Work Text:
Luggage’s wheels rumbled against the hard pavement. The sound echoed through the fresh atmosphere of an early morning on Friday. A pair of legs were striding towards somewhere precious. Its owner softly panted along each short and quick step she took, one hand tightly grabbing the handles of the luggage and the other carrying the violin case. Two braids of muted sage green hair with tinges of pink that could be seen along the spirals of the neat braids; they faintly bounced rhythmically with the paces.
Several months on end that had separated her from the place she called home. Almost felt like more than a whole year, when she had to be far from home because of her extraordinary gig. Being a conductor in an orchestra, its common tours would usually last just a few months or so. However, this time it wasn’t just a regular orchestra she was working with; this time she was invited to compose the melody for an opera written by her long-time colleague and conduct a large ensemble of it.
It was an honour, yet extremely life draining.
She only accepted it because it was her friend’s dedicated piece of work. At first, it was just an opening stage she conducted, introducing the finished product of an opera to the eyes of some audiences, but then it became incredibly famous across the Solaris-3. Thus, her friend started a global tour project, sharing this work with everyone around the world for a whole year.
The light that shone on the stage, emphasising the movements of the story; the rhythms of various notes fused together with the delicate, emotional arias; the thundering sounds of long almost never-ending applauses; the sweetness of those compliments for the opera and the music after its end, over and over again in each city.
Her heart pounded with the warm sensation, then it spread all over her body, seeping to the depth of her soul. The feelings she desired: to compose the pieces through the inks from her own pen, to orchestrate them to live through the rise and falls of her own hands. The birth of those joyous melodies was one of the purposes in her life as a conductor.
Therefore, another time?
Absolutely not.
She still had another purpose in her life.
If a half of her life was dedicated to music, then the other half was dedicated and belonged only to this place and these people, and they must not be separated from each other for too long.
To be far away from her family for a really long time was something too much to endure for the female conductor. Just a few months was tolerable, but half a year wasn’t.
The coldness on the soft bedsheet of the luxurious hotel, where her skin touched each night, crept into her heart day by day. Even the lively conversation of the crew members did not ease such a notion that pierced through her pumping organ. In those nights, her mind would often wander to the softness she felt when her fingers stroked through her adopted daughter’s long white hair, the cute little voice whenever she called her ‘mother’, the enticing serenity she received from her wife’s touches, and the bed that always welcomed her with warmth—the more she was away, the more she longed for their physical presences.
So, in the meantime, the woman would spend uncountable times on her phone, talking to her family whenever she was free. And those free days where they rested after the performance were like a heavenly gift to her. She would use them to go back home, even if it cost her huge exhaustion from repeated travelling.
If not for those little breaks, she would have resigned midway before the crews even reached half of the world!
Still, those little chances didn't embrace her loneliness after the tour had started for half a year; when the distance from the city they performed was too far from her hometown, it wasn’t worth the time or money going back just for a couple of days—she didn’t care actually, but her wife restrained her from doing it. With that, she would wander around that city, as if running away from the freezing cold in the hotel room, visiting each store to find a resemblance of her people in objects, and sending those to them for the time being. A great remedy for a lonely heart.
Now, such physical isolation had come to an end. The tour had reached its final destination. The conductor could now go back home without any more restraints; without any work keeping her away, she could now stay at home for as long as she liked, with the people she loved. Those fruits of longing and waiting lead her to be in such a hurry state, especially after the performance ended. The woman didn’t care to join the after-party, booked a flight even before the show finished and left the hotel almost without a word in the late evening.
All the breaths she didn’t know she had been holding in were released out at once as soon as her legs stopped in front of the house’s door, breathing in fresh, solace air in the next.
Phrolova knocked on the door before she unlocked it. Her hand came to a sudden halt in front of the doorknob as soon as her ears perceived a little voice and the familiar rolling sounds coming closer to the door.
The lightweight door swung open before the woman eventually grabbed the knob.
“Mother!”
A small figure in a simple dark-coloured t-shirt and casual long pants, sitting in a wheelchair, greeted her with a bright smile by the door. The girl reeled her wheelchair to get closer as the woman walked in, enough to wrap her little arms around her mother’s waist.
“Welcome back, Mother!”
A smile spread across the braided woman’s face; her two-coloured eyes shone with gentleness at such a sweet sight. “My, thank you, little one.”
Mornye hummed, nuzzling against the fabric of her mother's white dress. “I missed you so much."
“I missed you too.” Phrolova let go of what she had been holding in her hands and kneeled herself down to be at the same height as her adopted daughter, returning the same gesture.
The corporal warmth of her child pulling her soul out of the freezing depth of solitude. She indulged herself deeper in the embrace, enjoying the moment she had longed for after all these times.
When they moved apart, her hand gently patted her daughter’s soft white silk. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Of course! Mom said you will be back here in the morning, so I woke up earlier to greet you.”
“Such a good little girl, you are.” She kissed the child's cheek; a playful giggle echoed in return.
Their early encounters still lingered in Phrolova’s mind. Before this, those rounded little reds were filled with anxiety and doubt whenever the girl saw her and her wife’s presences, but now they were replaced with joyous sparkles, just as she deserved all the happiness this world had to offer.
It had been almost three years since Phrolova and Shorekeeper adopted Mornye together. They both wanted to take care of a child after they got married, and at that moment they found Mornye.
A gentle, fragile little body that looked like it would break at any moment, especially those unresponsive legs, yet the soul it stored within had the will to live as whole as the others; the sharp brightness that pierced through those vivid red eyes was the authentic evidence of it. Such determination caught their attention. That small body fought itself to have the right to be considered a child worthy of living and the right to be happy. Being in a pressured environment for so long made her mind grow faster than her physical form, although she was still a child that needed medical attention and a true family.
After they took Mornye into the house, her special condition made the process of raising a child more elaborate and selfless. Because, back then, her health conditions were much worse, and the girl had always known it, better than anyone, of how much of a burden she could be. She never asked for more than what they provided her and was always apologising and on alert to any inconveniences she might cause. Through the unconditional support and love of her new adoptive parents, her health gradually improved. It also eased the mist covering her heart and fully embraced her newfound happiness and love she was worthy of ever since.
The smile on those little lips was one of Phrolova’s most favourite things in this world.
“Now, where’s your mom, little one?” She stood up.
And another one that was also her most favourite:
“I’m here.”
That voice.
The pair of two-coloured eyes swiftly gazed at the source of the reply. A familiar presence appeared out of the working room located on the right side of the house’s entrance hallway. The white-blue-hued nightgown shifted as its wearer hurried toward the conductor.
