(no subject)

[blessingone]

[At the south of the village, once a bit farther out of the way before the higher numbered community buildings and the battle dome appeared, is a single-floor house surrounded by way more gardens than any reasonable person could ever need. There, in House 34, an eclectic group from the Legacy reside and raise the child left behind by Senel and Stella.

This is their fourth wall post.]

[Specifically, this is a group post for Norma, Grune, Fenimore, and Walter. Comments inside for each will give more detail on what they're up to.]

Comments

[blessingone]

It'll come back to you. It happens like this sometimes, that it takes a while for people to remember.

[And sometimes it never goes beyond vague memories. But she isn't going to think about that. And no one has ever come back without wings. But she isn't going to think about that.]

[She takes one of Shirley's hands in her own and squeezes it.] It'll be fine. I promise.

[prayingone]

[Reassured by Fenimore's words and her touch, Shirley manages a smile for her friend.]

I hope so... [She gently turns her hand in Femiore's, so their palms are touching and she can return the gesture.]

1/3

[blessingone]

[Fenimore's own smile warms at the gesture, but the uncertainty that Shirley is expressing is making it hard to keep from thinking about her own worries that it mightn't turn out as well as she is pretending it will.

But, rather than let that show, she tries to force her way through any uncertainty.] Hey, don't you trust -- ?

2/3

[blessingone]

[She cuts herself off in mid-sentence and sniffs the air. And then sniffs again.

...She'd left a batch of tarts on, hadn't she. That smell was them starting to burn, wasn't it.]

[blessingone]

Oh, good grief! [And, as much as she appreciates the gesture, Shirley, she is going to need her hand back as she scrambles to her feet and makes a mad dash for the elec'ric stove in the hope that she can get them before they're a total write-off.]

[prayingone]

[Surprised by Fenimore's sudden movement, Shirley twists in her seat to watch as Fenimore darts into the kitchen. Between that and the smudge of of flour on her cheek, it's obvious that she was baking.]

Is- everything alright? [Oh no. Oh no, she distracted Fenimore from her bakinng...]

[blessingone]

[It would be an exaggeration to say that smoke billows from the oven when she opens it, but it's pretty clear that these tarts are a write-off. She sighs, but sets the pan down on top of the stove and turns back towards Shirley, still wearing oven mitts.]

Yeah -- well, other than the tarts. I think this batch is beyond saving at this point.