hephaesta
wordsmith
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“ BİLMEYE CÜRET ET ! “
cyberpunk-2077-confessions
Cyberpunk 2077 Confessions
milinary
✧Rad Chemist✧
litriu
bonjour
Text
I swear I havent abandoned this I have just been Thee Most Tired recently. Anyway.
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Cloudy...
Question: Where will you go?
Response: Go out - I’ll get better experience outside.
‘I’ll go outside,’ you decide quickly. The table can wait; it’s less important to you right now than a chance to start your first big solo job.
Deema’s face relaxes into relief.
‘Okay, so, clouds rolling in from the north,’ you continue. ‘I assume I’m going to let rain out of them before they build up more?’
‘Yes, either that, divert them, or both. I’ll neutralise them from here if it takes you too long - I won’t suffer for your incompetence.’
‘Thanks, Deema.’ You don’t point out that the incompetence hasn’t been proven yet.
She has you run through your plan backwards and forwards before leaving you to pack. You only bring the bare essentials - Reginald, obviously, the rain crystals that you haven’t used for a while, a fan, and your mitts. You hover over the shards of broken bowl but decide against it - it won't be easy to whittle away at it without having the table to compare it to.
Deema dismisses you by saying that Moss will take you part of he way because she’s paying him, and a little further because he owes her a favour.
Moss waves you into the wagon parked at the cottage gate. He doesn’t offer conversation past a brief hello, electing to talk to his horse instead. You don’t mind.
He only stops when the town is far behind you and the clouds are a little ways ahead. The wind here would blow right through your jacket if not for the sigils.
‘This is as far as the agreement goes.’
You climb out of the wagon as gracefully as you can and stand in grass that ripples with the wind, looking at the sky and thinking over your options. The clouds are darker than they were when you first saw them.
You can stay here, where the telltale twinge hasn’t reached your fingers yet. The fan will be more than enough to blow the crystals to the clouds and there will definitely be enough time to fix the table before dark.
You can go closer to the clouds until you feel something in your fingers - it won’t be entirely comfortable, but you’ll have more control over where the crystals fly.
You could also ask Moss to take you closer in return for a favour. A little rain never hurt anyone.
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Cloudy...
Question: Where will you go?
Response: Go out - I’ll get better experience outside.
‘I’ll go outside,’ you decide quickly. The table can wait; it’s less important to you right now than a chance to start your first big solo job.
Deema’s face relaxes into relief.
‘Okay, so, clouds rolling in from the north,’ you continue. ‘I assume I’m going to let rain out of them before they build up more?’
‘Yes, either that, divert them, or both. I’ll neutralise them from here if it takes you too long - I won’t suffer for your incompetence.’
‘Thanks, Deema.’ You don’t point out that the incompetence hasn’t been proven yet.
She has you run through your plan backwards and forwards before leaving you to pack. You only bring the bare essentials - Reginald, obviously, the rain crystals that you haven’t used for a while, a fan, and your mitts. You hover over the shards of broken bowl but decide against it - it won't be easy to whittle away at it without having the table to compare it to.
Deema dismisses you by saying that Moss will take you part of he way because she’s paying him, and a little further because he owes her a favour.
Moss waves you into the wagon parked at the cottage gate. He doesn’t offer conversation past a brief hello, electing to talk to his horse instead. You don’t mind.
He only stops when the town is far behind you and the clouds are a little ways ahead. The wind here would blow right through your jacket if not for the sigils.
‘This is as far as the agreement goes.’
You climb out of the wagon as gracefully as you can and stand in grass that ripples with the wind, looking at the sky and thinking over your options. The clouds are darker than they were when you first saw them.
You can stay here, where the telltale twinge hasn’t reached your fingers yet. The fan will be more than enough to blow the crystals to the clouds and there will definitely be enough time to fix the table before dark.
You can go closer to the clouds until you feel something in your fingers - it won’t be entirely comfortable, but you’ll have more control over where the crystals fly.
You could also ask Moss to take you closer in return for a favour. A little rain never hurt anyone.
12 notes
·
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Text
Cloudy...
Question: Where will you go?
Response: Go out - I’ll get better experience outside.
‘I’ll go outside,’ you decide quickly. The table can wait; it’s less important to you right now than a chance to start your first big solo job.
