Presents and Promises

The weather outside may be frightful, but inside is so delightful. The hearth burns bright and merry; fresh tea is recently brewed and sits at the lounge table. The kitchen is a pleasant cacophony of smells and activity.

The singular oddity may be that the kitchen is sans Auranar, or at least mostly so?

Verna has taken it upon herself this day ... eve? is it eve already?... to prepare a suitable celebratory meal. As much as she enjoys cooking with Auranar and (just as much) relishing in her fiancee's culinary delights, it is unfair that the sylvanori should be the sole chef the majority of the time.

Thus Verna sought to offer her some respite; a gift of fewer worries or responsibilities. Even if it is more hobby than chore. In short: relax, stay out of the kitchen, I shall tend to it... though Verna did not go quite so far as to seal the doorway with magical barriers.

Auranar, banned from the kitchen as she is - however gently - has decided to spend her time in the luxury of her books. Tea accompanies, set on the table away from the books in question of course, but still present and warming. The wild elf is warmed by the fire, enticed by the scents from the kitchen, and embroiled by her reading. "I think you'll want to read this one when I'm done with it Verna." She offers finally, setting the book aside and taking a drink of her tea. "Assuming you ever finish in the kitchen."

"All is nearly finished!" Verna calls back, for only the third time in the past few minutes. A clatter of bowls and/or cookware rings out shortly after; nothing that sounds fragile nor broken, at the least.

A thankfully few minutes later, she emerges with a large tray. Upon it are a variety of meat pies, roasted potatoes and other late season vegetables. She moves in a hesitant rush, well-aware of the delays and yet also not wishing to drop anything. The larger lounge table is reached and the tray set down without incident.

"Dinner is served. Apologies for the delays."

GAME: Verna rolls 1d20: (9): 9

Neither the food nor the kitchen is aflame nor reeking of charcoal, at the least.

With the woman herself not immediately evident, Auranar returns to her reading. At least until she hears the sound of Verna venturing forth. Then she bookmarks the page with a bookmark, sets it aside and rises to her own feet. A bit of stretching follows, but she is quickly at the table as Verna reveals the efforts of her labor. Auranar might be the more talented of the two in the kitchen, but she's impressed with Verna's hard work. "It looks wonderful Verna!"

She takes the other woman's hand and kisses it with a grin. "I couldn't have done better myself. I don't even know what to try first!" Auranar looks across the food in question and picks up a plate to dish herself up a portion of the foods offered. "You didn't have to do all this you know... I feel spoiled."

Verna's cheeks darken at the compliment, though the kissed hand does not detract from it, either. "Please, try all that you like." After she regains her composure and belatedly towels off her hands (from the grease and flour, not the kisses!), she smiles. "I am aware that I was not required to, but I wished to. Explicitly to make you feel spoiled, if only for a time. You are more than deserving, Dearest."

Auranar flashes yet another smile at Verna, enjoying the expression on the other woman's face. She then fills her plate with various goodies and settles down to try them. "I hope you intend to help me eat all this, because otherwise I'll be as big as this house by the end of the new year!"

"You could consider it retaliation for your unnaturally addictive sweets," Verna notes, not nearly as monotone as her norm, yet leaving it hang for a moment. "... Of course I will aid you." She gathers a variety of items for her own plate: at least one of each option, as it would be suspicious if the cook were to avoid something of their own making. After settling herself, and sampling a bite or two, she inquires, "You made a recommendation of reading, previously?" Yes, she was listening.

The wild elf is forced to set aside her fork from her food a moment to reply to Verna's question. "Yes! This one." She points to the book in question with her fork, then twists the fork to do her bidding. It gathers more food for her. "It's called 'Exploration of Dreams', by one Madison Farly. It has some interesting things to say about lucid dreaming. It even goes into detail about how to lucid dream. You might consider it as something to aid you in your own endeavors."

Verna's brow lifts, though also wrinkles. She does not immediately respond due to an ill(or well?)-timed bite. "An excellent find. I shall peruse it, when you are finished. The thought occurred to explore more within dreams, as that is the underlying context for so much that is happening. It is a prudent course of action..." Her brow knits before she exhales "...that I have been most reluctant to attempt."

"Because of what happened with Kol?" Auranar asks, perhaps a bit too astutely. She knows better than most the guilt associated with that name, as well as the more recent additions to Verna's dreams concerning the vampire.

