Storm sat down on the rug before the hearth and smiled as Lucille took her first few bites. She might only be eating to save his feelings, but the winter storm eyed male didn’t mind the reason as long as she was getting some food in her. Storm took a bite of his cooking, closing his eyes as the warm food slipped down, mixing deliciously with the warmth of the fire. Despite the tension he could feel in Lucille, he felt his muscles ease under the onslaught of such incredible warmth and a deep sigh escaped him. When Lucille asked her question, Storm was happy to answer it, to try and take her mind off of her current horrible situation. He put the bowl down and looked thoughtful for a moment before he began.
Chores, never ending chores. Fixed roofs, nets and fences. I have made some new paste for swimming. I’ve been practising skating on the ice. It can be a bit thin on sister lake, but sister lake is good for it. I’ve been bored, it’s not fun not diving, and diving under the ice is beautiful, but you always have to have someone around to make sure that the ice doesn’t close.
Storm paused then as if he was thinking, or perhaps getting up the courage to say something else, it was sometimes difficult to tell.
”I-I want to s-start sailing again. I-I would like to try it on the sea again.”
Storm hadn’t really had a great deal to do with the sea since his brother had been killed all those years ago. Something had changed though, there was an itch he felt he needed to scratch. Perhaps he’d lived such a long time under the shadow of his abusive father that something in him saw this as a strike out against that.