inbox 🐾 songerein.

[burnbrighter]

INBOX / SONGEREIN

TEXT • ACTION • DREAMS

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[burnbrighter]

[ Thoma snorts at the brief exchange of banter behind him. It’s a good thing he’s not the type to take things out of context, because those words could be taken quite differently if he was.

Which he is not.

In any case, it’s a few more moments before the bread comes out of the pan, freshly toasted and slathered in a homemade concoction of herbs and butter, which melts nicely into the warm, crispy surface. Hopefully it gives enough time for Ori to do something satisfactory with Diluc’s hair. ]

Dinner’s ready!

[ Said as he is already sweeping over to the table with their bowls and a plate of bread to share. ]

[hearthwarming]

[ As she looks down at Diluc's hair while gently combing through it, Ori thinks - it's moments like this, quiet and warm, that Ori wishes her life had more room in it for. She has spent the better part of the last few months just constantly on the run, and she's dreamt of a life that afforded this kind of comfort more than she realizes.

By the time Thoma has finished preparing the buttered bread, Ori has carefully pulled Diluc's long, red hair into a loose braid. It's enough to keep his hair out of his face for supper and comfortable enough to sleep in afterwards. With her work finished, she takes a seat again and looks back over at Diluc just as Thoma sets bowls and plates onto the table.

(A few more flowers perk up and unfurl in her hair in that moment, just as a thought passes through her mind about how Diluc looks, but maybe she can also pretend that it didn't happen.) ]

...Ah, thank you, Chef Thoma!

[disdelusioned]

[At least someone got the joke.

Diluc's hair hasn't received this kind of attention from another person since... ever, honestly. It's always been long, his father would always pull it back or up after brushing it out. As he grew old enough to take care of it himself, he generally defaulted to the same (or just leaving it down, but that rarely happens these days). He doesn't even know how to braid it like this.

It looks nice. And he's surprisingly pleased with that fact.]

Thank you, Ori.

[Thoma serves their soup and some bread, and Diluc swears he can see that little firebird again at the edge of his vision. He ignores it.]

And thank you both for supper. It looks and smells wonderful.

[The firebird soars a touch higher. It's a good thing it's made of magic and not actual fire, or it would set the ceiling ablaze.]

Let's eat.