Chapter Text
As their companions fall into comfortable drunkenness, Cel stares at the bottle of mead. They can imagine exactly how it would smell — fresh and sweet, like the brisk autumn breeze— and its taste like the smiles of people who looked like them. Family.
Their fingers play around the edge of the cork as tears well up in their eyes, before they carefully put the bottle in their bag. A treasured possession.
Many things are inside that bag: potions, tools, odds and ends collected throughout the years. But nothing like this. Something tangible —
Something more than just fading memories of home.