First Impressions

- A Cottage Somewhere in the Bramblewood, Evening of 0 DSTR -

Cecile stared at them with the patience of a mother whom had five children. Finding their hesitance to commit to a decision, she just offered a kind smile and nodded. It wasn’t exactly an Inn, as they wouldn’t take any money or an act of payment for just staying the night. Watching them slowly disarm themselves for the time being, Cecile stepped out of the doorway and began approaching the woman. Not making eye contact with the Simon, not of conscious decision making, she pressed her attention on towards Katya. Realizing the man had only taken his own belongings, and not assisted the woman traveling with him, she huffed slightly and threw up her hands. “Raised by wolves, you’d think!” She mumbled under her breath.

Smiling towards the woman, Katya, she held out her hands in offering. “My name is Cecile, and I welcome you into our home,” she spoke with kind eyes. Her tone offered no gimmicks, no hostility, and an odd amount of pure hospitality. “Please, let me help carry something in, have it be coat at the very least.”

The four daughters stood inside, huddled around the kitchen island, waiting for the man to enter. Carla had her arms crossed in hopes to look friendlier than Carmon, whom still had her nose shoved in a book, picking up slivers of chicken, and eating at her leisure.

Carla jumped again at the voice that broke the silence in the air. “May I enter?”

Willow shot a look at Carla, as if silently scolding her for being so jumpy. “Yes, of course,” Willow called out to the man, returning to her rightful place of tending to the grits. Pulling the pot off the stove, she grabbed a rag and made her short adventure to the dining room. Throwing the rag on the dining table, she plopped the grits down, and gave it a last stir with the wooden spoon.

Wendy was the most docile of the four. Realizing the man had brought in the bucket that Carla had been sent to receive, she made her way quickly to him before gripping the side of the handle where his hand was not. “Please, let me get this- I apologize, you didn’t have to.” Wendy looked up at him, blushing slightly at the overall attractive nature of the man. Dropping her eyes, she held her breath and took the bucket with haste.

Carla pointed to the room sprinkled in chairs and couches while she spoke, “You can just place your things over there, food is in the dining room, just follow the smell,” thinking silently for a split second, she continued, “or just use basic human intelligence and you should find it.” Nodding in agreement with her own statement, she turned away and grabbed a covered pot that had been sitting on the counter. Walking away from the remaining individuals that were scattered about the house, some eventually entering, she sat at the dining room table and placed the pot next to the pot of grits.

Carmon looked up from her book and stared at the man. Eyeing him from head to toe, too slow for anyone’s comfort, she blinked once and plopped another sliver of chicken into her mouth.

“Carmon- chicken,” Wendy said plainly, and Carmon followed the imaginary order. Grabbing a porcelain plate, she side swiped the shredded chicken onto the plate and made herself comfortable at the dining room table with Carla and Willow.

“I am Wendy, and the dining room table is just over there. Make yourself at home, most of us don’t bite,” Wendy giggled into the air and placed the bucket of water on the counter. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

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