A new pair of arms wrapped around her waist with a soft, damp sensation landed on Phrolova's cheek. “Welcome home, my flower.”
The soft, calming voice of Shorekeeper—she could never get tired of hearing it after all these years they had been together. It was the voice that was always able to soothe her desolate soul, the voice that made her heart flutter every time it sang her name or that sweet little nickname.
The sage-haired woman returned the embrace, breathing in all the soothing sensations as her nose nestled against the crook of her wife’s neck. Only a humming could be heard as a response to the lovely greeting. Then Phrolova gave a big kiss on Shorekeeper’s cheek before they moved apart.
Well, normally, they would kiss each other on the lips as their usual greeting, but their daughter was watching them right now; a kiss on the cheek was enough to do so. For now. Though Phrolova personally thought that their child wouldn’t mind them kissing in front of her, Shorekeeper still insisted that this way would be more appropriate for a child of this age, not witnessing such things. She didn’t have any other valid reason to argue—she was somehow convinced—so she just followed whatever her wife wished.
“How was your flight?” asked the light blue-haired woman.
“Quite too long for my liking, but it went smoothly, as always.”
Shorekeeper didn’t reply for the next few seconds. Instead, her amethyst-coloured eyes just moved up and down, thoroughly staring at her lover.
“What?” Phrolova blinked a few times.
“You look rather tired, Phrolova. Did you get enough sleep?”
“I did…” Her gaze drifted away from her wife’s.
Clearly, she didn’t.
“Phrolova.”
And Shorekeeper noticed it.
“It won't be much of a problem, really.” She put one hand on her hip. “Besides, I’m planning to rest after you two go out anyway.”
All that excitement of finally going back home kept her awake almost all the way here. It couldn’t be helped. So, the conductor planned to sleep while her family went outside for work and school. At least waking up at home, even though everyone was away, was better than waking up completely alone in the hotel room.
The little ruby-coloured eyes stared at her mother and then her mom, tilting her head a bit. “I thought you already told Mother yesterday.”
Phrolova frowned at her child’s words. Her eyes gazed back to Shorekeeper, confused. “Now, what is this about?"
“I couldn’t find the right time to tell you yesterday…” She answered sheepishly, “Mornye took a one-day absence from school, and I’ll be working from home for today.”
“Oh.”
Eyes dilated in surprise, it cleared her confusion before. Warm spread through her chest, causing her lips to curve upward. Phrolova let out a playful voice, “So, it’s a little surprise for me?”
“Perhaps.” Shorekeeper responded in the same manner. Then, the usual calming voice rose again in a concerned tone, “But, don’t keep yourself awake for us, please?”
The discourser just hummed. “I won’t.”
She would.
From the appreciation deep inside her heart, Phrolova conveyed it out as she landed kisses on both her wife’s and their child’s cheeks. “Thank you so much, you two.”
The light blue-haired woman added, "It was actually Mornye’s idea to spend more time with you when you get back here. She really missed you a lot.”
“You did too, Mom. Maybe even more than me, your face says it every time the calls end,” their child stated it like that was nothing.
“Mornye…” Shorekeeper closed her eyes in embarrassment. A deep shade of red appeared on her cheeks.
“Why?” Mornye blinked her eyes and then gazed at Phrolova’s, awaiting an explanation.
Phrolova let out a pleased giggle as the scene unfolded. “Thank you for telling me, little one.”
Eventually, the three moved to the living area; the luggage’s wheels rolled on the floor as Phrolova walked. Next to the sofa, there stood the kitchen counters and the space for cooking. Bowls, pots, some ingredients, and kitchenware stayed still on the counters. The lycorises, preserved in two shades of eyes, noticed those objects. It seems like Shorekeeper was about to prepare breakfast for this morning before she came back.
The female conductor stopped and looked closely at the kitchen counters: some marine meats, heavy milk, breads, and other specific edibles… Now, the corners of her lips curved up in realisation of what her wife was going to make for breakfast.
When Shorekeeper reached near the counters, she turned to Phrolova. “Have you eaten anything before coming here?”
“I already ate some while on the flight.”
Such an unfortunate thing that she wasn’t really hungry at the moment…
“You don’t have to make that meal for me. I’ll probably eat again at lunchtime,” Phrolova added.
“Won’t you get hungry before then? It’s still a long time before lunch…”
“A little snack would suffice if I eventually get hungry.”
“... if you say so.” Her wife didn’t sound convinced.
The conductor put down her things and strode to Shorekeeper. “Don’t worry about me that much, Shorekeeper. I’m not that tired.” And left a gentle kiss on her wife’s cheek.
“I’ll go unpack my things while you cook.” The two sage-coloured braids budged as their owner turned to the little girl, now resting her wheelchair beside the sofa. “Help your mom with breakfast, will you?”
“Yes, Mother!” exclaimed little Mornye.
“Thank you, little one.” One hand patted the girl’s head.
Then, Phrolova left the two with their breakfast-making and walked into her bedroom—both her and Shorekeeper’s bedroom, to be exact. She put down her violin case, which would properly rest in another room later, and started unpacking her things she stuffed within the luggage, putting the objects back where they belonged. All of them were just her clothes, her baton case, and some new objects she bought as souvenirs. For those foreign decorations, the conductor just casually put them together in one place, letting them wait to be decided where to properly place them with her wife at a later time. And fortunately, it wasn’t much unpacking and didn’t cost too much of her precious time, because she already sent some back here by post, just so she didn’t have to move around with too much overweight luggage again. She only needed to wait for them to arrive and unbox later.
Her family had already been sitting at the dining table when Phrolova got out of the room. The relieving aroma of warm food greeted her nostrils; the familiar creamy fragrance combined with the soft saline scent of coastal seas filled the air, along with the freshly burnt smell of toasted bread. Before Phrolova had been away for work, this fragrance would often overflow the place at the last ray of sunlight ever since she and her wife had been living together. Strolling to them, she moved a vacant chair at the table and sat on it.
On the table stood two bowls on plates, one for Shorekeeper and one for their adopted daughter. The bowls were full of creamy chowder, decorated on top with a couple of salmon meats, a specific seashell, and some herbs. Besides the bowls, two pieces of toasted breads rested on their plates.
It’s the comfort dish of Shorekeeper; Creamy Clouds, she named it. A thick soup made from the blended texture of heavy milk and seafood, seasoned with a tint of salt or other spices of one’s liking, most perfect to be eaten with crispy breads. A comforting dish that Shorekeeper loved to make for the others in the evening, almost like a ritual kind of meal she would make whenever she felt tired or someone else did. Its warmth and taste really helped soothe fatigue and soul after all.