Verna would not believe it needed stated, and the reminder stings enough to make her features wince. This, in turn, causes a sigh. "Yes. It may be only my personal fears manifest; he may have no interest in you, nor even myself, for that matter. Yet they are my fears all the same."

A simmering frown now grows, not directed at the vampire. "I should not be so ruled by them. We must learn more in order to prevent further horrors. -I- must." Her eyes shift towards the book in question, now. "Perhaps it shall help." Verna's gaze returns to Aura and she pushes forth a glimmer of smile through the frown. "Your wisdom has never led me astray, afterall."

Auranar herself winces, seeing Verna so hard on herself in the wake of her own words. "I'm sorry Verna. I shouldn't have brought it up. Not today." She sighs and shakes her head, putting aside her plate for a moment to reach out and grasp Verna's hand. "I hope that he has no interest in either of us. It would be better if he simply disappeared. But since I can not gift you his head, perhaps I can interest you in an exchange of Yule presents that are... not quite as good?"

"There is no need to apologize," Verna counters, smile growing and warming with the caring, steadying hand she receives. "In fact, the reminder does me well. He will disappear; I will be certain of it."

There is a momentary interlude with the mental image of Auranar offering up such an impractical, macabre, and yet pleasing gift, complete with festive bow. The net result does not dim her smile, and her focus returns to the present reality; which is most delightful "You ever interest me, love, and ever shall. Please."

Auranar grins and races upstairs to collect the present she'd hidden there. It'd taken some doing, but thankfully Verna didn't often look beneath the bed. She returns with a large box and a smaller one on top of it. These she offers to the other woman with a broad grin. "I hope you like them. I had them commissioned months ago. Well not the one on top, that's... different. Here! Before I give it all away!" She laughs and pushes the boxes toward Verna.

Verna blinks in mild surprise as Aura dashes away, but this does not dampen any of her curiosity nor smile. She blinks again upon the return: not at the boxes that she accepts, but the mention of commission. "Months ago? I ... I fear my preparations of gift was not so thoughtfully planned... I shall do better next time."

Her flash of guilt at inadequacy is pushed aside in favor of the generosity at hand and she opens them, from the top down. It is only practical, and opting for the largest first could be seen as greed or entitlement, regardless.

"These are wonderful, and most practical. I am most grateful," Verna notes of the gloves as she retrieves them from the box to admire them and the material by sight and touch. They also harken back to their first exchange of gifts. Has it been so long? Was it not several past? In many ways, it feels as if both and neither could be true.

The larger box is opened and she takes longer moments to note the pillows and the images thereupon. All three cause her smile to widen, in turn, before she looks back up to Auranar. "If this imagery is to suggest that I love your food to the point that I shall quickly tip the scales, it is quite accurate."

Auranar laughs at Verna's words. "Not at all. They're _for_ your cauldron! So that when you set out in it you're not sitting on cold metal the whole way. I always worry in the winter that you're going to freeze your butt off." She laughs again at her own turn of phrase. "I hope you like them. The scales are meant to represent Vardama, and the heart is to remind you of me."

Was that a wink? From Verna, in addition to jest? Well, it may be quickly lost in her surprise at the intent for the pillows as she blinks. "Oh! I had presumed they were for the bed, and that we might thus need a larger one to accommodate." Her cheeks turn ruddy once more. "Thank you. Again, thoughtful and practical. They will certainly make travel more comfortable, in any weather."

"I'm glad you like them. Not everyone appreciates more practical gifts." Auranar has the grace to look embarrassed. "That said, I think that they're nice _and_ practical! Honestly the embroidery took so long that I was worried it wouldn't be ready in time for the holiday."

"I do," a statement to both concerns. "They are quite nice," Verna agrees as she looks over the pillows once more, now tracing over the embroidery with her fingers. "I will do my utmost to see that they are treated well..." She returns her gaze to Auranar, "Though you should well know that I need no object to remind me of you. You are, by far, the greatest gift I have ever received, and I am ever grateful."

"To which... I do have one more surprise." Auranar looks down briefly and then up again. "I know you've been incredibly patient, but... Grandmother has officially invited us both to the family Curuchuil. I'm still not sure what we'll add, but..." Her cheeks are hot and she reaches out for Verna's hand again. "I want us to be married Verna. Together."

