[ For all of her efforts to keep her ingredients safe and unharmed (because Noire, at least, was no stranger to hitting the ground in some fashion), all of that very nearly goes to waste when Noire looks up with a sheepish apology on her lips.
... Of course, it dies abruptly, and her grip slackens on the bag as gray eyes go wide. Thankfully for Owain's future cake, Noire has enough caution and sensibility to let the bag gently slide through her fingers and land safely on the ground-- so that when she lets Morgan pull her to her feet she can instantly throw her arms around him.
She'd wondered, of course, every time she had ventured into the Outrealms-- would she see him again? How long would it be? Would it have been better if their paths never crossed, would Morgan be happier moving on, did missing her hurt him as much as thinking of him hurt her?
Noire honestly couldn't blame anyone, and she hadn't regretted falling in love with a person who hadn't been by her side like the others had. Now, she takes a deep breath, trying to hide her face against his neck. ]
M-Morgan--
[ There's joy and relief and desperation, a thin sort of pleading-- he's really here, isn't he? ]
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... Of course, it dies abruptly, and her grip slackens on the bag as gray eyes go wide. Thankfully for Owain's future cake, Noire has enough caution and sensibility to let the bag gently slide through her fingers and land safely on the ground-- so that when she lets Morgan pull her to her feet she can instantly throw her arms around him.
She'd wondered, of course, every time she had ventured into the Outrealms-- would she see him again? How long would it be? Would it have been better if their paths never crossed, would Morgan be happier moving on, did missing her hurt him as much as thinking of him hurt her?
Noire honestly couldn't blame anyone, and she hadn't regretted falling in love with a person who hadn't been by her side like the others had. Now, she takes a deep breath, trying to hide her face against his neck. ]
M-Morgan--
[ There's joy and relief and desperation, a thin sort of pleading-- he's really here, isn't he? ]