Her tongue started dampening itself, anticipating the taste of the warm bowls on the table. Phrolova underestimated how much she literally missed this food after being away for so long. She felt regret for her own decision now, but she didn’t want to admit it, or else it would be much of a bother to her wife.
A pair of two different-coloured eyes grasped the scene before them, people on the dining table enjoying their meals, all while listening to their owner talking about the performances she conducted while touring in each destination.
And when the conductor’s ears were concentrating on others' speech, when her mouth didn’t have to respond to the little girl’s stories of her days, there would be either a spoonful of warm chowder or a small piece of bread dipped in that soup held right up to her mouth, which automatically accepted the pieces, again and again throughout the conversation.
Of course, the culprit was none other than the light blue-haired woman, who was now sitting a little closer than before, right beside Phrolova. She didn’t mind accepting the feeding at first; she secretly wanted to eat it, and it was also Shorekeeper’s normal habit of sharing a little bit of her meal when she wanted to.
However, at some point, the sage green-haired woman started to notice that this ‘feeding’ was intentionally too much. Furthermore, the bowl right now looked half-eaten, which was perhaps consumed by Phrolova, mostly. This surely had to be stopped before she accidentally finished her wife’s breakfast at this rate.
“Shorekeeper.”
“Yes?”
That calming reply sounded abnormally innocent.
“Stop feeding me on purpose and eat your own food.”
As soon as Shorekeeper received the statement, the corner of her lips shifted downward, along with slight furrows between her eyebrows—a display of such an expression as ‘pouting’.
Phrolova chomped on her lower lip.
“... Making that face won’t help you, Shorekeeper.”
Amidst all Shorekeeper’s expressions, which usually were just her soft, composed face, her smile was another one of Phrolova’s most favourite things in this world—just like she loved Mornye’s smile. But, for an unknown reason, she also found her wife’s pouting really cute, flustering her heart every time she saw that. And somehow, Shorekeeper knew it and was using its advantages all along, especially right in this moment.
“Don’t starve yourself for my sake. You know I don’t like that.” She added.
“But I can—”
“No.”
“Alright…” The cute pout changed back into Shorekeeper’s usual calm expression, embracing her defeat.
Calm yet presented a hint of sadness within. That ‘alright’ she uttered sounded not all right at all. A pang of guilt ached one’s heart, who was, in a way, the cause of such a blue remark.
Her wife really was stubborn in her own way when she was concerned about something. In the end, Phrolova resigned. “Fine. Give me your bowl. I’ll eat it.”
“Are you certain…?” asked Shorekeeper, unassured.
“Yes. But not until you make yourself another one, do you understand?”
“Understood.”
Brightened as instant as her ears registered the positive response. Those amethyst-coloured eyes with the tint of velvet within shone brighter out of delight by just her lover’s acceptance in eating breakfast.
Hence, Phrolova ended up finishing Shorekeeper’s half-eaten bowl of chowder after her wife made a new one for herself.
In Shorekeeper’s defence, yes, she could have just prepared a separate bowl for Phrolova at the first place and asked her to eat it, pleadingly. However, she thought this method was more efficient and less forcible. Under that cold-hearted appearance, she was actually soft at heart; making those faces was often a useful tool to sway Phrolova’s demeanour. Moreover, she noticed that her lover secretly wanted to eat it from how she accepted every piece Shorekeeper held right up to her mouth. She was just too considerate and too stubborn to admit it herself.
The petite, rounded red eyes, which were more vivid than her mother’s right eye, just casually observed the scene of her parents bickering with each other, all while eating the delicious chowder her mom made. Of course, it wasn’t something new. It happened quite often whenever her mom was concerned about her mother, and her mother herself didn’t ease that worry easily.
For as long as she had been living with them, her mother could hardly win in this kind of situation, unless she used her own specific way to win, which was something they didn't allow little Mornye to see often.
\\\\\\
Sounds of chattering and giggling reverberated in the living area. The source of the noises was on the sofa, at the centre of the room. Such a delightful atmosphere would brighten the hearts of those who heard them; as the two of them talked, Phrolova was resting her chin playfully on the little girl's head while Mornye sat on her lap, secured by her mother’s arms.
Their adopted daughter had been keeping bunches of stories to tell her mother when she got back. After all those times her mother wasn’t at home, there surely were so many things to say about her school, her new interests, or her mini projects—all those small hands’ movements expressed how engaging the experiences were to the child. Her mother was responding along, invested by those little stories.
The corners of Shorekeeper’s mouth lifted at the sight when she just walked right into the scene after going to get her laptop in her working room. The fabric of the casual clothes flattened as the newcomer popped herself down on the sofa beside the other two. Fingers started typing on the keyboards of the laptop, continuing her work, while quietly listening to her lover and her child’s conversation.
“Rover gave me a book about an ‘artificial sun’ and a paper with the same topic not long ago.” The long white hair moved as she turned to look at her mother. “They are really interesting, but quite hard to understand… Could you help me read them, Mother?’
Mornye liked to read various things, no matter what kind of topic it was. That’s the most remarkable thing about her. Though if that topic didn’t interest her enough, she wouldn’t give it much dedication, as she would with the topic she was interested in. And sometimes, whenever she stumbled upon words or paragraphs she didn’t understand, she would come to ask one of her parents to explain them for her. Therefore, most of the time, she would ask one of her parents to read a book together with her, which was her favourite way to spend time with her parents.
But what their child said was, indeed, quite unexpected to hear.
“They gave you what?”
“A book and an academic paper.”
“What's the name of the paper, little one?”
“It's ‘The Theoretical Framework and Technical Roadmap of Helios’.”
Phrolova mentally groaned as she heard it: who in the world would give an eight-year-old child an academic paper about guiding principles to set up a new renewable energy source…?
Right, it was Rover.
Her eyebrows twitched, then they knitted together even tighter in knowing who gave those things to their child.
The vivid red eyes flickered as they got the glimpse of the woman's face—her mother looked displeased. “It's also fine if you couldn’t help me right now, Mother…”
“I– Yes, of course, I can help you, little one.” The furrows between her brows released as soon as she sensed the anxiety in the girl’s voice. “What they gave you is just very unexpected to me.”
The stiff little shoulders loosened up as her mother's fingers brushed through her long white hair.
Phrolova cleared her throat and continued. “Are you going to read them now? Which one are you going to read first?”
“Yes! I want to read the book first, but I have to go get it in my room.”
“Would you like me to get it for you?”
Mornye shook her head. “Thank you, Mother, but I’ll get it myself.”
