log → cressida & elvira. Who: Cressida Karth & Elvira Treveil. What: Dropping off snacks for the guildmates. Where: Shieldwyrm guildhall, Commoners District. When: Today, afternoon. Rating: G. Status: Complete.
Elvira strolled through the halls of Shieldwyrm, arms full with boxes of pastries from the Baker’s Dozen. This afternoon, the knight made a bulk purchase, enough to feed her guildmates after lunch. To shed blood together, to share a meal together as fighters did. It was money out of her pocket well-spent.
Her head bobbed in the crowd, petite frame navigating to the mess hall to drop off the food, chin holding the boxes from toppling over.
Coming up one of the halls was Cressida, a layer of sweat still coating her back and neck from training not five minutes earlier. Food was on her mind, as it often was after a hard training session, and she always looked forward to coming home to her mother’s cooking. That thought fell away from her mind as she spotted— well, a person, but mostly boxes coming toward her. It was then that she noticed the woman holding those boxes in place, her blonde curls most familiar to her.
“Do you need some help with those, Sir Treveil?” ‘Elvira’ was too personal a thing to call her, and she was a holy knight who deserved respect, not casual names.
“Oh?” The older fighter looked over her stack of treats to see an archer in her path. “Why, yes I do if you could please—thank you.” She paused to shift her boxes, sliding them off into Cressida’s grasp.
“Thank you so much,” she repeated before adding with a friendly laugh: “I’m just taking them on over to the mess, but you can have first dibs for helping, Ms. Cressida. I hope you like muffins and sandwiches.” She addressed the younger fighter with a more familiar name (perhaps unusual for Treveil).
The brunette smiled as she adjusted the boxes in her hold. “I do, thanks. And it’s no problem,” she offered, even though she’d been going the opposite way. Lending a helping hand was part of her nature— her mother had instilled that in her at a young age, and it had suited her well most times, but not always.
A question lingered on the edge of her tongue, but she swallowed it, not meaning to question Elvira’s strength. “What kind of muffins?” she asked instead, shifting to match the other girl’s pace.
“Chocolate chip!” the older fighter answered brightly. “Some are blueberry, some banana nut. Not handmade, sorry to say. I am no baker.” She added a wink here.
Elvira shook her head slightly to move stray strand of hair out of her eyes, hands still preoccupied with the (not heavy) boxes.
Cressida could only laugh. “I’ve never made anything with bananas. I want to try but I’m afraid I’ll mess them up like I have with blueberries,” she explained, dodging a jogging fighter. “They always come out so soft. Have you, um— been well, Sir Treveil?”
“Oh, yes I have. Our guild keeps us busy, doesn’t it?” Elvira chirped up in response. She fell into silence as they turned a sharp corner and passed a group of sentinels, before reaching the door of the mess and offering: “If we have time, we could both try our hand at baking with bananas.”
She smiled up at the younger fighter as they set the boxes down on one of the long wooden tables. Already the fighters who had been lounging around like prowling, sunbathing lions eyed the gifts with curiosity and hunger.
And the archer was helpless when it came to not returning that smile. “I think it’s definitely worth a try,” she agreed, settling her own boxes atop the table and watching with amusement as the other fighters looked up like the dinner bell had been rung. She laughed again.