Lucetific - Fenimore's POV, for a change.
Oct. 15th, 2011 01:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: Love, Friendship, and Cake
Fandoms:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Eternal Sonata, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years, Tales of Phantasia
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Words: 2259 + 147 omake
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the above fandoms.
Summary: Taking care of Grune has seemed to involve an awful lot of cake lately. Unfortunately, none of it is for Fenimore.
Author's Notes: Working title: ALL THE CAKES. Somehow, though, I thought that lacked a certain...je ne sais quoi.
This story is set between August 31 and September 2, 2011. Yes, I am amazingly on top of things. :|b Also, writing Fenimore is fun. I'm going to have to do it more often. ♥
Fenimore was on her feet and out of her room almost before she'd finished registering the sound. Her movements weren't fast, but they certainly were practiced; in House 34, you ignored the sound of someone in the kitchen getting more than a snack at great peril—yours, and everybody else's.
Through the doorway, she spotted a veil float past, and so she returned to her room, picked up her bead loom and supplies, and went to settle herself at the kitchen table.
"Hello, Fenimore!" Grune greeted her, hard at work measuring flour into a bowl.
"Hi, Grune. What are you making?" She sneaked a glance at the open recipe book, then went to turn on the oven to warm it in advance.
Grune didn't seem to notice. "Oh, I'm making a cake!"
Fenimore sat down again and picked up her needle. "A cake, huh? Is it for us or someone else?"
"It's for Giles," was the cheerful reply. Drat. "I hope he likes it."
"I'm sure he will. You make good cakes." With prompting, anyway.
Grune beamed at her as though Fenimore had just told her she was the best baker in the history of the world—any world. "Oh, thank you! I'm going to do my best, so Giles will enjoy it."
She couldn't help but smile. "You do that. I'll keep you company over here." And make sure you don't burn the kitchen down.
Not too much later, as Fenimore was trying to hunt down five white beads for the pattern, Sophie walked into the kitchen, something cupped in her small hands.
"Fenimore," she began forlornly, and that got her attention pretty quickly.
"What's wrong, Sophie?" she asked.
"My bracelet broke." She opened her hands to show the brightly coloured beads she held. "Can you fix it?"
"Sure. You set those down right here" —she patted the table— "and bring me the rest. I'll have it fixed up in no time."
"Okay. Thank you. . . ." Sophie walked off . . . in the direction of her room. Good.
Hearing a "hmm" from Grune, Fenimore tossed out, "Baking powder." She hadn't seen that go into the mix yet.
"Oh, thank you, Fenimore." Grune unstuck from her memory lapse and went back to work.
That taken care of, Fenimore sorted through the beads Sophie had already brought her, trying to remember the bracelet's former pattern and watch Grune at the same time.
"Are those all your beads?" she asked Sophie, two trips later.
Sophie nodded. "I looked everywhere."
"Okay. I'm going to get some more string. Wait here, and stay away from the oven. It's hot right now."
She fetched a string and returned, giving Grune a "Vanilla." Stringing Sophie's beads back together was quick work, until she discovered they were a few short.
"Why don't we add some of my special beads?" Fenimore suggested, thinking quickly. "I'll bring out the box and you can tell me the three you like best. Does that sound good?"
Sophie, who had started to droop at the sight of the missing beads, looked cheered by the idea. Phew. "All right."
Fenimore checked on the cake when she returned, but luckily, Grune seemed to be on a roll, and so she could finally make some progress on her own project as Sophie began the incredibly long process of picking out three more beads. It seemed to involve examining every single bead in the box—twice.
Finally, Sophie made her choice, and Fenimore restrung the bracelet to better incorporate the new beads into the design. When she was done, she tied off the bracelet, trimmed the ends, and tugged on the string to be sure her knot was good. She then gave two theatrical tugs for Sophie's benefit.
"There," she announced. "All done." She slipped the bracelet on to the little girl's wrist, and got a smile in response.
"I'm going to go colour now," Sophie told her. "Thank you, Fen-Fen."