“Alright, I'll simply wait here then.”
The braided-haired woman helped steady the wheelchair as the girl placed one of her hands on the wheelchair’s armrest and the other against the sofa, pushing her whole body onto the seat.
In the past, those unresponsive legs would protest with grave pain if strength ever disturbed her body, even just a little, as in that time when she fell off the bed once after her attempt to get on the wheelchair by herself, or in many times she fell off the wheelchair. Nevertheless, through many surgeries, medicines, and rehabilitation, all supported by her adoptive parents, she rarely felt any pain as she shifted her body now, and her arms were strong enough to crawl around as much as she wanted. Which was one thing that made her want to do something in return for both of her parents, as a thank—or, perhaps, to be less of a burden to them.
The two different-coloured eyes watched as the wheelchair carried little Mornye and vanished behind the door of her own bedroom. And then, rapidly, Phrolova turned to face her wife, who had already looked up from the laptop, probably since her scowling face accidentally worried their adopted daughter.
“Could you somehow remind Rover that our daughter is just eight years old?” She ruffled. Furrows reappeared between her eyebrows. “I know Mornye is smart, but isn't that a little too much? Did you know about this?”
“They actually handed them to me first, and I thought Mornye would like to read them.”
“...” Phrolova stared at her wife and pinched her lips together, mentally accepting whatever this was. Then, she sighed. “Next time, if they give her something, let me check first. Or else I’ll throw everything they gave into the trashcan.”
“Are you worried?” asked Shorekeeper.
“Of course, I am! Who in the world would normally give a small child a research paper?!” The woman shouted in whisper.
Shorekeeper's composed face offered a sheepish smile. “They said that the paper is, in fact, quite easy to comprehend. Moreover, they know she loves to read complicated subjects with us. That's why they gave it to her.”
“Aren't ordinary books enough?”
“Those might not satisfy her curiosity, I'm afraid.”
A groan—affectionately—was followed after by a whisper. “You and Rover are surely insufferable.”
Before the light blue-haired woman could answer anything, more weight fell on her right shoulder. The familiar muted shade of green could be seen from the edges of her eyes, causing a fond smile to form on the woman’s face. However, she also felt as if there were more concerns lying deeper within those words she had admitted, though Phrolova seemed to rather bypass that subject for now.
“That reminds me.” A hand softly patted the sage green hair. “Rover asked me to pass on their thanks to you for sending them various Huanglong teas while you were on tour.”
“Couldn’t they just thank me themselves?” Phrolova sneered. “Still a nuisance, I see.”
“They said they couldn’t contact you because you haven’t unblocked them.”
“Mmhm, I surely have not, nor do I have the reason to.”
“You are holding a grudge, my flower.”
“They let you work to the point you got sick, Shorekeeper.” A pair of lycoris-eyes moved up to glare at the amethyst ones.
“It’s actually because I was exposed to the rain before going back to the office.” Shorekeeper claimed.
“Then, they shouldn’t have let you work overtime like that. Shouldn’t the head of the Black Shores take care of their employees better, especially with their most ‘diligent’ vice president?”
“They did, but I still insisted on it myself.”
Phrolova could only groan as she dropped her head back on her Shorekeeper’s shoulder, mumbling against her collarbone. “You really are the most insufferable one.”
“It’s not their fault, Phrolova. And I promised you not to do that again.” Her wife asserted.
“Yes, yes, I know. So, stop trying to make excuses for them.”
“I’m only telling the truth…”
“Stop talking, or else I won’t resist the urge to kiss you on the lips right now,” declared Phrolova.
The hitched rhythm in Shorekeeper’s breath vibrated to Phrolova’s head that was rested on the shoulder of her wife, making her chuckle with satisfaction. Shorekeeper got flustered easily whenever Phrolova was being straightforward about needing romantic interactions, and yes, she loved to be the cause of such reactions.
The sound of wheels rolling against the floor came while the little banter happened, and it had been stopping behind the couch until its owner was sure that her parents were done. A petite worried voice then rose when Mornye moved closer to them. “Would you… rather rest instead, Mother?”
“Oh,” noticing her child had come back with that book rested on her lap, Phrolova then strengthened herself back to normal. “Don’t worry, little one. I was just trying to give your mom the affection she missed.”
“Like a cat?” The little girl asked.
The corners of the light blue-haired woman’s lips lifted higher at those words; she agreed to that.
“What? No?” Phrolova denied in a bewildered expression.
“You really acted like one, my flower.” Shorekeeper added.
“No! I’m not–” She huffed; easily gave in, in the next. “Whatever you say.”
Two against one, Phrolova would surely lose in this conversation, no doubt.
“Now, come here, little one.” The braided-hair woman said it before she scooped the girl up out of the wheelchair and placed her down back on her own lap again, adjusting the little limbs to safety and the most comfortable position.
“Do you feel any discomfort from your legs right now?”
Mornye shook her head, releasing the book she hugged close to her body.
“Alright, let's uncover what this book contains now, shall we?”
.
An hour had passed since they had started reading together. Phrolova would read each paragraph first and then explain it in a simpler way for Mornye to grasp the information. Or, when possible, their child would read it out herself and ask her mother to clarify the area she didn’t understand. If she came across a question, Mornye would write it down on the margin and find out in further reading. Though the book was quite hard to comprehend because there were mostly walls of texts in it, their daughter still showed a great concentration and interest in the newfound data. She appeared so eager to finish this book—to understand that academic paper with the same topic, to be specific.
Therefore, Phrolova thought to stop their child from indulging too much in the book soon and take a rest. A child so invested in a non-fiction book for a long time was definitely a great thing, but focusing too long without a proper rest would exhaust one’s passion in anything possible. The point was, she didn’t want another workaholic in this family.
Besides that, Shorekeeper noticed that the sage green-haired woman had been holding back her yawn for several minutes now; she was currently resisting the drowsiness just to read with their daughter.
“Let’s pause at this page for now, shouldn’t we? You should take a rest, little one." Phrolova finally spoke it up.
The ruby-coloured eyes shone with pleading when she moved her gaze up to her mother’s. “You can take a rest, Mother. I still want to continue it.”
“We’ve been reading for an hour now, Mornye. And it’s time for your daily check-up as well."
“Okay…” Mornye replied with a touch of a sad expression.
Phrolova tenderly pressed her lips against her daughter’s forehead. “We can continue after that, alright?”
The petite head nodded as a response before crawling back into her wheelchair that had been standing still by the couch for an hour straight.
In the meantime, Shorekeeper put her laptop down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I’ll do the check-up for you.”
