it's her favourite time of year: halloween. and, despite herself, she had to admit that it was nice to visit ciuperca - the festivities were nice. appealing to ambrose, at the least, who fell into heartstruck love with every black-lipsticked goth with a chip on their shoulder and a piercing in their tongue. it delighted her, and lifted her spirits no end, to see him happy. it had been too long. ever since everything that happened with sabrina - well. it doesn't bare thinking of. she's aware that he can hear her thoughts - they had admitted this much - and she'd rather not subject the duke to this sad old tale. "oh -- i know!" she exclaims, her hands gripping tightly to her wicker shopping basket. "i'd invite over vampira, and i'd make... vegetable pie!" the question? which celebrity would you have to dinner, and what would you cook. the duke was the sort of fellow who loved to discuss every break in a loaf in magnificent, smoky detail. get them to tell you a fact or two about themself - now that would be the miracle! the happiness and ease they share has a sort of fragility. hilda thinks briefly of how some spiders repair their webs every day. some spiders eat the old webs as protein sources. spiders are resourceful - she wants to be too. it would be so nice to make something new here from this old web.
"and y'self?" she stares up at him with a grin, gentle and observing. it's been a while. to say the least. she wants to get to know the duke in the middle of this new city, as opposed to in a rickety caravan parked on a mass grave. but even that brings forth a memory of eating soup together in that old shoppe (it felt appropriate to add the extra letters) of his.
@canonfoddcr get ready baby