Deema’s face relaxes into relief.
‘Okay, so, clouds rolling in from the north,’ you continue. ‘I assume I’m going to let rain out of them before they build up more?’
‘Yes, either that, divert them, or both. I’ll neutralise them from here if it takes you too long - I won’t suffer for your incompetence.’
‘Thanks, Deema.’ You don’t point out that the incompetence hasn’t been proven yet.
She has you run through your plan backwards and forwards before leaving you to pack. You only bring the bare essentials - Reginald, obviously, the rain crystals that you haven’t used for a while, a fan, and your mitts. You hover over the shards of broken bowl but decide against it - it won't be easy to whittle away at it without having the table to compare it to.
Deema dismisses you by saying that Moss will take you part of he way because she’s paying him, and a little further because he owes her a favour.
Moss waves you into the wagon parked at the cottage gate. He doesn’t offer conversation past a brief hello, electing to talk to his horse instead. You don’t mind.
He only stops when the town is far behind you and the clouds are a little ways ahead. The wind here would blow right through your jacket if not for the sigils.
‘This is as far as the agreement goes.’
You climb out of the wagon as gracefully as you can and stand in grass that ripples with the wind, looking at the sky and thinking over your options. The clouds are darker than they were when you first saw them.
You can stay here, where the telltale twinge hasn’t reached your fingers yet. The fan will be more than enough to blow the crystals to the clouds and there will definitely be enough time to fix the table before dark.
You can go closer to the clouds until you feel something in your fingers - it won’t be entirely comfortable, but you’ll have more control over where the crystals fly.
You could also ask Moss to take you closer in return for a favour. A little rain never hurt anyone.
#polls#cyoa#the majority of this was written for almost a week but ive been having the worst time trying to write on my phone#gotta change my approach
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Table fixing...
Question: Study break! You...
Response: Fix the table.
There's enough time left in the day to start considering fixing the wobbly table. It'll make future study sessions more pleasant and maybe Deema can, like, have tea on it or something.
You bundle up your study materials and leave them inside in a place you can’t possibly miss tomorrow morning. There’s no way you’re getting work done now the table’s snagged your attention.
Closer examination shows the join between one of the legs and the tabletop isn’t flush. Your prodding reveals the folded scraps of paper wedged in the gap in an effort to close it up are falling apart.
You sigh and pull the papers from the gap. A thought occurs to you and you try to lay them as flat as you can to see if they might be useful but the papers all seem to be old shopping lists.
It was worth a shot, you think to yourself as you scrunch them up. You’ll just have to find a block of wood to wedge between the tabletop and leg.
Which is what you’ll do tomorrow.
--
The next morning you scour the yard and cottage for anything that might be useful. You're almost ready to take up Lex's offer for some driftwood when you find what looks like a broken wooden bowl at the back of a cubpoard. You pick up the biggest pieces and leave them on the table outside for later.
‘New job,’ Deema mutters when you're back inside.
‘From the council?’ You're very okay with plans changing, you tell yourself.
She makes a disgusted sound. ‘No. Clouds rolling in from the north. You can go out on your own or handle it from here.’
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Start
Previous | Next
Table fixing...
Question: Study break! You...
Response: Fix the table.
There's enough time left in the day to start considering fixing the wobbly table. It'll make future study sessions more pleasant and maybe Deema can, like, have tea on it or something.
You bundle up your study materials and leave them inside in a place you can’t possibly miss tomorrow morning. There’s no way you’re getting work done now the table’s snagged your attention.
Closer examination shows the join between one of the legs and the tabletop isn’t flush. Your prodding reveals the folded scraps of paper wedged in the gap in an effort to close it up are falling apart.
You sigh and pull the papers from the gap. A thought occurs to you and you try to lay them as flat as you can to see if they might be useful but the papers all seem to be old shopping lists.
It was worth a shot, you think to yourself as you scrunch them up. You’ll just have to find a block of wood to wedge between the tabletop and leg.
Which is what you’ll do tomorrow.
--
The next morning you scour the yard and cottage for anything that might be useful. You're almost ready to take up Lex's offer for some driftwood when you find what looks like a broken wooden bowl at the back of a cubpoard. You pick up the biggest pieces and leave them on the table outside for later.