Patient. That is not the term Verna would have expected. Uncertain. Terrified. Hiding behind potential world-ending terrors, perhaps.

Verna's gaze is slightly unfocused as her hand is taken once more. A look Auranar is well familiar with as thoughts branch out in their threads: analyzing, calculating, and postulating. Does she yet feel a ready and worthy addition? Perhaps not, but that may never change nor take far too long. That has been her primary concern, always. Whether or not she wished to marry Auranar was never even dignified to be a question.

After a moment, Verna reaches up with her other to hold Auranar's hand between her own. "We will add what suits us, what represents us. That is the purpose, yes?" She has studied up on the matter, though obviously does not have the full cultural context.

"I never felt there was a need for haste, Aura: we wished to and so we would. I do not require ceremony to know my heart, that you are always within it. That said, I would proudly declare it before any and all, without hesitation. We should accept the invitation. All other concerns shall be secondary to that, for that."

"If nothing else... I want you to see the trees that were planted for the union of my parents." Auranar smiles shyly. "I know we'll add something perfect Verna. Something that'll represent us for all the years to come." Here she squeezes Verna's hand gently and then seems as though she might tear up.

Verna returns the squeeze. "I very much look forward to seeing it, and your grandmother. I am certain that you shall create a most perfect thing, and I shall do my utmost not to wilt nor mar it." A brief flash of smile with this truth, possible exaggeration or not. After all these certainties, she thinks to inquire, "Are we expected upon a certain date?"

"Within the next month." She answers gently, her eyes still lowered. "Though adding to the Curuchuil is usually done in spring. You know... because planting season." There's something more there, some worry in Auranar that she's hiding behind the fall of her black and pink hair.

A very good reason for spring ceremonies, which may have been what Verna expected. This raises some concerns that -may- be beyond her own nerves, and see senses the hint of the same from Auranar. "I presume there is cause for a mid-winter ceremony? Due to the recent changes in Llyranost?" She is speculating, and fishing, neither of which is typical for her.

"I'm so afraid Verna!" Auranar finally breaks down, her eyes scrunched closed. "She hates me Verna. She always has. She blames me because her daughter is dead and... I know she'll find any reason that she can to prevent a mark of mine from being there. Even though something should have been done for my birth she found reasons not to and now..." She shakes her head hopelessly.

Verna blinks (for the umpteenth time tonight) and her eyes widen. This is anything but expected. Surprise promptly turns to concern and she shifts nearer to embrace Auranar. She just holds, and listens. She also processes. Obviously, grandmother is in error, mishandling her grief. Worse, she targeted her own granddaughter. Most grievous, she made Auranar cry.

"Love, it is alright. Even if she dislikes you, we should not allow that to mar your wishes." She invited us, at the least. Why? For propriety? The timing, unusual, perhaps the worst for new growth. To ensure failure? She may not be the most socially-adept, but she is more familiar than she wishes with such politicking. But enough theories.

"If she wishes to prevent your mark there, then I am all the more determined that you make it. We cannot change what is done, but we can determine what we do now, and then."

Auranar is obviously glad for Verna's comfort, and even moreso for her words. The combination set her to tears for a moment but she quickly regains control and hugs Verna back. "Your right. I know you're right. We deserve a place there Verna, and I want everyone to know that I love you. The family, the whole country if I could make them know it!" She makes a small amused noise and rises to her feet so she can hug Verna properly. "We'll make our mark Verna. One way or another. If I have to sneak in there and plant the flowers in the dead of night!" Verna aids her to stand, or at least offers. All the better to more quickly improve the hugs. Auranar's shift to encouraged is warming, though her words also make Verna blush (yet again). She is speechless a moment, for she makes an important note. "We," she corrects. "It would be the both of us darting in the night to plant flowers, if such became necessary."

"Us." Auranar agrees readily. "You and me against everything." She kisses Verna. First on the lips and then quickly across the face. Peppering the other woman with affection until she's laughing and Verna is smiling. "I love you Verna. So much."

Verna is smiling, indeed. In fact, it has progressed past 'smiling' and more into a realm between 'grinning like a fool' and 'beaming in awe.' Presuming there is a distinction between the two. Perhaps it is simply both. Her first response is a simple, mechanical nod. When she regains her powers of speech, she adds. "And I you. Always."

-End