marjorieivesâ:
âAh, that is where you are mistaken.â Marjorie chuckled, a spark of an enthusiastic need to see Zelda taking her first bite of a real homemade pie. By the looks of her, Marjorie feared that the fae rarely had someone make a real meal. The kind of meal that not only filled a belly but satisfied the soul. âA pie can be anything it wants to be. It can be sweet, but it can also be savory and rich.â She continued, reciting her motherâs words as if they were said yesterday. âMade with love and enough butter to clog your arteries.â
The burst of warmth made Marjorie jump back, she was sure the ablaze had singed brows straight off her face. Luckily, she hadnât been close to the flames. âGoodness, even Hades felt that. I forgot you could do that.â She gave Zelda a sheepish smile as she continued to feed the fire with a couple more logs. Without wanting Zelda to notice, Marjorie eyed her gloved hands, wondering what kept her so closed off.
Before she could ask about the gloves, Zeldaâs question made her forget all about it. âOf course, I do, dearest. Just give me ten minutes and youâll see what I meant by a savory pie. How about you set one of the tables and Iâll join you.â And in exactly ten minutes, Marjorie had warmed up the dinner, along with a couple of apple and caramel tarts.
âThere you go!â She sang brightly, placing the steaming pie before Zeldaâs seat then plotted herself across from her. Placing her chin in the palm of her hand, doing her best to wait patiently for Zelda to take a bite. âNow, I hope this means you wonât be sneaking in here to only eat cookies. Not when I have the refrigerator filled with proper food.â
The fae did as Marjorie asked, slipping into a twisted sort of domesticity as she set the table to the best of her ability, likely setting a fork or spoon out of place. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the silverware, near-shocked to find how gaunt she looked even despite the spoonâs distortion. With cheeks sunken-in, and nothing but pallid color in the place of brights or rose, Zelda grimaced at the thought that someone veritably undead appeared more alive than her.
Silently, she mused over her host, deciding that it was simultaneously easy and complicated to be near Marjorie, in all her warmth and loveliness. Those were facets of the blonde that Zelda basked in, but ones that she also coveted with unceasing fervor as the cold of Ashbourne began to settle under her skin. The realization tempted her instinct to bolt, to run from any sign of someone safe, because safe typically meant undeserving of the usual storm and stress Zelda brought with her.Â
And just as quick as the thought came, it left, veritably banished as Marjorie entered the room, and Zelda had a forkful of the savory pie in her mouth mere moments after. âShit, Marj. Thatâs fuckinâ good,â she extolled in between bites, a short and quiet precursor to devouring all that had been placed in front of her. She let Marjorieâs comment hang in the air for a few moments before she fidgeted with the silverware, mouth opening a few times with the promise of something to say and failing each time.Â
The word âsorryâ hid just behind her teeth, not foreign exactly, and yet tasting very much like a bitter pill Zelda refused to swallow. Her nature was to be unapologetic, living with no remorse other than for the years she had lost to flame and ash, but Marjorie -- light and kindness incarnate -- had seemingly pulled her out of that mentality at every turn since sheâd arrived in the eerie town. âYeah, I guess breaking and entering your shop isnât really in the cards for me anymore,â Zelda offered in place of a proper apology, and shoved a forkful of caramel tart in her mouth. âBut that tea shop downtown should watch out.â She laughed out a short chuckle, maybe her first true, comfortable laugh since arriving in the town. âListen, I, uh... The place Iâm at right now, it doesnât have running water. Think I could maybe crash at yours again tonight?â Zelda asked, eyes raising to meet the other woman only once the question escaped. âOr, you know, never mind. Sorry.â




