‘New job,’ Deema mutters when you're back inside.
‘From the council?’ You're very okay with plans changing, you tell yourself.
She makes a disgusted sound. ‘No. Clouds rolling in from the north. You can go out on your own or handle it from here.’
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Table fixing...
Question: Study break! You...
Response: Fix the table.
There's enough time left in the day to start considering fixing the wobbly table. It'll make future study sessions more pleasant and maybe Deema can, like, have tea on it or something.
You bundle up your study materials and leave them inside in a place you can’t possibly miss tomorrow morning. There’s no way you’re getting work done now the table’s snagged your attention.
Closer examination shows the join between one of the legs and the tabletop isn’t flush. Your prodding reveals the folded scraps of paper wedged in the gap in an effort to close it up are falling apart.
You sigh and pull the papers from the gap. A thought occurs to you and you try to lay them as flat as you can to see if they might be useful but the papers all seem to be old shopping lists.
It was worth a shot, you think to yourself as you scrunch them up. You’ll just have to find a block of wood to wedge between the tabletop and leg.
Which is what you’ll do tomorrow.
--
The next morning you scour the yard and cottage for anything that might be useful. You're almost ready to take up Lex's offer for some driftwood when you find what looks like a broken wooden bowl at the back of a cupboard. You pick up the biggest pieces and leave them on the table outside for later.
‘New job,’ Deema mutters when you're back inside.
‘From the council?’ You're very okay with plans changing, you tell yourself.
She makes a disgusted sound. ‘No. Clouds rolling in from the north. You can go out on your own or handle it from here.’
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Group study...
Question: What do you do now?
Response: Flip the pages for her. We are in the zone.
'Oh, Deema, let me get that for you,' you say as you lean over and flip the page for her.
'I haven't known a moment's peace since you came here,' she comments wryly.
You hand freezes over the notebook. Is she not in the zone? But then Deema continues reading aloud and providing characteristically judgemental comments.
She stops mid-sentence halfway down the next page. You think you really did overstep this time until she says, 'I want Reginald.'
Dads and the pets they say they don't want, you think, but bring him from his special heat stone. 'Be a good boy,' you whisper to him.
She folds her hands around him and continues to read. You abandon the idea of making notes on two booklets at once and lose all hope of Deema drinking her tea.
When Deema finishes reading she closes her eyes. You copy out diagrams the best you can - it's one thing to make notes for yourself but a very different thing to make them for someone with handwriting as neat as Dessa's.
You shake out your hand once you're done and move to pick up the booklet you had abandoned - but as if Deema can sense your thoughts she says, 'I'm not reading another word.'
'Ah,' you say.
She strokes Reginald's head and finally slurps down her tea.
'It's cold,' she grimaces.
'Whose fault is that?'
She scoffs and stands up to leave, Reginald still tucked in her arm.
‘So you don’t mind anymore that he’s haunted?’
‘He’s very polite.’ She leaves the room.
--
For a change of scenery you take the booklets and notebook out in the garden. The heat stones keep out the worst of the chill and the little table wobbles with every movement of your arm. There'll be time to fix it later. Reginald, you assume, will be spoiled inside.
Between the wobbling table, the cold, and not worrying about Dessa's judgement, your notes and sketches become considerably messier. But that doesn't bother you.
You flex your hand and pace around the garden. It's been some time since you've properly sat down here and you're only just noticing the new growth budding as winter shifts into spring.
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Start
Previous | Next
Group study...
Question: What do you do now?
Response: Flip the pages for her. We are in the zone.
'Oh, Deema, let me get that for you,' you say as you lean over and flip the page for her.
'I haven't known a moment's peace since you came here,' she comments wryly.
You hand freezes over the notebook. Is she not in the zone? But then Deema continues reading aloud and providing characteristically judgemental comments.
She stops mid-sentence halfway down the next page. You think you really did overstep this time until she says, 'I want Reginald.'
Dads and the pets they say they don't want, you think, but bring him from his special heat stone. 'Be a good boy,' you whisper to him.
She folds her hands around him and continues to read. You abandon the idea of making notes on two booklets at once and lose all hope of Deema drinking her tea.
When Deema finishes reading she closes her eyes. You copy out diagrams the best you can - it's one thing to make notes for yourself but a very different thing to make them for someone with handwriting as neat as Dessa's.