“Is your work finished?” The woman turned to ask her wife.
“It only needs to be finalised now, but that can be done later. You should rest as well, Phrolova."
The way her lover only moved her head in affirmation caused Shorekeeper’s eyebrows to rise.
Normally, Phrolova would disagree to rest whenever she was asked to, especially on this kind of occasion where she just got back from home after being away. She loved to spend as much time with her people as possible, even if others were just doing their things; she didn't mind anything, except her own sleeping, unless it was nighttime, or unless she was forced to, which often Shorekeeper had to force her to rest. This time, it appeared that the tiredness from travelling and lack of sleep really drained her stubborn energy, making her surrender this easily.
While Shorekeeper was accompanying their daughter to the destination room, pushing the wheelchair for the little girl, she asked, "Would you read with me instead after we finished?”
“Of course, Mom,” answered Mornye, looking up to the light blue-haired woman. “I was about to ask you that, actually. I think Mother is the one who needs rest the most.”
“Certainly. Your mother really is too stubborn to admit it, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is.” The girl let out a playful tone.
“I can still hear both of you if you somehow forget.”
A feigned hint of annoyance in that retort caused both of them to giggle at each other.
The medical monitoring of Mornye’s condition didn’t take such a long time to finish, as it was a daily routine that they had structured the time to check her current physical condition, as instructed by the doctors. Even so, when they both came back to the sofa, they found Phrolova already sleeping soundly on the couch. She leaned her body sideways down on the couch while her head rested on a lumbar pillow with her hands also resting on it, and her legs didn't change much from a sitting position. The muted shade of sage green with pink strands now unbraided and spread around the surface, tresses dropped down in volume under the force of gravity. The conductor’s chest heaved softly by the steady rhythm of breathing.
Such a sight looked so serene, so much so it softened Shorekeeper’s heart, causing an adoring smile to appear on her face. Her lover was literally exhausted after all, and yet she stayed awake this far to spend more time with both of them, even when she asked her not to.
“Shall we go read outside, my child?” She whispered.
Mornye responded with a nod, understandably.
The little girl went to get her book and moved to the terrace of their house, letting Shorekeeper go into her bedroom to get a blanket and adjusting Phrolova to sleep in a more comfortable position.
.
A few hours had passed by. The woman on the couch started to stir up from her sleep. The two different-coloured eyes fluttered open, adjusting to an even warmer light of the sun that was setting almost the highest of time on the bright blue sky.
Meanwhile, the gradient deep-blue edges of the long light blue hair budged as its owner slowly strode to the couch again, checking on her lover with no intention of disturbing her slumber.
“Did I wake you up…?” Shorekeeper asked worryingly.
The discourser shook her head. A soft blanket piled up on the woman’s waist while her dozy voice rose, “How long have I been sleeping?”
“For a couple of hours, it's quarter past eleven right now.” Shorekeeper continued after she heard her lover only humming as a response. “You can go back to sleep, Phrolova. It's still not lunchtime yet.”
“No, it's alright. I think that's enough rest now, or I might not be able to sleep tonight.”
“I see,” said Shorekeeper.
The woman with casual clothes walked closer to Phrolova, who didn't notice her paces yet, until Shorekeeper bent herself down a little to be able to caress her lover’s face. A thumb brushed on Phrolova’s lower lip, leading her face to look straight at the amethyst-coloured gaze.
Those drowsy two shades of lycorises stared back at the amethysts questioningly. And then the realisation hit; her wife was intending to kiss her,
On the lips.
Suddenly, a hand blocked those lips before they could collide with hers.
“D-didn’t you say not to k-kiss in front of our daughter?” A stuttered whisper.
Shorekeeper gently moved the hand that obstructed her mouth, revealing a soft smile behind it. “Mornye is sitting outside right now, my flower.”
“Oh.”
Eyes quickly moved away to look behind the person in front. Far from the couch, there were glass windows that displayed their house's garden, and then there was the back of their child, who was sitting in her wheelchair beside the terrace’s bench on the other side of those windows, dwelling in deep concentration on her own things.
Realising that, Phrolova instantly pulled her wife closer, making Shorekeeper yelp as she almost fell on her. As a result, the light blue-haired woman was, right at this moment, straddling on Phrolova's lap, the tips of their noses brushed. Those gazes stared deeply into each other's for a few seconds; time seemed to pause before their lips finally met, initiated by the female conductor.
One of their desires had been fulfilled; they both thirsted for this physical touch after such a long time of parting, making the kiss fill with desperate hunger. Phrolova's arms coiled around Shorekeeper's neck, her fingers tangled with the gradient blue strands, nudging her to deepen the kiss; both of her wife’s hands cupped her face in return.
A tongue urged to enter, in which the other welcomed it with intensity. Hence, their tongues danced with each other, exchanging the alluring taste of their fervent loves. The sensation aroused the hearts to crave more. Heat spread through their faces and their bodies. Lungs started starving for oxygen.
“Nghn…”
Phrolova whined against their lips as her breath was running out, yet Shorekeeper did not let go of her easily. She squeezed her wife’s shoulders to protest.
Eventually, they moved apart, both panting heavily, grasping for breath.
The amethyst-coloured irises with tinges of velvet thoroughly perceived the features of the person in front; an intense shade of red radiated over Phrolova's cheeks and ears, much more than the woman who still straddled her lap right now; the chest strongly heaved for breath; the ruffled sage green hair from sleeping amplified the lovely look, and those bewitching eyes that turned away, trying to escape from the purple ones:
“You still get flustered quite easily when you just woke up, Phrolova.”
Shorekeeper smiled widely with admiration as she inscribed such an adoring sight deep into her heart. She tucked a muted green strand of hair behind her lover's ear, fondling the reddened face.
“Which is really cute.” She added.
“B–be quiet…”
A soft laugh sounded melodious to Phrolova's ears. She drew out a deep breath of embarrassment. Both of her arms now moved to wrap around the middle of the person on her lap instead as she nuzzled against the crook of that person’s neck.
The silence consumed them for a few seconds until Phrolova let out a mumble. “I missed you so much…”
Shorekeeper returned the same gesture with her fingers gently stroking the long sage-coloured hair. “I missed you too, my flower.”
“Let me stay like this for a moment, please.” Her nose rubbed against the light blue-haired woman’s collarbone.
“How could I even deny you…”
For several minutes, they stayed like that without any more words, indulging in each other's presence.
