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Sun showers on the field of various berries, each receiving their plentiful share of light for growth. There was a scent of morning dew to those who already woke up early, passing by the bountiful garden of an inphernal just waking up for the morning.
It was really just any other mundane day.
Mundanities, defined by other inphernals, were simply those chores you'd do and slack off in other times. Those times of grabbing a bite, times of unloading the laundry basket. Times of leaving the house for work, times of returning back home. A cycle, if you will.
Vinestaff finds a sentimentality to it.
Both the meaning and the chores.
There's something to be said about her days, how she'd often go by some without a thought in mind. There were those days, simply lying down under the rose blanket and allowing the sunlight to bathe her half-woken state. Days of mundanity, where she'd truly take her time in everything. In walking, in bathing, and in simply just waking up.
Drying her ivory curls took shorter than usual, the shower was a little too cold today. One of Vinestaff's horns got caught in her clothes, the morning was especially quiet today.
The old door creaked like no other time it would, the fire bursted from the stove as the inphernal took a surprised step back. Coughing, she simply waves the little smoke away.
Today, there were no eggs, so pancakes it must be. The apron covers the sweet pink dress, she makes it careful her left arm wouldn't get caught in flames.
Absent-mindedly, again.
Before long, she'd have the warm meal on a platter already, gently placed down on a wooden table designed of a small, singular vase of orchids. There, Vinestaff takes a seat.
It's normal, it's what happens.
Her eyes, which seemed to be pondering, look over to the open window beside the table. The sky seems to be clear, a bright baby blue to contrast the green waving grass. It's a wonder an inphernal could live a life like this.
And yet, Vinestaff feels she should be sharing this view.
The meal, which had remained untouched for few minutes now, that too. And the empty seat across, perhaps the extra space of the kitchen which she found big, too.
There's a numb feeling in her chest, her unaffected hand reaching to hold on to it.
It doesn't ache, but it leaves her eyebrows knitting together.
Her rosy pink eyes still remain on the view which could very well be a painting at this point, the light of the room being a warm yellow. The wind came here and there, so did this raw emotion too. These flowers.. it feels like it should be for someone. Vinestaff doesn't miss any inphernal, but it feels that way.
Then again, it was really just any other mundane day.