Fenimore managed to hold back her sigh until Sophie was out of earshot. Fen-Fen? She was really going to have to have a talk with Norma.
"Hmm. . . ."
"Cake goes in the oven, and make some icing while you're at it," she said automatically, and went back to work to the sound of Grune's eternally sincere thanks.
*
The next day, Fenimore stepped into the kitchen, inhaled, and smiled. "Something smells good. Are you making us a special dessert, Stella?" she asked her housemate, who was busy chopping vegetables.
"Not tonight," Stella replied. "Grune was baking earlier, though."
"Again? Huh." About to head inside, she realized she was still dripping a bit too much and stayed on the mat instead. Oops. "What's for supper?"
*
Defending yourself was a great goal to have, she thought grumpily as she went through the form for what had to be the two thousandth time that afternoon, but what about when you were the greatest danger to yourself? That's what she wanted to know. She wouldn't actually ask Suki, of course, but—
"Fenimore?" she heard Stella call.
She glanced over to the house. "Yes?"
"Could you pick up some groceries once you're done?" She rounded the corner. Fenimore tried to look competent. "I thought we had enough for supper, but we're nearly out of flour and eggs."
"Sure. I was almost finished, anyway." More like the form had almost finished her, but Stella didn't need to know that.
"Thank you, Fenimore. Don't let me keep you."
It was a complete coincidence that Fenimore waited until Stella had gone inside to continue practicing. One of her fans had needed adjusting. That was all.
*
Flour.
She really hated flour.
Why couldn't Walter have been around so Stella could have asked him? He liked heaving around heavy things. He did it for fun.
Being preoccupied by the unfairness of Walter's absence in the face of flour, it took her a while to notice someone wanted her attention.
"Ah—excuse me, miss."
She blinked, looked up, and matched the deep voice to the dark-haired man wearing—huh. That was quite the hat.
He looked . . . sort of concerned, until she set down the bag with the flour in it. . . . She was all red and sweaty, wasn't she.
"Forgive me for interrupting. This may seem an odd question, but are you Miss Fenimore?"
She frowned slightly. She'd seen this guy around the village, she thought, but how did he know her?
"Yes, I'm Fenimore," she said cautiously and waited.
"Allow me to introduce myself." He bowed to her. "I am Frédéric François Chopin. Miss Grune is my piano student, and also a friend."
. . . How many friends did Grune have, anyway? And— "Piano student?" Come to think of it, she had been asking about pianos a month or two back. So she had actually stuck with it? Really?
"Yes. She puts a great deal of effort into her playing," Frédéric replied with telling diplomacy. "It is on the subject of Miss Grune that I need to speak with you."
Oh great. Now what had she done? ". . . Yes?"
"Could you please request that she cease sending us quite so many cakes? It is a most generous gesture, but my fellow lodger, Helios, is on the verge of making himself ill."
Fenimore stared at him. "Wait. She's been sending all those cakes to you? Not different people?" So that's where all the flour had gone.
"Ah . . . not precisely." Something left the polite smile Frédéric had been wearing. "They are intended for my other fellow lodger, Giles. . . . However, he has been kidnapped these past three days."
Kidnapped. . . . Suddenly, it made a lot more sense, even if she really didn't want it to. After she had been kidnapped herself, for an entire month, she couldn't ignore what that meant anymore. And even if she didn't know Giles that well, he was kind. A good man. He didn't deserve—
Her mind shuddered away.
Instead, with her gaze focused on Frédéric's—scarf-thing, Fenimore explained, "She does this. When people. . . . When Dhaos went, she walked over to his apartment every day she could remember. She kept bringing fresh flowers.
“When” —she hesitated again— “someone else went, she stuffed her pet full of food until he nearly exploded. I think it's her way of trying to help. Even if. . . ." Even if there wasn't anything she could do.
"I see," Frédéric said softly. “That is very kind of her."
Fenimore shrugged, still not able to look at him. "That's Grune. . . . Anyway. I'll see what I can do the next time I talk her." She picked up her bags with a grimace. "Sorry for the trouble."