The warmth of her wife’s embrace melted the heart frozen by those lonely nights Phrolova had to endure for several months. The way silence greeted her every time she came back to the hotel room, the way the soft mattress felt like a freezing surface of a stone, and the way there weren’t any beautiful amethyst-coloured eyes and any little ruby ones when she glanced over the audience seats—it felt not much different from losing them completely, which was something that she feared the most. Her arms wrapped even tighter, thinking of those wrenching scenarios.
The tender movement of those fingers brushing through her hair, the vibration of her wife's breathing—the living existence of Shorekeeper eventually redirected her mind back to the present. She snuggled deeper in the embrace, inhaling all the smells of her wife she had missed.
At the same time, the soft, muted sage green hair kept tickling Shorekeeper as its owner wouldn't stop nuzzling her neck. That motion reminded her of an animal, which she decided to say out loud. “You actually look like a cat right now, Phrolova.”
“Wha– No!” Head suddenly sprang up to confront those amethyst-coloured eyes. "I am not a cat!”
“Of course not, definitely not.”
Just an acknowledgement. That denial clearly didn't change anything; she still was a cat to her.
Phrolova frowned, a bit bristled. “Why do you keep saying that I act like a cat?”
“The way you kept nestling my neck like that, it's very much like a cat rubbing its head against someone, asking for affection or trying to mark its sense of possession,” explained Shorekeeper, casually.
Mouth parted in shock; it moved as if wanting to retort that statement, but nothing came out. The woman was too stunned to speak. An intense hue of red showered over her face.
Phrolova raised both of her hands to cover her whole reddened face and groaned. “You're insufferable.”
“Yet, you love me.”
“You're lucky that I love you, Shorekeeper.” She lifted her head up from her hands.
Shorekeeper left a chuckle before she answered. “I love you too, Phrolova.”
Once more, their lips collided into a passionate kiss, coated with the sweetness of the love they declared to each other. Though, this time, it was softer and slower, yet lasting briskly.
The sage green-haired woman exhaled a deep breath to cool down her racing heart, unbinding her arms from the other person's waist.
“You can stand up now, my love.” Phrolova paused for a few seconds. "Although, I want you to straddle me a little longer, but I guess you don't want our daughter to see us like this, do you?”
Shorekeeper’s breath twitched from those words before she replied, “U–unfortunately so.”
A pleased smile formed on the lips of the woman with two-coloured eyes, proud of her own work.
Both of them got up from the sofa. Phrolova looked at the clock on the wall; it was nearly lunchtime now. Great time to prepare lunch. So she turned to Shorekeeper, asking for a favour before she went back to their child:
“Can you ask Mornye what she wanted to eat for me? I’ll go prepare lunch.”
The discouser’s glistening lips parted about to state a question –
“I know what you’re going to say. Yes, I’m sure I don’t need any more rest. So, I’ll make lunch."
Then got cut off before the words even came out.
And that was indeed what she was about to ask her lover.
Now that the unspoken question had been answered, she just nodded to affirm Phrolova’s request instead. “Of course, my flower.”
Usually, it would be Shorekeeper who prepared lunch for her family when they were all at home together all day like this. In the morning Phrolova was in charge. And in the evening, both of them—and also their child—would help each other make the dinners.
For normal workdays, Phrolova would be the one who was always taking care of making breakfasts, and Shorekeeper was in charge of the dinners. And lunch was up to her choice because Phrolova usually was at home most of the week, practising instruments, orchestrating her own music or studying scores for concerts in her own music room while the others went out for their occupations. In spite of all that, this day was a special occasion that got Shorekeeper in charge of the breakfast. Thus, to make it fair, Phrolova would like to take her place for today.
The woman tied her long sage green hair into a ponytail as she walked towards the kitchen. Her thoughts drifted to what recipe she should make for today while anticipating what kind of food their daughter would ask for this time. In which, most of the food she had been requesting each day, all before Phrolova's absence for her work, they all had more ‘nutrients’ than usual.
Although it was a meticulous, phenomenal habit of Mornye on eating healthy foods, Phrolova still didn’t quite understand why their child was so abnormally serious about nourishment in meals more than any other eight-year-old children—or even Phrolova—would be. A thing that confused her to this day.
Shorekeeper had asked her once, and all Mornye said was, ‘It made us healthier, so it's essential to take it seriously,' which unsurprisingly was able to convince Shorekeeper to agree without any resistance, causing both of them to be impossible—to Phrolova—about eating healthier ever since.
At least, for Shorekeeper, she would still make ordinary meals with little changes in ingredients for healthier purposes or choose to cook already-healthy-meal recipes. She was, however, so strict with eating three meals a day on time.
But for Mornye? All of her requests were absurdly just some nutritious foods combined together in a plate for the sake of ‘better nutrients’, not for good tastes or even a proper recipe. Some of them tasted tolerable, even pleasant sometimes, but most of the time absolutely not, and yet Mornye still ate them like they were delicious.
Thereby, both Phrolova and Shorekeeper prepared the foods differently each time; unless some was tolerable, they would also eat the same as their daughter.
The root of it all was perhaps that one time when Cartethiya and Cantarella came to visit them. They often came for a visit when they were free, such as on holidays, even before Phrolova and Shorekeeper adopted Mornye, and after their daughter got into the family, Mornye would love to play with them whenever they came, especially Cartethiya, who liked to tell stories and her favourite knight tales to the little girl. For someone who worked in the medical science field like Cantarella, that one time she taught Mornye about chemistry in food and nutrition, which intrigued their daughter very much and, as if, shaped something in her mind,
Causing all this 'nutrient' obsession thing ever since.
Only for a short time, Shorekeeper came to the kitchen area to tell Phrolova what their adopted daughter wanted for lunch.
And, of course, what she requested today was, expectedly, still a list of nutritious edibles fused together.
\\\\\\
Afternoon came around, the sun shone through the trees, casting the shadows of leaves on the ground, and they moved as the pleasant breeze blew through the greens. Flowers stretched their petals and leaves, embracing the bright sunlight. Birds hovered from branch to branch; some flew through the clouds, and some sang on the tree. Small animals ran around, finding their food.
A petite white-haired girl had now put her book down to take a rest as her mother instructed, and she pivoted the wheels of her chair across their house’s large garden. The rubber of the wheels met with the mild texture of grass, then dragged through the rough texture of stone paths again and again as its user wandered around, watching animals living their lives on the trees and on the ground within their yard, inspecting the growth of the garden’s plants, and hearing birds’ songs.
It was one of Mornye’s free-time activities when the afternoon weather was nice with soft wind whistling through the garden, being outside and just listening to the voices of nature. Their contemporary house was also near a dense area of trees. Thus, sometimes the girl would see other kinds of animals wandering outside of the forest, besides their fences, for whatever purposes they had.
