╱‍ ‍ ‍ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 (📌) ヾ

Still, his temper didn’t falter in the slightest, as if used to such guests; continuing with his food. “Let me know when you’re done,” he said, turning back to glance at the fire. “The meat should be done by now.”

close to their cabin, immediately catching his attention. They were both capable individuals: but he’d rather not be disturbed, even less caught off-guard. “It seems,” he replied. “We’ll both have to go fetch the logs.” It was logical: one held the axe, the other held the tree.

that cared not for diplomacy. He refilled his bowl, offering to do the same to hers; after all, those were easily obtained ingredients, and he had already made a surplus of food. Eating nicely during those three days wouldn’t be an issue. He stood still, though —a howl, quite

First wasn’t a man of many words, after all; but he had built an empire with his own two hands, and so his comrades rested easy he was the one in charge of their safety. Eliza could even be able to feel a glimpse of that: a warmth unlike any other, resolute and unyielding,

made the soup. “We don’t have running water here. But I can get you some snow to melt and boil, so you don’t freeze while trying to clean anything.” That was his way of caring for his subordinates: not straight up saying so, but letting his actions speak for themselves. The

burning. Basking in the orange glow of a tender warmth, sheltered beneath a roof and within a cabin made from his own efforts. That peace was deserved, in a sense. For both of them. Earned. “As you may imagine,” he said, looking for a moment to the cauldron in which he had

something truly terrible. As if the calm before the storm, the quietude that predated the scream. But… He didn’t particularly dislike the idea of actually slowing down. Of indulging in such a simple time, merely having to tend to the food over the fire and the logs to keep it

knowing very well they could survive anything thrown at them during their waking moments. Yet: it wasn’t an easy life. It hadn’t been a simple path, surviving for so long; a body so weary, a mind so used to hardships, that even a moment of peace seemed only like the preface to

winter’s grasp and the harsh frostbite of a long night. After all, they were both survivors. They had the experience to back such claim, the scars to prove the horrors they had faced; and the nightmares that only came along to such wicked tunes, that only crept up at night

Oh, he wasn’t worried. He knew very well that his companion could survive the spiciness of a warm bowl of soup, or even the different flavors of the meat that was slowly being cooked over the fire; for those were even considered luxuries at that point, in a nation ruled by

[ooc] OKAY To all the lovely people here: I am so very sorry for the delay, but (hopefully) everything's bookmarked and will tend to it on these upcoming days. See you all soon. ❤️

Oh, he's alright indeed; merely busy with schemes beyond the current time, planning forward to their liberation. Yet: if she's one to check, she's always welcome to find him in his office. Tread lightly, though, for the First may be asleep against the back of his chair.

the First found peaceful shelter within the confines of that cabin; a fireplace, a warm meal, and some company to his usual solitude. He certainly was in no position to complain. “You are not yet used to the spice, are you?” he asked, noticing the other's reaction.

than functional under such harsh weather; that was how they survived the eternal winter. “It is a pleasure to hear so,” he began, putting down his bowl to talk. “I was taught this recipe long, long ago. A true gem to endure these times.” Continuing with his own bowl,

he wouldn't actively oppose it. “Your help with the logs will be more than enough.” Letting his brims taste the soup, now; the warmth of recently made food filling his spirit, breathing fire anew to an almost exhausted candle. Recipes made to endure the bitter cold, and be more

different from the usual routine. He hadn't wrapped his mind around it, unable to decipher whether he liked it or not: but, judging by his demeanor, it was far from being an annoyance. “There is no need to,” he replied, yet not dismissively. If she so wanted to return the favor,

sorts; to let the tired soul rest beyond any worry, knowing he'd be there in case a problem arose. Luckily, beyond the need for more logs, there was nothing to rush their pace. And, if he was to be honest, taking his time for a meal, and even being joined in it, surely felt

caress, of one's disinterested actions, with only a promise of retribution? He wasn't doing anything with hopes of gaining her favor; no elaborate scheme, no underhanded tactics, nor wicked guise to cover his true intentions. That was but a genuine effort of his, a gift of

Favors. Truly an interesting thing to hear, after so long. Was this the long forgotten camaraderie, upon two weary souls who only wanted to survive yet another day? Or was this a different kind of bond, of mutual acceptance, that let them enjoy the particularity of one's absent