Uncoordinated Household

-Dalen Forest, Cecile's Cottage. 0 DSTR, Late Afternoon-

*OOC: I think the most efficient order of posts would be Katya, Simon, Cecile. Objections?*

Carla waited for the bucket to sink further into the fresh water before pulling it upwards. Water splashed out of the bucket with each yank, slapping against the stone insides of the well. With a practiced grip, she steadied the rope before placing the bucket on the edge of the well with ease. Untying the rope from the handle, she tossed the rope down at her feet- jumping instantaneously at the interjection of sound.

"Greetings! We were travelling and couldn't help but to see your column of smoke. Would you perchance have food that we could purchase?" A deep voice intruded.

Carla slapped her hand at her chest in attempt to calm her racing heart. “Flintstone and Canterbury,” she whispered under her breath. Picking up the bucket, she smoothed the top of her hair before offering a wave. Walking towards the front of the cottage, she placed the bucket on the tiny stone entranceway, and breathed outwards.

“Yes! Come on in! Your horses are free to roam, no one will bother them here,” she yelled out. She could make out the figures, but not intricate details on the two individuals. She knew one of them was a female, and the other male. Unmarried. Turning towards the door, expecting them to follow, she turned back around and lifted her hand in slight protest of further movement. “Leave your boots outside- thank you!”

Walking back into the cottage, forgetting the bucket of water, she left the door open and stood a couple of feet in the house. “They are here, two travelers, male and female,” she breathed out as if winded.

“What are you- 50? You’re acting like you just ran a mile,” Carmon spoke through the book in a playful tone.

“Well they can’t sleep in the same room, they aren’t married!” Carla said, as if everyone was not understanding what she was getting at.

Carla stepped into the kitchen and pulled a piece of chicken off the island. They had a variety of spices that one could choose to decorate their meats with. Cecile sighed and dropped what chicken she had left to shred on the counter. “You didn’t offer them a hand?” Her tone coated with disappointment. Carla stared bewildered at the question and shrugged.

“They looked capable enough.”

Cecile rolled her eyes and wiped her hands off on the light green apron that was wrapped around her slender waist. Wendy plopped herself into a chair next to Carmon, and Willow continued to stir the grits as if she were entirely too busy to provide assistance to anyone. “Bloody hell,” Cecile whispered aggravated. Moving to the entryway of their home, she called outwards, “Can I help you get your things?”

“Ma- they probably haven’t thought about staying the night,” Willow spoke in humor.

“Senile wench,” said Carmon.

Cecile glared towards her daughters and looked back at the two unidentified guests.

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