"It was no trouble at all. . . . Might I be of assistance?"
"No, it's—" Flour. "Sure." She held out the bag. "Thanks a lot."
Frédéric's eyes widened slightly as he took the load, but all the same, he managed another bow. She had to admit, she was impressed.
"It is my pleasure, Miss Fenimore."
*
It wasn't until quite late that night that Fenimore saw Grune again; she had missed supper and was gone for the entire evening. Fenimore was actually on the verge of locking up when Cecil—that white-haired guy who used to live next door—turned up with her, having quite obviously steered her home. She thanked him, said good night, and then, before Grune could wander off again, asked, "Hey, Grune, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Of course, Fenimore," Grune said immediately, and looked all set to have the discussion right in the entryway.
"Let's go to your room, so we don't wake anybody up," she suggested. Sophie would be asleep by now, and Fenimore wanted her to stay that way.
"All right," Grune said and ambled off, fortunately in the right direction.
When she walked into Grune's room, Fenimore did a quick scan for missing dishes. None today, but that was probably because she'd checked yesterday, before her swim. She thought the mass of drawings and fotagraphs on the walls had increased since then, although by this point, it was impossible to be sure.
She went to sit in the one chair in Grune's room, at her desk, and her gaze fell on a half-finished picture of what had to be Giles. She looked away.
"I was talking with one of your friends today. . . ." Wait. Who was he, again? He had a weird name, and. . . . "You know, the one with the funny hat?"
Grune looked blanker than usual, and Fenimore sighed. "Of course you wouldn't notice. . . ." Oh, right. "Frédéric?"
Grune's smile in response was radiant—as usual. "Oh, yes! He's such a nice person, isn't he?"
"Yeah," she agreed with the extremely well-worn assessment. "Polite, too. And helpful." And probably, after gallantly lugging the flour all the way back to House 34 for her, very sore.
. . . Moving on. "He says you've been bringing cakes over every day. For Giles."
"Yes, that's right. Giles likes cake a lot, so I thought it would be a nice welcome home present," Grune said earnestly.
It was hard to look at her like this, but Fenimore also found it hard to know where else to look. The walls of Grune's room right then seemed to be filled with reminders of Giles and Grune's friendship. It made it that much harder to encourage her cheerful naivete when someone she clearly loved a lot was suffering alone.
Finally settling on a picture of some wildflowers just behind Grune's ear, she asked, "Don't you think Giles would like a fresh cake better, though?"
"Hmm. . . . Do you think so?"
"Yeah. I do. Why don't you wait to make him the cake until you're sure he's back? It'd taste a lot nicer," she made sure to emphasize.
Grune didn't quite look convinced. "But then he won't have anything when he gets home at first."
"You can do something else. Something that won't get stale. Like . . . bring him flowers. Or. . . ." She cast about Grune's room, hoping inspiration would hit her before Grune's mind headed out. When her gaze arrived at Grune's crayons, she added, "Or you could make him a welcome home picture. And write him a nice message to make him happy. I bet he'd like that."
Grune's face lit up, and Fenimore tried not to feel smug (though maybe not as hard as she could have). "Oh, what a wonderful idea! Thank you, Fenimore! I'll get started right away."
"You're welcome. And how about in the morning? It's getting pretty late."
"Oh, is it?" Grune looked out her window in mild surprise.
Fenimore smiled fondly in spite of herself. "Yeah, it is. You get some rest, all right?" She stood and headed to the door. "I'll see you in the morning."
"All right. Good night, Fenimore." Grune gave her a warm smile. "Sweet dreams."
Fenimore's smile grew, just a little. "You too."
*
As she moved about her room, Fenimore's thoughts weren't quite ready to leave her conversations with Grune and Frédéric. Right before climbing into bed, she stood at the window of Shirley's old room and looked out across Grune's garden.
"May you come back safe, and soon," she said softly, the words of her blessing the only sound in the silent house.
Then, she went to bed, and tried not to dream.
