Serendipitous Act 1: Danoloma

5. Find The Recipe, You Won't Regret It

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Florijan likes to think of herself as a very reasonable person.

She is strong. A mature and enlightened heiress who is preparing for her ascension and whose power is not to be taken lightly.

Whether or not this is a true fact however, is up for debate.

Amanet is... Looking better.

The grayish stains from their last meal's blood have mostly faded from where it dribbled down their chin and their hands.

Florijan fixed their clothing, and Amanet thanked her with a pretty bracelet made of some sort of shimmery white metal, inlaid with glittering blue stones.

Florijan's ears twitch involuntarily at the familiar noise of Shirley's footsteps, the front door opening and gently closing.

Then, Amanet opens the door Florijan was sitting against, sending her sprawling backwards and onto the floor.

Amanet crouches and leans to meet her stony gaze with an upside down grin, their hair falling around Florijan's face like a curtain. "Is lurking in my room more comfortable than the bathtub, *Princezo*?"

"Do not call me that."

This has become somewhat of a routine for them these past few days.

Amanet reaches out a hand to steady themselves on a wall as they rise, smugly silent despite the slight tremor in their knees. They pad off into the common room. Florijan rises with a single elegant motion and follows.

Nothing has changed about the room, surprising no one. Shirley's coat and espadrilles are missing from their spots by the door.

"Shirley made syrniki, but I'm one hundred percent sure you can digest it?" Amanet says, patting the couch until they find two cushions. They drop the cushions onto the low table, and go into the cookery.

"Say it again?" Florijan says, arranging the cushions properly on the floor by the aforementioned table on either side. Pink embroidered one for Amanet, fuzzy yellow for herself.

"Syr-knee-kee," Amanet says, rummaging through the fridge, "But you say it faster, roll the R."

Florijan makes herself comfortable, "Syrniki?"

"That's good! You want any toppings?."

"It would be best if I tried them first."

At that, Amanet responds by throwing one of the small, stout panned cakes over the kitchen island.

Florijan extends her arm with a flourish to catch it.

It sails over where her left hand would be and hits the wall, with a small 'splat' then rolls down and lands on top of the teller of visions.

Florijan breathes in sharply, eyes wide and looking blankly at where the syrniki landed. It stares back mockingly. Florijan distantly feels her eyes welling up.

She feels three small taps on her other hand, the one she has clenched into a tight first on the table. Amanet says something softly, and Florijan nods.

Amanet wiggles their fingers between Florijan's, easing her grip and slipping their thinner hand into hers, and another over the back, encasing it in a small cage.

Florijan goes to cover her face, and realises her mistake halfway. She grits her teeth to keep the tears at bay.

"Do you want a hug?"