Roasting meat, fresh herbs being chopped on a board, and the warmth of bread grain cooling met Elua's sense of smell as she paused in the doorway to the kitchen, just to take it in for a moment. Her stomach firmly reminded her that it had been doing *important romance work* for hours and had received nothing for the trouble. She was only 'lucky' that she hadn't had a reason to use her Physique's trigger actions and deepen the pangs.
Yatrel was in the middle of the room when she heard the familiar gut noises, with her reddish blonde hair pulled up into a quick ponytail. One that was less elegant than her older hairstyles but more fitting for standing in the middle of the servants and helping arrange things.
Her hand found her hips in the same pose Onya imitated earlier… but she did not turn around. She was the very living cradle responsible for her daughter's mint eyes and knew well enough by now that letting both sets meet would just give a strong chance to change her mood.