"Fen-Fen. . . ."
Fenimore blinked and looked up from her dusting. "Yes, Sophie?"
"Fen-Fen, there's no more paper. I wanted to draw a picture for Mommy. . . ." Sophie wore a sad look that was growing sadder by the minute.
"There should be some spare paper in the closet," she said quickly. "Try there."
"I did, but it's all gone."
"Really?" She frowned slightly. "But there was all kinds the last I looked. . . ."
The front door fell shut, and automatically, Fenimore went to check if it was Grune leaving and what direction she was heading in. Sure enough, it was Grune all right, and she was cheerfully ambling down the road, a brightly coloured picture in hand.
. . . Oh.
Fenimore set down her dust rag and held out her hand with a sigh. "Come on, Sophie. Let's go shopping."
Fandoms:
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Eternal Sonata, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years, Tales of PhantasiaGenre: Gen
Rating: G
Words: 2259 + 147 omake
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the above fandoms.
Summary: Taking care of Grune has seemed to involve an awful lot of cake lately. Unfortunately, none of it is for Fenimore.
Author's Notes: Working title: ALL THE CAKES. Somehow, though, I thought that lacked a certain...je ne sais quoi.
This story is set between August 31 and September 2, 2011. Yes, I am amazingly on top of things. :|b Also, writing Fenimore is fun. I'm going to have to do it more often. ♥
Fenimore was on her feet and out of her room almost before she'd finished registering the sound. Her movements weren't fast, but they certainly were practiced; in House 34, you ignored the sound of someone in the kitchen getting more than a snack at great peril—yours, and everybody else's.
Through the doorway, she spotted a veil float past, and so she returned to her room, picked up her bead loom and supplies, and went to settle herself at the kitchen table.
"Hello, Fenimore!" Grune greeted her, hard at work measuring flour into a bowl.
"Hi, Grune. What are you making?" She sneaked a glance at the open recipe book, then went to turn on the oven to warm it in advance.
Grune didn't seem to notice. "Oh, I'm making a cake!"
Fenimore sat down again and picked up her needle. "A cake, huh? Is it for us or someone else?"
"It's for Giles," was the cheerful reply. Drat. "I hope he likes it."
"I'm sure he will. You make good cakes." With prompting, anyway.
Grune beamed at her as though Fenimore had just told her she was the best baker in the history of the world—any world. "Oh, thank you! I'm going to do my best, so Giles will enjoy it."
She couldn't help but smile. "You do that. I'll keep you company over here." And make sure you don't burn the kitchen down.
Not too much later, as Fenimore was trying to hunt down five white beads for the pattern, Sophie walked into the kitchen, something cupped in her small hands.
"Fenimore," she began forlornly, and that got her attention pretty quickly.
"What's wrong, Sophie?" she asked.
"My bracelet broke." She opened her hands to show the brightly coloured beads she held. "Can you fix it?"
"Sure. You set those down right here" —she patted the table— "and bring me the rest. I'll have it fixed up in no time."
"Okay. Thank you. . . ." Sophie walked off . . . in the direction of her room. Good.
Hearing a "hmm" from Grune, Fenimore tossed out, "Baking powder." She hadn't seen that go into the mix yet.
"Oh, thank you, Fenimore." Grune unstuck from her memory lapse and went back to work.
That taken care of, Fenimore sorted through the beads Sophie had already brought her, trying to remember the bracelet's former pattern and watch Grune at the same time.
"Are those all your beads?" she asked Sophie, two trips later.
Sophie nodded. "I looked everywhere."
"Okay. I'm going to get some more string. Wait here, and stay away from the oven. It's hot right now."
She fetched a string and returned, giving Grune a "Vanilla." Stringing Sophie's beads back together was quick work, until she discovered they were a few short.
"Why don't we add some of my special beads?" Fenimore suggested, thinking quickly. "I'll bring out the box and you can tell me the three you like best. Does that sound good?"
Sophie, who had started to droop at the sight of the missing beads, looked cheered by the idea. Phew. "All right."