You shake out your hand once you're done and move to pick up the booklet you had abandoned - but as if Deema can sense your thoughts she says, 'I'm not reading another word.'
'Ah,' you say.
She strokes Reginald's head and finally slurps down her tea.
'It's cold,' she grimaces.
'Whose fault is that?'
She scoffs and stands up to leave, Reginald still tucked in her arm.
‘So you don’t mind anymore that he’s haunted?’
‘He’s very polite.’ She leaves the room.
--
For a change of scenery you take the booklets and notebook out in the garden. The heat stones keep out the worst of the chill and the little table wobbles with every movement of your arm. There'll be time to fix it later. Reginald, you assume, will be spoiled inside.
Between the wobbling table, the cold, and not worrying about Dessa's judgement, your notes and sketches become considerably messier. But that doesn't bother you.
You flex your hand and pace around the garden. It's been some time since you've properly sat down here and you're only just noticing the new growth budding as winter shifts into spring.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Group study...
Question: What do you do now?
Response: Flip the pages for her. We are in the zone.
'Oh, Deema, let me get that for you,' you say as you lean over and flip the page for her.
'I haven't known a moment's peace since you came here,' she comments wryly.
You hand freezes over the notebook. Is she not in the zone? But then Deema continues reading aloud and providing characteristically judgemental comments.
She stops mid-sentence halfway down the next page. You think you really did overstep this time until she says, 'I want Reginald.'
Dads and the pets they say they don't want, you think, but bring him from his special heat stone. 'Be a good boy,' you whisper to him.
She folds her hands around him and continues to read. You abandon the idea of making notes on two booklets at once and lose all hope of Deema drinking her tea.
When Deema finishes reading she closes her eyes. You copy out diagrams the best you can - it's one thing to make notes for yourself but a very different thing to make them for someone with handwriting as neat as Dessa's.
You shake out your hand once you're done and move to pick up the booklet you had abandoned - but as if Deema can sense your thoughts she says, 'I'm not reading another word.'
'Ah,' you say.
She strokes Reginald's head and finally slurps down her tea.
'It's cold,' she grimaces.
'Whose fault is that?'
She scoffs and stands up to leave, Reginald still tucked in her arm.
‘So you don’t mind anymore that he’s haunted?’
‘He’s very polite.’ She leaves the room.
--
For a change of scenery you take the booklets and notebook out in the garden. The heat stones keep out the worst of the chill and the little table wobbles with every movement of your arm. There'll be time to fix it later. Reginald, you assume, will be spoiled inside.
Between the wobbling table, the cold, and not worrying about Dessa's judgement, your notes and sketches become considerably messier. But that doesn't bother you.
You flex your hand and pace around the garden. It's been some time since you've properly sat down here and you're only just noticing the new growth budding as winter shifts into spring.
#i was really planning on updating yesterday but then i ended up reading about the history of superannuation legislation for two hours#for work! but it was interesting lol#polls#cyoa
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Study session...
Question: Where to first?
Response 1: Bug Deema while she's in a good mood.
Response 2: Library.
You give Deema some time to mellow in her feelings before you say, 'Remember Dessa? She had some questions about weather inland.'
Deema cracks an eye open and closes it again. 'She should have her own resources.'
'Well, yeah, ideally... but she said they were hard to come by - most stuff's written by and for us on the coast. She said she does most of the work herself.'
Deema sighs. 'Where is she based?'
'Not far off the south end of the Great Alpine Road, near the mountains.'
She nods thoughtfully. 'She won't find much there. But I have some works by Tiffany of the Spurs that may be of interest. What does she need?'
You flip through your notebook to find the page with Dessa's much neater handwriting. 'Information on heat fluctuation and air flow. And calibrating tools, because they're all built along the coast.'
Deema takes her time turning the questions over in her mind and then, as close to uncertain as you've ever heard her, says, 'I can't help with that.'
'Woah,' you whisper.
'My time inland wasn't extensive enough to give sufficient answers,' she amends.
She sits up. 'Go to the library. Borrow *On Mountain Winds. I gave it up to them after I lost one of their books,' she adds bitterly.
'Sounds like a sore memory.'
She scowls.
