knew it, the hag was no more. Marto and Kavel were splattered with foul black ichor, and we were all standing there, breathing hard.
I came to rest uneasily on one foot. Fog thanked me for the help, returning the favour with a different kind of healing, one based on smoke and darkness. It eased the pain somewhat and would give me enough mobility to get home.
At the bottom of the lake, we could see the skeleton of a dragon lying there. Resting beside it, we saw the faint glimmer of a sword. As we debated jumping in and claiming this for ourselves, Safi pattered into the cave, grateful that we had rid the place of the hag. She sadly told us the dragon – a small, white dragon – had been her friend, but had crawled in there several years ago and died. She was reluctant for us to retrieve the sword, which had belonged to the dragon in life. She was grateful when we agreed to let the dragon rest with its possession.
I do not believe it is foolish or materialistic to care about items, even beyond the grave. Our connection to them is as worthy as our connection to other people. Who is to say that only in life must material things matter? I felt glad we had honoured Safi’s wish and I sent a silent prayer of remembrance for the dragon. Whomever she had been in life, I wished the best for her in the next realm.
Then I uttered a dedication for the hag. Whatever the mystery of death may bring, it brings to all people, good or ill. She was a person too, and perhaps there are those who would miss her. I at least would remember her… even if nobody else did.
THE GIFT OF HOPE
The journey back to Daring Heights should have been merriment all around, but again I observed the concern knotted across Marto’s face. Even Nessa’s joyful singing did not break through to him.
I knew Marto was in a dark place. The Five Angels of Shar were causing tremendous suffering, and he had been on the front line of our defence more than most. I drew close beside him as we were walking, interrupting his thoughts. “Whatever I can help with, please let me know,” I told him with fierce sincerity.
He walked alongside me a while, and it was clearly a difficult journey to reach me from wherever his emotions had been holding him. “Thank you, Velania. I’ve got a lot to think about. A lot of feelings I need to sort through too. But… if there comes a time I need to speak to someone, I will keep your offer in mind.”
Whatever pain ailed him, I felt heartbroken for him. All I could do was keep the door open. “The journey of a lifetime is in coming to understand what is within yourself. It should never be forced or hurried, but accepted with an open heart.” These were words I was learning and relearning every day myself. I could only hope they rang true for him. “I am certain it will come to you, and when it does, you will always have people who care for you ready to listen.”
Perhaps it was a relief when Marto saw me wince as my injured ankle landed badly and changed the subject by asking if it was improving.
“Hm,” I replied, “this long walk back probably isn't going to do me any favours. Healing magic is a blessing, but I rather think I'll have to rest it properly a couple of days to be sure. I think I wounded my pride more than anything.”
He offered me an arm for support. I was glad for his strength and hoped it gave him his own strength within. Then glanced at the others. “Perhaps it should be Fog giving me a hand,” I said with a mischievous grin.
Marto grinned back. “Going from really short to really tall? I see how it is…”
I blushed and laughed. “I only meant to tease Fog about paying me back for my healing services... Did you know there are some miserly priests who charge for that kind of thing? Outrageous!”
“There’s all types in all walks of life, so that doesn’t truly surprise me…” Marto replied. “The value of life, though, is not something one can put a monetary price on.”
“I wonder if these… fiends seek pleasure in dividing us through fear, or hate, or greed. But you are right, you cannot put too high a price on preserving life…” – I glanced further down the road in the direction of Fort Ettin, wondering what Coll was up to today – “…or love.” The words just tumbled out before I knew what I was saying. I blushed hard and stared at the ground meekly.
Marto had fallen back into his own contemplations. I sent him a big hug in my thoughts. I was certain of my earlier words: Selûne did have him, and she held him close. But it was not quite the time for either of us to delve into our hearts further. But I hoped we would again, another day soon.
The mood did lighten for the rest of our walk back to Daring Heights. By the end of the journey, I felt reassured of many things. First and foremost, that I was excited about my picnic with Coll. And armed with Maddie’s amazing blueberry pie recipe, I finally felt in control. I was able to handle most of my nerves. Making preparations would become joyful again. Coll and I would have a wonderful time.
I couldn’t wait to see Evenbloom Hill. I couldn’t wait to hear more of his stories. I couldn’t wait to hear his gentle laugh. I couldn’t wait to spend the day with him and watch the sun go down and see the pixies play and smell the Evenbloom flowers opening up and let them cast their gentle purple light upon us.
It had been a long while since I had opened my heart up to the idea of romance, and I was giddy and thrilled and turned into knots in the best way imaginable. I couldn’t wait.
Continues in A Budding Romance