Fenimore checked on the cake when she returned, but luckily, Grune seemed to be on a roll, and so she could finally make some progress on her own project as Sophie began the incredibly long process of picking out three more beads. It seemed to involve examining every single bead in the box—twice.
Finally, Sophie made her choice, and Fenimore restrung the bracelet to better incorporate the new beads into the design. When she was done, she tied off the bracelet, trimmed the ends, and tugged on the string to be sure her knot was good. She then gave two theatrical tugs for Sophie's benefit.
"There," she announced. "All done." She slipped the bracelet on to the little girl's wrist, and got a smile in response.
"I'm going to go colour now," Sophie told her. "Thank you, Fen-Fen."
Fenimore managed to hold back her sigh until Sophie was out of earshot. Fen-Fen? She was really going to have to have a talk with Norma.
"Hmm. . . ."
"Cake goes in the oven, and make some icing while you're at it," she said automatically, and went back to work to the sound of Grune's eternally sincere thanks.
The next day, Fenimore stepped into the kitchen, inhaled, and smiled. "Something smells good. Are you making us a special dessert, Stella?" she asked her housemate, who was busy chopping vegetables.
"Not tonight," Stella replied. "Grune was baking earlier, though."
"Again? Huh." About to head inside, she realized she was still dripping a bit too much and stayed on the mat instead. Oops. "What's for supper?"
Defending yourself was a great goal to have, she thought grumpily as she went through the form for what had to be the two thousandth time that afternoon, but what about when you were the greatest danger to yourself? That's what she wanted to know. She wouldn't actually ask Suki, of course, but—
"Fenimore?" she heard Stella call.
She glanced over to the house. "Yes?"
"Could you pick up some groceries once you're done?" She rounded the corner. Fenimore tried to look competent. "I thought we had enough for supper, but we're nearly out of flour and eggs."
"Sure. I was almost finished, anyway." More like the form had almost finished her, but Stella didn't need to know that.
"Thank you, Fenimore. Don't let me keep you."
It was a complete coincidence that Fenimore waited until Stella had gone inside to continue practicing. One of her fans had needed adjusting. That was all.
Flour.
She really hated flour.
Why couldn't Walter have been around so Stella could have asked him? He liked heaving around heavy things. He did it for fun.
Being preoccupied by the unfairness of Walter's absence in the face of flour, it took her a while to notice someone wanted her attention.
"Ah—excuse me, miss."
She blinked, looked up, and matched the deep voice to the dark-haired man wearing—huh. That was quite the hat.
He looked . . . sort of concerned, until she set down the bag with the flour in it. . . . She was all red and sweaty, wasn't she.
"Forgive me for interrupting. This may seem an odd question, but are you Miss Fenimore?"
She frowned slightly. She'd seen this guy around the village, she thought, but how did he know her?
"Yes, I'm Fenimore," she said cautiously and waited.
"Allow me to introduce myself." He bowed to her. "I am Frédéric François Chopin. Miss Grune is my piano student, and also a friend."
. . . How many friends did Grune have, anyway? And— "Piano student?" Come to think of it, she had been asking about pianos a month or two back. So she had actually stuck with it? Really?
"Yes. She puts a great deal of effort into her playing," Frédéric replied with telling diplomacy. "It is on the subject of Miss Grune that I need to speak with you."
Oh great. Now what had she done? ". . . Yes?"
"Could you please request that she cease sending us quite so many cakes? It is a most generous gesture, but my fellow lodger, Helios, is on the verge of making himself ill."
Fenimore stared at him. "Wait. She's been sending all those cakes to you? Not different people?" So that's where all the flour had gone.
"Ah . . . not precisely." Something left the polite smile Frédéric had been wearing. "They are intended for my other fellow lodger, Giles. . . . However, he has been kidnapped these past three days."
Kidnapped. . . . Suddenly, it made a lot more sense, even if she really didn't want it to. After she had been kidnapped herself, for an entire month, she couldn't ignore what that meant anymore. And even if she didn't know Giles that well, he was kind. A good man. He didn't deserve—
Her mind shuddered away.