'Doesn't this make fun bonding? We're like two investigators.'
'Get out.'
--
The treatise remains out of reach despite your best efforts trawling the library shelves. You admit defeat and talk to a librarian.
He drums his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. 'That doesn't seem like something many people here will have a use for. It may be held in the town archives. Let me have a look.'
He leaves you alone at his desk. You take great interest in the wood grain.
You're close to giving up when the librarian returns with a narrow, pale green book. 'I think this was donated by your...'
'Uh... yeah. We'll bring it back,' you say awkwardly.
'Be sure you do.' You can only hope the amusement in his voice means there's no bad blood.
You resist the urge to swing your legs as he writes out a receipt.
'Thanks,' you mumble as you slip the book in your bag. 'See you soon.'
'Happy reading,' he replies, still amused.
--
Deema's spent the time you were out collating booklets from her own collection. 'Your friend can have these.'
She may be Deema's new favourite. 'And I have this,' you say, holding the thin book between your fingers.
Deema grimaces.
'I think I'll take some notes before posting these out.'
Your plan was to leave Deema alone to read while you took notes but those plans are dashed when she reads out points for you to jot down while you try to summarise the information in her booklets.
It's a small mercy when she announces her fingers have had enough of turning the pages.
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Start
Previous | Next
Study session...
Question: Where to first?
Response 1: Bug Deema while she's in a good mood.
Response 2: Library.
You give Deema some time to mellow in her feelings before you say, 'Remember Dessa? She had some questions about weather inland.'
Deema cracks an eye open and closes it again. 'She should have her own resources.'
'Well, yeah, ideally... but she said they were hard to come by - most stuff's written by and for us on the coast. She said she does most of the work herself.'
Deema sighs. 'Where is she based?'
'Not far off the south end of the Great Alpine Road, near the mountains.'
She nods thoughtfully. 'She won't find much there. But I have some works by Tiffany of the Spurs that may be of interest. What does she need?'
You flip through your notebook to find the page with Dessa's much neater handwriting. 'Information on heat fluctuation and air flow. And calibrating tools, because they're all built along the coast.'
Deema takes her time turning the questions over in her mind and then, as close to uncertain as you've ever heard her, says, 'I can't help with that.'
'Woah,' you whisper.
'My time inland wasn't extensive enough to give sufficient answers,' she amends.
She sits up. 'Go to the library. Borrow *On Mountain Winds. I gave it up to them after I lost one of their books,' she adds bitterly.
'Sounds like a sore memory.'
She scowls.
'Doesn't this make fun bonding? We're like two investigators.'
'Get out.'
--
The treatise remains out of reach despite your best efforts trawling the library shelves. You admit defeat and talk to a librarian.
He drums his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. 'That doesn't seem like something many people here will have a use for. It may be held in the town archives. Let me have a look.'
He leaves you alone at his desk. You take great interest in the wood grain.
You're close to giving up when the librarian returns with a narrow, pale green book. 'I think this was donated by your...'
'Uh... yeah. We'll bring it back,' you say awkwardly.
'Be sure you do.' You can only hope the amusement in his voice means there's no bad blood.
You resist the urge to swing your legs as he writes out a receipt.
'Thanks,' you mumble as you slip the book in your bag. 'See you soon.'
'Happy reading,' he replies, still amused.
--
Deema's spent the time you were out collating booklets from her own collection. 'Your friend can have these.'
She may be Deema's new favourite. 'And I have this,' you say, holding the thin book between your fingers.
Deema grimaces.
'I think I'll take some notes before posting these out.'
Your plan was to leave Deema alone to read while you took notes but those plans are dashed when she reads out points for you to jot down while you try to summarise the information in her booklets.
It's a small mercy when she announces her fingers have had enough of turning the pages.
12 notes
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Study session...
Question: Where to first?
Response 1: Bug Deema while she's in a good mood.
Response 2: Library.
You give Deema some time to mellow in her feelings before you say, 'Remember Dessa? She had some questions about weather inland.'
Deema cracks an eye open and closes it again. 'She should have her own resources.'
'Well, yeah, ideally... but she said they were hard to come by - most stuff's written by and for us on the coast. She said she does most of the work herself.'
Deema sighs. 'Where is she based?'
