[With no one around that she recognizes Edelgard is able to allow herself indulge in the sweets. She goes for the ones that would be the most damning first. Mostly because they look sweetest and if caught eating other things later it would be less of an embarrassment.
Her first bite is deliciously devastating. The (immitation) strawberry frosting on the sugar cookie takes her back to sharing sweet buns with a childhood friend. The chill of winter air biting her cheeks, their hands covered in little woolen mittens. The boy with blonde hair insisting he'll just eat whatever flavors she doesn't like, and handing her the strawberry one because the tartness of the fruit flavor would cut through the sweetness of the pastry.
How sad... to think she can barely remember his face other than "blue eyes" and "warm smile". Trying to pull her memories forth is like looking at a foggy mirror. Colors and shapes but little detail. And until recently she had forgotten his name too. The boy who helped her survive lost to the sands of time even if his words gave her strength.
When Wembley comes along Edelgard has been standing still for a while. Five minutes? Ten? Possibly more? Tears wet her lashes and tumble down her cheek, but her expression hardly moves an inch. The woman only flinches when she gets a visitor beside her and notices them on her peripherals.]
O-oh, I apologize. Am I in the way?
[Reaching up she wipes the wetness from her face.]
no subject
Her first bite is deliciously devastating. The (immitation) strawberry frosting on the sugar cookie takes her back to sharing sweet buns with a childhood friend. The chill of winter air biting her cheeks, their hands covered in little woolen mittens. The boy with blonde hair insisting he'll just eat whatever flavors she doesn't like, and handing her the strawberry one because the tartness of the fruit flavor would cut through the sweetness of the pastry.
How sad... to think she can barely remember his face other than "blue eyes" and "warm smile". Trying to pull her memories forth is like looking at a foggy mirror. Colors and shapes but little detail. And until recently she had forgotten his name too. The boy who helped her survive lost to the sands of time even if his words gave her strength.
When Wembley comes along Edelgard has been standing still for a while. Five minutes? Ten? Possibly more? Tears wet her lashes and tumble down her cheek, but her expression hardly moves an inch. The woman only flinches when she gets a visitor beside her and notices them on her peripherals.]
O-oh, I apologize. Am I in the way?
[Reaching up she wipes the wetness from her face.]
Here, I suggest these. They— They are very good.