[An assortment of homemade baked goods - cookies of various flavors, brownies, cupcakes, the works. Attached is a note that says 'Happy holidays - Kantera'.]
[ Another pause, this time because the idea has never once crossed her mind. Huh.
She mulls it over. Would it be weird to ask for payment, when she's only ever made things for fun and to (try to) show she cares? ... Is she good enough to ask for payment? After, like, ten solid minutes of fierce internal fussingdebate fussy debate - ]
You'd be my first customer. Maybe for cost of materials?
And for future commission things ... Just let me know! I like to sketch my ideas out first, so maybe we could find a cat cafe and we can workshop designs
[ it's a day or so after Christmas before she delivers—mostly because the solstice wasn't a gift-giving occasion for her back home and so she was not even remotely prepared—but Korone gets:
- a basket full of herb-and-flower infused oils of varying scents (and scent levels, including unscented); all of them have ingredient labels and little notes about things like how thick the oil is depending on ambient temperature and what they might be good for (skin, hair, feathers, etc.) There's also an extra note with "tell me which ones you like best!" scrawled on it in messy handwriting.
- a jar full of handmade sachets of chamomile and lemon balm tea
- a box full of chocolate chip cookies with the same slightly wood-smoked taste to them as the ones she'd made in the communal oven back at Temple Horizon that one time.
- two stylized wing-shaped hairclips in just the right size for pinning her bangs back. They're silver, but anodized in shades of blue and purple. ]
[ Should he be leaning on his kids for this Cole thing? Probably not. But he knows that if Choco finds out later she'll be hurt that he kept it, and to be frank he could use some steadiness right about now. ]
[ Birdtile House absolutely has some kind of roof terrace garden-y space by now, whether it's finished or not. And that's where Korone is (specifically: dozing in her magical pop-up pillowfort between half-hearted attempts to preen her poor, raggedy, half-moulted wings) when she gets the text.
The sender alone is enough to help her shake off some of that sleepiness, and the text …
Yeah.
That sure gets her attention. She sits up and replies promptly: ]
For you? I have infinite minutes.
In the pillowfort on the roof if you wanna come over.
Pillowfort on the-- [ He pauses. He remembers something about a pillowfort in his heart game, something... ]
Five seconds. Thanks.
[ Macaque portals onto the roof and blinks at the sight of that pillowfort. He mentally pictured something like that while meditating. ] Wow. You all brought back all kinds of souvenirs.
[ He pokes his head into the fort and his expression veers toward the sheepish when he sees her wings. ] If you're too tired, it'll keep.
[ He might already have arrived by the time her response — that single heart in her signature blue — reaches his inbox. ]
[ With a hint of gentle, lighthearted amusement, ] Macchan worked his butt off to make us all wonderful, bespoke gifts; of course we were gonna keep 'em if we could. [ She spends a not insignificant amount of time in it even now, to the point that it carries her scent. It is just that comfy, cosy, and imbued with such a sense of safety and security … she loves this pillowfort. ]
[ There's a small pile of books in here, too, and Ringo, her beloved plushie. She pats some of the bedding next to her. ]
Nah, I'm good. [ Pat! Pat! ] Get over here and tell me what you need.
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