In fact, being outside in the late evening before her bedtime was Mornye’s most favourite activity: to lie on the soft grass in the clear area in their yard with one of her parents—mostly Shorekeeper—or both of them, watching each constellation shine brightly or other astral phenomenon in the vast starry night. In nights like those, her mom would look up at the stars with her and identify the constellations which appeared at that time, teaching her their resemblances and their meanings. Mornye loved this activity, and she wished that someday she could finally stand up and be able to reach those stars.
The girl drove through the garden, trying to recall various names of each vegetation her family had planted, mostly flowers, as her parents seemed to like flowers quite a lot, and some nourishing vegetables for cooking. Until she saw some bushes of redcurrants in their garden. The red fruits reddened all over the green leaves, though those berries looked rather ripe; some of them had already fallen on the ground. The bushes themselves weren’t too tall or too short. For that reason, an idea emerged in her mind, in which she needed to go grab a little basket inside the house first.
Meanwhile, Shorekeeper was still typing on her laptop while sitting outside on the bench located on the terrace in front of the glass windows that displayed their house’s living area. She gazed up to watch Mornye from time to time. While, on the other side, Phrolova was in the music room, returning her violin to where it belonged and tidying the room for a little bit.
As the light blue-haired woman was finalising her work, Mornye steered past her back into the house, and after a few minutes, she came out again with a little wooden basket they kept inside the kitchen counter resting on her lap. Shorekeeper watched with curiosity but didn’t give it much thought since she believed her daughter might just plan to do something fun.
Several minutes passed. The amethyst-coloured eyes looked up again as her ears recognised the sound of the wheelchair rolling against the wood planks of the terrace, directed to her this time.
“Is your work finished, Mom?” A soft little voice popped up.
“Yes, my child. Do you need something?” Shorekeeper replied.
Then she noticed a basket on the child’s lap, full of small, rounded red berries.
Redcurrants.
“Is it okay if I try making a Redcurrant Tart by myself?”
Shorekeeper's eyebrows raised. That was Phrolova’s favourite dessert, probably the only person in their family that loved to eat redcurrants and their taste; she even personally planted them in the garden.
“Are you making it for your mother?”
“Exactly!” exclaimed the girl, eagerly.
Such determination and cheerfulness in that little face would cause the person to smile simultaneously and hardly deny such a request. Her mom closed her laptop, ready to get up. “Of course, my child. Let me help prepare some ingredients for you.”
“Yeah! Thank you, Mom!’ The white-haired child moved closer to hug her mom.
The woman smiled and patted the soft white hair before she got up. After that, both of them went back into the house to the kitchen area, getting started with the process of the little girl’s cooking mission for this afternoon.
Shorekeeper gathered all the ingredients, then Mornye, now sitting on a rollable chair that had the same height as the counter which was created specifically for her to help her parents with the cooking, cleaned the red fruits.
“I still don’t understand why your mother loves the taste of redcurrants so much, especially when they’re almost ripe." The calming voice spoke as its owner watched her daughter remove the seeds inside the berries for a smoother jam texture.
“Is that why Mother planted them?” The girl turned her attention to Shorekeeper.
“Yes, just so she can eat them before they become fully ripe.”
“How do they taste like before they’re ripe.” The ruby-coloured eyes shone with interest.
“They’re much more sour and bitter than usual.” The light blue-haired woman wrinkled her nose when she recalled the taste. “Something only your mother would like.”
“You don’t like the taste?”
“No… the sourness is too strong for my liking." Shorekeeper shook her head before she answered. “Would you like to try it next time? Though they taste quite strong, they still contain nutrients not much different from the ripe ones.”
“Of course!”
After Mornye finished removing the seeds, she measured each ingredient as required in the recipe under the instruction of her mom. In the next step, all Shorekeeper could do now was just hover behind the little girl while she was mixing the flour and milk in a bowl, operating things solely by herself as she requested.
“What are you two making?”
Suddenly a familiar, whisperly voice piped up.
Both of them turned their gazes to the source of the question. In front of where they were stood the bar-like counter, and there was a woman with sage green hair tied in a ponytail behind it. She leaned against the counter and rested her chin on her hand, watching them with curiosity. Her two-coloured eyes looked around the process of the cooking on the counters and noticed a container full of small, rounded red berries in it.
“Are those redcurrants?” Her voice perked up as she realised what they might be.
“They sure are.” The pair of amethyst-coloured irises watched her lover move closer to the redcurrants’ container, as if little sparkles appeared in those two-coloured eyes, causing her lips to curve upwards.
“It felt like ages since I last ate them.” Phrolova changed her attention to the others, asking no specific person, “Did you gather them from the garden?”
“I did, Mother,” the girl replied. “I’m making a redcurrant tart right now!”
“Oh? You are making it by yourself?”
“That’s right!” Mornye chirped, her eyes shining with excitement.
“She is. I'm just here to watch her.” Shorekeeper added.
“Such an amazing girl you are, little one.” Phrolova said in astonishment as she strode closer to her child to pat her head.
“Thank you, Mother!” Her smile spread wider.
“Are you also making this for yourself then?”
“Well…” The little red eyes furtively observed the amethysts of her mom, which Shorekeeper smiled and nodded as a response.
After a moment paused, Mornye finally answered, “Actually, it's for you.”
The two different shades of irises widened in surprise, then came a realisation: this dessert was no one but Phrolova's favourite. Though Mornye could eat anything, it wasn't like she enjoyed eating this kind of sweets anyway. The warmth washed over Phrolova’s face, lifting the corners of her mouth. So, her daughter might have picked up those redcurrants just to make this dish specifically for her from the start.
“Thank you so much, little one…” Phrolova bent herself down to leave a kiss and playfully squeezed both cheeks of the girl, which caused her to laugh.
All the interactions had been reflecting within those amethyst-coloured with tints of pink eyes, memorising them thoroughly as their owners laughed softly along with the scene.
Mornye continued mixing the flour with milk in a bowl, adding a bit of sugar, an egg and other ingredients for the pancakes along the way. At the same time, Phrolova picked one of the redcurrants and tried tasting it. The astringent flavour firstly creeped all over her tongue, a taste she most enjoyed, then the sugary sensation infiltrated, replacing the sourness almost whole.
“This is rather sweet…” The words left softly under her breath.
To which the child heard it. “Are you okay with it?”
“Of course, little one.”
Mornye nodded as a response.
