Port of Souls Lacey
Doorlans have been watching me more. Studying me. I studied his gaze. Looking puzzled, I'm like a book he is trying to disphere. He is out of it. I waves a hand dramatically in his face ,to get him out of his trance.
It was Bomb's turn in the kitchen.
The smell of honey gifts through the air like tidal waves. The aroma of fresh strawberries drizzled like rain in the air.
"Food is served," Bomb says, with a smile on her face.
She brings out mountains of sugar galore.pancakes drowning in honey chocolate. Towers of strawberries which lack smooth chocolate to drip them into.
I glanced at the table, Doorlan was smiling. Doorlan.
The morning sun cast a warm glow on the breakfast table, adorned with a culinary masterpiece created by Bomb. Pancakes, dripping with syrup and melted chocolate, formed a tower of temptation, and plump strawberries added a burst of colour to the decadent display. The room was filled with the rich aroma of breakfast delights, and the clinking of utensils against plates punctuated the air as we prepared to savour the feast.
Amid the anticipation, an unexpected knock on the door interrupting breakfast, Kirn, always one to revel in the dramatic, screaming at someone who passed him something, "its Krin with a K." leaped from his seat with theatrical flair, commanding everyone to remain in their positions. With a grand flourish, he swung open the door and returned bearing a small, heart-shaped box adorned with a delicate ribbon.
Presenting the box to me with a cheeky grin, Kirn's blue eyes sparkled mischievously, hinting at the depth of his intentions. As I opened the box, a delicate necklace revealed itself—a trinket featuring a tiny silver key. Its symbolism lingered in the air, a whispered promise of connection and unlocking hidden emotions.
Bomb's pancakes, a culinary masterpiece that rivalled her explosive prowess, awaited our attention. Each bite was a symphony of flavours—a sweet dance between syrup and chocolate, punctuated by the vibrant burst of strawberries. The decadence mirrored the sweetness of Bomb's soul, the explosion expert among our group, who observed our reactions with a satisfied smile.
I couldn't help but love the necklace that adorned my neck, I was the key to his heart.
On the other side of the table, Krin dove into his portion with unrestrained enthusiasm, prompting a lighthearted scolding from Bomb. "Krin, chew your food! You're not in a race against time," she teased, her words accompanied by laughter that echoed through the room.
Simon, the silent member of our group, observed the lively scene with his watchful, silent gaze. Known for his expressive laughter, he slammed the table repetitively when amused, adding a percussive element to the breakfast symphony.
The banter between Bomb and Krin, filled the room with laughter. Doorlan, sitting across from me, seemed momentarily distracted as his gaze lingered on me, but as soon as our eyes met, he looked away. His mysterious demeanour this morning had eluded me why he was acting so strange.
As the group dispersed, Krin, with a theatrical declaration, announced his intention to join me. Striding purposefully, he took long strides, and as he approached, he playfully fed me a chocolate-covered strawberry. Our banter, filled with romantic innuendos, drew the attention of our friends.
"Looks like love is in the air," Bomb chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
"And pancakes on the table," Krin added with a grin.
Simon's laughter, expressed through rhythmic table slams, resonated in response to the light-hearted exchange. The room was alive with the vibrancy of friendship, love, and shared laughter.
Our banter, filled with romantic innuendos, drew the attention of our friends.
Amid the dispersing group, Krin finally handed me his gift—a handwritten note expressing sentiments that stirred my heart. As our fingers brushed, a warmth enveloped me. His lips met mine in a sweet kiss, and I was swept away in the gentle intensity of the moment.
In that intimate exchange, I felt the softness of his lips, each touch a promise of affection. The taste of chocolate lingered on my tongue, intermingling with the sweetness of the kiss. It was a moment that transcended the breakfast table, a connection that unfolded in the midst of laughter, banter, and the lingering flavours of a morning filled with unexpected surprises.
The attention to detail, the precision in flavour pairing, and the overall presentation mirrored the refined taste expected in royal courts. It was as if Bomb had crafted a breakfast fit for a princess, where every bite felt like a journey through a realm of culinary delight. I would hire her in a second.
YOU ARE READING
Crown On My Head
FantasyI am to be wed. Without a voice, Lacey must find it. Through the hazy fog which surrounds her. Making her unsure and doubtful in her skills to succeed to the top. Where no woman has ever made it. Queen. The princess finds her way through a crew of...
