[littl3chocobo]

it was strange to be down in the kitchen with olesya learning to tell the difference between flour and mix and soda and not simple because it was hours before dawn, or he was dressed in nothing but a sheet or even that they both sounded like broken toys chattering in one and two word sentences, no, what made it strange was how much each of them had changed in the span of a decade. he could still see the stern gray woman of his youth, all angles and hidden not-quite-smiles but there was more white than black mixed into the gray and where he had always found her equal parts fierce and soft he now only found her fragile and tired. he said nothing of this and let himself fall back into the nostalgia of his youth before zayats when he could still sneak in and watch