too young to be a wine cousin

With a basket handle in maw, Maki was eager to do something, anything that wasn't sitting around and being sad. It felt never ending, the sadness just didn't dissipate as she thought it would. It lingered, malignant, like a wound that didn't feel clean no matter how much she licked it. She had plenty of people who loved her and offered support, hell even Uncle Chi let her drop by whenever she wanted to, but it just felt- well she'd never realised that angst would hurt this much and that comfort only took the edge off. Didn't heal it entirely. In her stories, love had always been enough, so why wasn't it for her? Was she broken now?


Sighing, she trotted to a stop and dropped her basket by the little pot on the fire. She may have...borrowed some mead from Víðarr, but didn't like the taste much, so maybe adding some fruits and letting it simmer would make it taste better? She thought it was worth a shot. Dropping the contents of the mead flask into the pot, she started to rummage through her baskets for the fruits she'd gathered along the way. Mostly had swiped them from the edge of the orchard, but had found a couple of trees elsewhere too.