'Not far off the south end of the Great Alpine Road, near the mountains.'
She nods thoughtfully. 'She won't find much there. But I have some works by Tiffany of the Spurs that may be of interest. What does she need?'
You flip through your notebook to find the page with Dessa's much neater handwriting. 'Information on heat fluctuation and air flow. And calibrating tools, because they're all built along the coast.'
Deema takes her time turning the questions over in her mind and then, as close to uncertain as you've ever heard her, says, 'I can't help with that.'
'Woah,' you whisper.
'My time inland wasn't extensive enough to give sufficient answers,' she amends.
She sits up. 'Go to the library. Borrow *On Mountain Winds. I gave it up to them after I lost one of their books,' she adds bitterly.
'Sounds like a sore memory.'
She scowls.
'Doesn't this make fun bonding? We're like two investigators.'
'Get out.'
--
The treatise remains out of reach despite your best efforts trawling the library shelves. You admit defeat and talk to a librarian.
He drums his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. 'That doesn't seem like something many people here will have a use for. It may be held in the town archives. Let me have a look.'
He leaves you alone at his desk. You take great interest in the wood grain.
You're close to giving up when the librarian returns with a narrow, pale green book. 'I think this was donated by your...'
'Uh... yeah. We'll bring it back,' you say awkwardly.
'Be sure you do.' You can only hope the amusement in his voice means there's no bad blood.
You resist the urge to swing your legs as he writes out a receipt.
'Thanks,' you mumble as you slip the book in your bag. 'See you soon.'
'Happy reading,' he replies, still amused.
--
Deema's spent the time you were out collating booklets from her own collection. 'Your friend can have these.'
She may be Deema's new favourite. 'And I have this,' you say, holding the thin book between your fingers.
Deema grimaces.
'I think I'll take some notes before posting these out.'
Your plan was to leave Deema alone to read while you took notes but those plans are dashed when she reads out points for you to jot down while you try to summarise the information in her booklets.
It's a small mercy when she announces her fingers have had enough of turning the pages.
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World's slowest mug of tea...
Question: What now?
Response: I'm going to make the world's slowest mugs of tea.
You can't just stand here. 'I'm making tea,' you announce.
Deema ignores you. You extract yourself from the living room - it feels important to not make any sudden movements - and into the kitchen. Lex quietly follows.
Still trying to keep quiet, you arrange mugs, a teapot, a tin of tea, and a jar of honey from the neighbours on the bench top.
'Nah,' Lex mutters under their breath, and switches out a mug you had pulled out for one pushed to the back of the cupboard. 'This is my old one.'
You slowly fill the kettle with water, wishing it'll take its time boiling as you set it over a fire, but not much time passes before the kettle whistles.
'Is this what your mornings are like?' Lex asks.
'Killing time,' you say, and pour water in the teapot. 'Why's your mug here?'
They lean on their elbows. 'Used to come here a lot. What with her and my mentor's... whole thing.'
'But now I'm here?'
'You sure are.' They turn the jar of honey around. 'And so are the neighbours.'
You drum on the bench top and pull out a tray. 'I'll take these out before they turn stone cold.'
You respectfully avert your eyes when you see Deema with her hands buried in Pumpkin Bread's fur. 'Tea, if you want it.'
Deema ignores her mug in favour of Pumpkin Bread. Lex sits cross-legged on the floor across for your and you slowly sip tea together.
The silence draws out, punctuated by occasional purrs, and the tea goes cold in your mug long before you finish it.
You drum your fingers on the side of your mug. Eventually Lex pushes themself up. 'I've gotta be on my way.'
'Need a hand?'
'Nah, I'm almost done.'
They coax Pumpkin Bread off Deema's lap and into his basket with the promise of a treat. He reluctantly goes in.
'The wind should stay calm on the beach,' Deema murmurs, watching the basket. 'Be careful still.'
'You know me. I'm taking my mug, by the way.'
'Go play outside.'
Lex tucks the mug next to Pumpkin Bread and lets you kiss him one more time before they leave. Deema ignores you, again, and closes her eyes and flexes her fingers.
You refuse to twiddle your thumbs any longer. It's time to put your foot down and start studying for Dessa.
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World's slowest mug of tea...
Question: What now?
Response: I'm going to make the world's slowest mugs of tea.