Instead, with her gaze focused on Frédéric's—scarf-thing, Fenimore explained, "She does this. When people. . . . When Dhaos went, she walked over to his apartment every day she could remember. She kept bringing fresh flowers.
“When” —she hesitated again— “someone else went, she stuffed her pet full of food until he nearly exploded. I think it's her way of trying to help. Even if. . . ." Even if there wasn't anything she could do.
"I see," Frédéric said softly. “That is very kind of her."
Fenimore shrugged, still not able to look at him. "That's Grune. . . . Anyway. I'll see what I can do the next time I talk her." She picked up her bags with a grimace. "Sorry for the trouble."
"It was no trouble at all. . . . Might I be of assistance?"
"No, it's—" Flour. "Sure." She held out the bag. "Thanks a lot."
Frédéric's eyes widened slightly as he took the load, but all the same, he managed another bow. She had to admit, she was impressed.
"It is my pleasure, Miss Fenimore."
It wasn't until quite late that night that Fenimore saw Grune again; she had missed supper and was gone for the entire evening. Fenimore was actually on the verge of locking up when Cecil—that white-haired guy who used to live next door—turned up with her, having quite obviously steered her home. She thanked him, said good night, and then, before Grune could wander off again, asked, "Hey, Grune, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Of course, Fenimore," Grune said immediately, and looked all set to have the discussion right in the entryway.
"Let's go to your room, so we don't wake anybody up," she suggested. Sophie would be asleep by now, and Fenimore wanted her to stay that way.
"All right," Grune said and ambled off, fortunately in the right direction.
When she walked into Grune's room, Fenimore did a quick scan for missing dishes. None today, but that was probably because she'd checked yesterday, before her swim. She thought the mass of drawings and fotagraphs on the walls had increased since then, although by this point, it was impossible to be sure.
She went to sit in the one chair in Grune's room, at her desk, and her gaze fell on a half-finished picture of what had to be Giles. She looked away.
"I was talking with one of your friends today. . . ." Wait. Who was he, again? He had a weird name, and. . . . "You know, the one with the funny hat?"
Grune looked blanker than usual, and Fenimore sighed. "Of course you wouldn't notice. . . ." Oh, right. "Frédéric?"
Grune's smile in response was radiant—as usual. "Oh, yes! He's such a nice person, isn't he?"
"Yeah," she agreed with the extremely well-worn assessment. "Polite, too. And helpful." And probably, after gallantly lugging the flour all the way back to House 34 for her, very sore.
. . . Moving on. "He says you've been bringing cakes over every day. For Giles."
"Yes, that's right. Giles likes cake a lot, so I thought it would be a nice welcome home present," Grune said earnestly.
It was hard to look at her like this, but Fenimore also found it hard to know where else to look. The walls of Grune's room right then seemed to be filled with reminders of Giles and Grune's friendship. It made it that much harder to encourage her cheerful naivete when someone she clearly loved a lot was suffering alone.
Finally settling on a picture of some wildflowers just behind Grune's ear, she asked, "Don't you think Giles would like a fresh cake better, though?"
"Hmm. . . . Do you think so?"
"Yeah. I do. Why don't you wait to make him the cake until you're sure he's back? It'd taste a lot nicer," she made sure to emphasize.
Grune didn't quite look convinced. "But then he won't have anything when he gets home at first."
"You can do something else. Something that won't get stale. Like . . . bring him flowers. Or. . . ." She cast about Grune's room, hoping inspiration would hit her before Grune's mind headed out. When her gaze arrived at Grune's crayons, she added, "Or you could make him a welcome home picture. And write him a nice message to make him happy. I bet he'd like that."
Grune's face lit up, and Fenimore tried not to feel smug (though maybe not as hard as she could have). "Oh, what a wonderful idea! Thank you, Fenimore! I'll get started right away."
"You're welcome. And how about in the morning? It's getting pretty late."
"Oh, is it?" Grune looked out her window in mild surprise.
