The tension was palpable and it makes her sick.

"No, no! I can handle it."

She sounds chipper, but her accent leaks through much stronger, more hurried. Gwen gently sets both plates down and the glasses along with it. A brief hand gesture brings her hair back behind her ear. It spills back into place immediately, but she glances back up to meet his gaze.

"Thank you for coming, Greyson."

And then, with a deep breath, she holds out her hand for him to shake.

"My name is Guinevere, it's very nice to meet you."

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

"Yeah.. yeah I like to keep my hands busy when I'm--"

She licks her lips, hesitates, looks away.

"--Stressed."

The glass in her hand clinks quietly against the countertop before the sound of water being poured into it follows. She smiles, though, puts on a brave face. And, with expert skill and fluid motion, Gwen balances the plates and drinks across her arms to carry them into the dining room.

"You really don't have to eat if you aren't hungry."

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

She exhales, sweat beads on her brow, and she lifts her arm to wipe it away. But as she does, there is a chilling sense of foreboding. The energy in the herd has changed and their legs are stiff with fear. As she stands and turns, the Wooloo at her feet remains on the ground, quivering.

"Umm.. yes!"

She answers the girl's question distractedly, her gaze shifting rapidly as she scans the horizon. Nothing seems to be amiss, but she has learned to pick up on the energy of the crowd. While she feels safe, evidently the herd does not.

But she fishes in her pack to find a water bottle. It is even chilled thanks to the freezer packs she's brought along. Always prepared. She offers a smile before tossing it to the girl, but her eyes return quickly to the Wooloo.

And then she hears it: faint howling.

mission: wooloo who cry wolf

Ann Nickolette

☉

In her attempts to ease the awkwardness, she worries she's making it worse. But he responds: '...polo?' and it gives her hope and a sense a relief. So she repeats herself, more encouraged, thrilled to hear him polo again and again.

He finds her, though her house is not that big, and she offers him a warm smile when he appears. But her attention is short because she's busy plating and hurriedly cleaning up after herself. There is no need to have a spotless kitchen, by any means, especially given the meal she's prepared- but she is in slightly more disarray than usual.

"You can just set it down on that hot pad there."

She gestures to the spot next to her, and she slides the plates down farther to give him room.

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

Oh, there was definitely a couple of people who had hit the ground in a deadlock - and Gwen had simply walked past. Her attention was elsewhere, her mind racing with possibilities and anxieties and stress all of her own. The matters of the people around her fell away into white noise.

She saw it, but she did not see it.

Not even when she steps over a woman on the ground who is clutching the last pumpkin pie. If she'd stopped to look, she might have even seen what would have been her shoving it into her mouth and forming cheek pouches on either side of her face. As if that would hide the fact she were eating the pie right there on the spot.

Somehow, miraculously, Gwen's cart of items is left untouched. The Ralts tucked in and buckled in like a child in the front of her cart sways from side to side, shaking what appears to be a cob of corn like he might a rattle.

"Hugo, love, don't bruise the food, please."

She gently plucks it from his tiny hands and sets it down. But a moment later, he telekinetically brings it right back.

"Hmm.. perhaps we should pick up some extra bandaids. What do you think?"

Gwen turns the corner and heads down the aisle filled to the brim with various first-aid supplies. Her attention wanders, lingering on nothing in particular. Eventually, she comes to a halt to pluck two differently branded packages from the shelf. As she examines them, movement catches her eye and she quickly moves her cart to allow whoever it is to pass her.

"Oh! Apologies, I didn't mean to--"

She stops herself short, glancing up abruptly for a second take.

mission: feast or famine (aa)

lilith eirwin

☉

"Thank you!"

She calls from over her shoulder, already in the kitchen. Nerves make her incredibly fast, apparently. So when he eventually asks, from the front entry, where the kitchen is, Gwen says the first thing to come to mind:

"Marco!"

And then she waits, plates clinking together softly while she sets them on the counter. The glasses are next, and she fishes for the pitcher of ice water. Hopefully, if he plays along, she's able to repeat: "Marco!"

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

She laughs lightly, and although the noise is not forced or strained, there is a note of awkwardness behind it.

Happens to the best of us, he said, but somehow it feels like maybe he hadn't meant it in the way she's picked it up. She isn't the best of them, clearly, or she wouldn't have left.

But she'd had to.