You can't just stand here. 'I'm making tea,' you announce.
Deema ignores you. You extract yourself from the living room - it feels important to not make any sudden movements - and into the kitchen. Lex quietly follows.
Still trying to keep quiet, you arrange mugs, a teapot, a tin of tea, and a jar of honey from the neighbours on the bench top.
'Nah,' Lex mutters under their breath, and switches out a mug you had pulled out for one pushed to the back of the cupboard. 'This is my old one.'
You slowly fill the kettle with water, wishing it'll take its time boiling as you set it over a fire, but not much time passes before the kettle whistles.
'Is this what your mornings are like?' Lex asks.
'Killing time,' you say, and pour water in the teapot. 'Why's your mug here?'
They lean on their elbows. 'Used to come here a lot. What with her and my mentor's... whole thing.'
'But now I'm here?'
'You sure are.' They turn the jar of honey around. 'And so are the neighbours.'
You drum on the bench top and pull out a tray. 'I'll take these out before they turn stone cold.'
You respectfully avert your eyes when you see Deema with her hands buried in Pumpkin Bread's fur. 'Tea, if you want it.'
Deema ignores her mug in favour of Pumpkin Bread. Lex sits cross-legged on the floor across for your and you slowly sip tea together.
The silence draws out, punctuated by occasional purrs, and the tea goes cold in your mug long before you finish it.
You drum your fingers on the side of your mug. Eventually Lex pushes themself up. 'I've gotta be on my way.'
'Need a hand?'
'Nah, I'm almost done.'
They coax Pumpkin Bread off Deema's lap and into his basket with the promise of a treat. He reluctantly goes in.
'The wind should stay calm on the beach,' Deema murmurs, watching the basket. 'Be careful still.'
'You know me. I'm taking my mug, by the way.'
'Go play outside.'
Lex tucks the mug next to Pumpkin Bread and lets you kiss him one more time before they leave. Deema ignores you, again, and closes her eyes and flexes her fingers.
You refuse to twiddle your thumbs any longer. It's time to put your foot down and start studying for Dessa.
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World's slowest mug of tea...
Question: What now?
Response: I'm going to make the world's slowest mugs of tea.
You can't just stand here. 'I'm making tea,' you announce.
Deema ignores you. You extract yourself from the living room - it feels important to not make any sudden movements - and into the kitchen. Lex quietly follows.
Still trying to keep quiet, you arrange mugs, a teapot, a tin of tea, and a jar of honey from the neighbours on the bench top.
'Nah,' Lex mutters under their breath, and switches out a mug you had pulled out for one pushed to the back of the cupboard. 'This is my old one.'
You slowly fill the kettle with water, wishing it'll take its time boiling as you set it over a fire, but not much time passes before the kettle whistles.
'Is this what your mornings are like?' Lex asks.
'Killing time,' you say, and pour water in the teapot. 'Why's your mug here?'
They lean on their elbows. 'Used to come here a lot. What with her and my mentor's... whole thing.'
'But now I'm here?'
'You sure are.' They turn the jar of honey around. 'And so are the neighbours.'
You drum on the bench top and pull out a tray. 'I'll take these out before they turn stone cold.'
You respectfully avert your eyes when you see Deema with her hands buried in Pumpkin Bread's fur. 'Tea, if you want it.'
Deema ignores her mug in favour of Pumpkin Bread. Lex sits cross-legged on the floor across for your and you slowly sip tea together.
The silence draws out, punctuated by occasional purrs, and the tea goes cold in your mug long before you finish it.
You drum your fingers on the side of your mug. Eventually Lex pushes themself up. 'I've gotta be on my way.'
'Need a hand?'
'Nah, I'm almost done.'
They coax Pumpkin Bread off Deema's lap and into his basket with the promise of a treat. He reluctantly goes in.
'The wind should stay calm on the beach,' Deema murmurs, watching the basket. 'Be careful still.'
'You know me. I'm taking my mug, by the way.'
'Go play outside.'
Lex tucks the mug next to Pumpkin Bread and lets you kiss him one more time before they leave. Deema ignores you, again, and closes her eyes and flexes her fingers.
You refuse to twiddle your thumbs any longer. It's time to put your foot down and start studying for Dessa.
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