Fenimore smiled fondly in spite of herself. "Yeah, it is. You get some rest, all right?" She stood and headed to the door. "I'll see you in the morning."
"All right. Good night, Fenimore." Grune gave her a warm smile. "Sweet dreams."
Fenimore's smile grew, just a little. "You too."
As she moved about her room, Fenimore's thoughts weren't quite ready to leave her conversations with Grune and Frédéric. Right before climbing into bed, she stood at the window of Shirley's old room and looked out across Grune's garden.
"May you come back safe, and soon," she said softly, the words of her blessing the only sound in the silent house.
Then, she went to bed, and tried not to dream.
"Fen-Fen. . . ."
Fenimore blinked and looked up from her dusting. "Yes, Sophie?"
"Fen-Fen, there's no more paper. I wanted to draw a picture for Mommy. . . ." Sophie wore a sad look that was growing sadder by the minute.
"There should be some spare paper in the closet," she said quickly. "Try there."
"I did, but it's all gone."
"Really?" She frowned slightly. "But there was all kinds the last I looked. . . ."
The front door fell shut, and automatically, Fenimore went to check if it was Grune leaving and what direction she was heading in. Sure enough, it was Grune all right, and she was cheerfully ambling down the road, a brightly coloured picture in hand.
. . . Oh.
Fenimore set down her dust rag and held out her hand with a sigh. "Come on, Sophie. Let's go shopping."
Tags:
- character: cecil harvey,
- character: dhaos,
- character: fenimore xelhes,
- character: frédéric françois chopin,
- character: grune,
- character: norma beatty,
- character: rupert giles,
- character: sophie coolidge,
- character: stella telmes,
- character: walter delques,
- genre: gen,
- media: buffy the vampire slayer,
- media: eternal sonata,
- media: final fantasy iv: the after years,
- media: luceti,
- media: tales of legendia,
- media: tales of phantasia,
- rating: g
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-10-15 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-15 11:08 pm (UTC)She really, really wants to help. D:
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 03:01 am (UTC)But yes, Gruuuuune you are so sweet. And so is Fenimore somehow, actually. And pfff Sophie ♥ And I gotta admit, I LOL'D at Fenimore randomly tossing out missing ingredients whenever Grune goes HMMM AM I DONE YET.
Helios at least had all the cake? XD? That's really very sweet of Grune, and a nice gesture on Fenimore's part to try and explain it. D'aaaaaw.
Poor Frederic. XD Also yay for taking the time to use all the cute little marks in his name which I do not even know how to reproduce beyond copypasta. LOLOLOL. /totally uneducated person
And now Grune's helping attempts have been diverted to activities slightly less expensive. LOLOLOL. DO NOT WORRY, SOPHIE, PAPER IS EASILY ATTAINABLE. Just be careful which trees you cut down for it or there will be angry dudes. Grune is so cute XD
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 03:23 am (UTC)Fenimore is just better at hiding her sweetness. But she's totally a softie when it comes to Grune. XD SHE IS A PRO AT THIS BABYSITTING THING. Dhaos should totally talk to her to find out how it's done.
Helios was no doubt very sad when Frederic cut off his cake supply. :P
XD It's all a matter of setting up your keyboard properly. I have mine on US-International, so getting the acute accents in Frédéric, for example, is just a matter of pressing the apostrophe before the e. :Db
And activities that Fenimore doesn't have to supervise, and won't make Helios sick. :Db It's all good. Gee, there sure are an awful lot of treehuggers in Luceti, aren't there? Isn't she? ♥
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Date: 2011-10-16 05:47 am (UTC)So much cake! And Giles is going to come home to new wallpaper, isn't he.
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Date: 2011-10-16 03:24 pm (UTC)No.Of course! ♥XD Well, the omake bit was more of a joke than anything else. But Giles would have at least several pictures waiting for him--which is good, because this was the mallynapping where he thought he was abandoned. D:
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Date: 2011-10-17 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-17 04:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-17 10:03 pm (UTC)