Not long after, the little girl finished fusing all the ingredients for the pancakes. Now, set up the pot with water inside on the stove with the help of her mother. It was gradually warming up from the heat below, ready to convert the redcurrant into a sweet jam to put on the soft, rounded cakes. Before the redcurrants were put into the pot, the girl suddenly sensed something insidious seeping through those lips as Phrolova smiled to herself.
“What are you thinking, Mother?” Mornye couldn't help but ask, a little worried.
Rather than an answer, she received an order from her mother instead.
“Close your eyes, Mornye.”
Little hands covered her eyes as Mornye was told. It left her very puzzled, but the child did as her mother said anyway.
Shorekeeper who was still watching both of them, also sensed a bit of that something—not a bad thing—was about to happen. Plus, the instruction Phrolova gave to their daughter was a clear confirmation that her lover planned to do that ‘something’...
To her.
A couple of the redcurrants in the bowl got shoved into Phrolova’s mouth in a flash, then the muted sage green ponytail stirred as its owner quickly strode towards the target.
“What are you do– Mmph!”
Shorekeeper's lips were abruptly captured by those of her lover’s, which caused her to lean on the counter behind to balance herself. The unowned tongue probed between her lips, demanding them to be apart. As the entrance was wide enough, new small little substances entered her mouth. The astringent taste coated all over them, making the light blue-haired woman whimper at the unenjoyable flavour. Though, soon after, the bitterness and sourness slowly got overpassed by the upcoming sweetness, both from the foreign substances themselves and the sudden ravishing kiss.
When Phrolova was sure that those redcurrants got into the other person’s mouth completely, she broke away from those tempting lips. The two different shades of eyes observed all the features on the face of her wife, grinning with victory in her own little game.
The warmth spread through Shorekeeper’s cheeks and gradually to the tips of her ears. The sweet and astringent tastes were still lingering in her tongue. Fingers reach to her own parted lips in bafflement, taking in those savours and what just happened to her.
A whisper, mischief yet alluring, followed after beside the poor victim’s ear. “A payback for earlier.”
Phrolova shifted her attention back to her daughter just as she did before, like nothing happened. She lowered the heat of the stove as she saw the water boiling up. “You can open your eyes now, Mornye.”
The little ruby-coloured eyes blinked a few times and glanced around the area. She then spotted her mom standing like a statue behind, leaning against a counter with a reddened face while still touching her lips like she was too taken aback to move.
Mornye frowned in confusion and worry; her mom was normal before she closed her eyes, and in just half of a minute after, she had appeared so baffled. Her gaze redirected to her mother with suspicion. “Is she alright…? What did you do to Mom when I closed my eyes, Mother?”
“Nothing worrisome, little one. I only gave something your mom enjoys. She's just having a hard time accepting it.” Phrolova sang, acting like she didn’t just kiss her wife behind her child. “You can put the currants into the pot now. Be careful while putting them in also. Don’t touch anywhere else except the handles, alright?”
“I promised I’ll be careful, Mother.”
“Mhm, I’m sure you will.”
And that was enough to distract her child; now, those little hands then lifted up the redcurrants bowl and put them in the boiling pot with definite caution, adding a little lemon juice and more sugar on them after that.
While the woman with greyish green hair in a ponytail was watching the girl stirring the jam in the pot, Shorekeeper regained her consciousness. Her leisure steps began directing towards Phrolova’s right side, past the stove.
“I didn’t know you could be this vengeful, my flower.” She stopped closely next to her lover, whispering only for her to hear.
Phrolova only shrugged. “Did it taste better?”
“With you doing that, it did taste less sour.”
“Mhm, I know.” She hummed, satisfied.
So then the little cooking mission continued from the mixed flour being cooked in the rounded shape in the pan glazed with melted butter, under the supervision of two adult women hovering behind the girl, to the finished product.
On the dining table now lay the finished dessert deliciously on a plate, with some leftover redcurrents and leaves decorated on the top of it. The sunlight reflected against the red jam covered all over the soft pancakes, much to Phrolova’s liking. Now that the dessert was done, the woman whom this plate was specifically made for was having the first bite. The little red eyes sparkled with anticipation and anxiety as the fork that contained a small piece of the pancake with its red jam gilded into Phrolova’s mouth.
A pair of lycorises gleamed as its taste touched her tongue. The redcurrants before the conversion were acidic and bitter, then turned quite sweet by how overripe they were, and then now it was made into a jam; its flavour had become even sweeter by the additional sugar combined with the soft pancake’s taste, balanced well together with the tang of sourness from the currants mixed with lemon juice. A little less sour from Phrolova’s preference, although it was still considered very delicious to her, and the sourness might be tolerable for others, especially her wife as well.
“How was it, Mother?” A small voice finally rose from the white-haired girl now sitting on Shorekeeper’s lap next to Phrolova.
“It’s very delicious, little one.” The first bite started, then came another, grasping the taste of dessert she didn’t realise she missed it. “Though it’s less sour than my own preference, it still tastes really pleasant. Balanced sweetness and sourness, I’d say.”
The little girl beamed as she received the compliment. She turned her face up to her mom and received a hand gently stroking her long white hair. “Well done, my child.”
No matter how the taste turned out to be, the clearest thing was that this plate was created through the commitment of a little child as a way of conveying her love to her mother on this special day where Phrolova finally came back home after being away for half a year. That enough lit a smile, full of pleasure and thankfulness, on Phrolova's face.
“Thank you for your hard work, Mornye.” And she had seen through the whole process of this little gift, causing a deep sense of satisfaction and gratitude in her chest. “I’m so proud of you.”
Those little eyes curved upwards with great happiness, along with a wider smile. “I couldn’t have finished it without the help from both of you.”
“The credits are still yours, little one," Phrolova hummed. “Would you two like to try it? I don’t think I could finish this plate by myself anyway.”
So then on, the three shared the dessert together and things after with joyous melodies chiming along, indulging in the present that had finally brought them back to be together again ‘til the ray of the burning sun was fully covered by the vast horizon, and awaiting for the daylight to shine again for ever and ever, as long as they were all together.
Akin to the sensation of receiving the warmth of a glowing hearth on the coldest night of the year, the freezing hands getting warm by the fire, and the crackling symphony resonating in one’s ears—with the burning fire, the glacial river would be melted back to its continuously flowing rhythms, embracing the stream of vitality.
The moments where they would pull one up from the bottomless void; the moments where they would dispel the piercing thorns that had been strangling one’s neck. As long as one kept breathing, these little moments would forever welcome us—a gentle reminder that you’re not alone and there’s a place for you to rest, no matter how far you’ve gone.
If this place brings you ease, if a home is where you find peace.
With them here, you can always turn back and find your way home.
.
.