"Oh, uh-- you don't have to eat if you aren't hungry. I just sort of.. I cook when I'm anxious. It helps relax me, put my focus on something."

She babbles on a bit, relieved when he takes the coffee from her, oblivious to the flip-flop of his stomach at the prospect of caffeine. But his offer to help brings her back up and she stops, exhales, and meets his gaze. She searches his violet hues for a moment, lost in thought, before responding.

"Uhh, no! No, I think I have it all handled. Actually, I think the second pie is just about done, if you wanted to pull it out of the oven for me to cool? I can handle the plating."

Second pie, because one hadn't been nearly enough to convey her feelings.

Greyson Connors

☉

Frustration is picked up on immediately, but Gwen knew how to choke a flame. Provide it no oxygen, no fuel, no attention at all. She overlooks it, ignores it, chooses to smile instead of encourage unfriendly feelings.

"Yes, of course, miss. My apologies."

With her own set of shears she's been given, Gwen kneels next to a Wooloo closest to her. She sets to work, choosing to be quiet to appease the girl with the volcano on top of her head. While she works, she smiles, efficiently shearing through all of the thick wool until it falls right off.

The girl shouts and Gwen glances up, eyebrows raised, to glance where she is looking. The farmer shouts back in kind, and eventually Ann returns her attention back to her, offering a greeting and a harsh inflection or suggestion.

"My name is Gwen! It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ann. Let's work efficiently then, oui?"

Once again, she dismisses Ann's rudeness in favor of kindness. Although it does sadden her a bit to hear her harsh words, she chooses to look past it. Some people were quite irritable in the heat, she had come to learn. Perhaps after, the pair of them could work the horses too with a nice horseback riding venture on one of the trails.

mission: wooloo who cry wolf

Ann Nickolette

☉

Where his smile might falter, she is there to catch it. She pulls the weight, willing to put in the effort and offer her own, stronger smile in comparison.

But she blinks at his stuttering attempt at communication, eyes trail to his fingertips, confused by their reaction. Her brows crease, the flour on her cheek, slightly damp when it was applied, crinkles.

"Oh! How embarrassing. I must have gotten carried away, I'm sure there is flour all over the kitchen."

She blushes, her skin turning rosy and she glances down at her feet. In doing so, she holds onto the feeling of his fingers against her cheek and the breathlessness it had left her with.

"Are you hungry? I prepared a little something for you-- oh, and I got you a coffee."

Quickly, so as to not leave him standing by the door, she darts away awkwardly to return with a coffee. It is extended toward him, and she offers another welcoming smile.

Greyson Connors

☉

He takes long enough, gives her long enough to bake something. Maybe something sweet will help smooth over the bitterness that they've been soaking in. She can only hope.

"Okay... pumpkin pie. Whipped topping.. whipped topping, I can't forget that part."

She hums, though her tune is nervous and hurried. Gwen brushes hair out of her face, unaware of the white streak she leaves across her cheek and in her hair. Over and over again she checks the clock. The hour ticks by and her front door doesn't make a sound.

Had he changed his mind?

She sets the pie off to the side just as the first knock sounds. Her anxiety flares, but so does hope and relief. By the third knock she is struggling to remove her apron and chooses to leave it on. She opens the door, eyes wide, staring up at him.

"... Hey."

Greyson Connors

☉

She has way too much food prepared for him to say no. She's expecting it anyway, and she probably deserves it. Her choice was warranted, it made sense, it was reasonable, but it was still unfair. It was still cruel. Her choice still had consequences, and she had still left him there at that party all by himself.

What?

She almost says it out loud, questions his answer. She almost fumbles the phone, falls to her knees, goes into shock.

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I will see you soon."

She waits a second longer in case he has anything else to say. She waits for him to hang up, and then she immediately turns back to her meal preparation. With a deep breath in, she glances over the stove top and the oven door and the plates left to warm in the dishwasher.

"He said yes."

Greyson Connors

☉

He says nothing, and she finds it hard to breathe. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

And then he apologizes, and suddenly the room doesn't feel so small. Her chest tightness fades and she exhales.

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry."

Her own voice is barely above a whisper, and she smiles even if he can't see it. It's small, easily missed, but he would have seen it. He should see it.

"Will you come.. over? You-- you don't have to stay the night, or anything. I just.. I would really.. like to see you."

There is a pause while she fumbles, desperate to not sound desperate or to make light of what had happened, what is happening--

"Please?"

Greyson Connors

☉