If memory served - and it always did, save for that moment months ago, - the last time Morrigan had shared a meal with him had been years ago, when her wounds had been fresh and raw, and her spirit ground down to dust. The pain of those days had been interminable, and his own burden heavier and heavier, shared only by Calvin, and guiltily at that. If Krishna was nervous at all - and he most certainly was not, - it was only because of the excruciating memories Morrigan must have of his home, his hospitality. Krishna's formidable memory offered him so many helpful suggestions, all to make their evening as pleasant as possible, but even a memory like his could not make up for unpredictable human moods were.
But there was no point in becoming anxious, when he could channel that jittery energy into making dinner for them, setting up the garden and the greenhouse, and most importantly, making all of it as comfortable as possible for Morrigan. Though a picnic blanket might have been more pleasant, to sit closer to the fragrant herbs in his garden, wicker chairs were much more comfortable for Morrigan's bad leg and the limitations her scars imposed on her. He didn't require a chair like that, and even less so the light-padded cushion for the seat, but he brought them out in matching pairs, so that it wouldn't seem like he was catering to her unique needs. He brought a small table out, too, and the earthy scent of herbs gave away its everyday use. He put the nicest oil lamp he had on the table, the filigree cover with the twining vines still open, waiting to be lit. It wasn't so out of place with his clothes, which were still very Aurellian though it was a narrower cut and the burnt orange was duller than traditional Aurellian clothes. Jewel-tone embroidery decorated the edges with detailed dragonflies.
As it turned out, the food was the easy part - there were certain perks to having one's own garden, and a greenhouse to boot. He kept it simple, a salad of assorted greens and nuts with a vinegar dressing, baked potatoes and aubergine, baked packets of vegetables and hazelnuts in a tomato sauce, and some rather uncommon fruits from his greenhouse for Morrigan to taste. He used herbs lightly, but he had substituted some of it with dried chili flakes, which would give the food the heat she had requested.
When Morrigan had shown up, Krishna was just putting the finishing touches to the salad. He straightened right away, a handful of fresh basil still in his left hand. It took Krishna a second to respond, because he had never seen her dressed like that before. He tried not to let his eyes linger on the gap under her collar, or the swipe of colour on her lips. He would focus on her eyes, even if she had dressed to impress. It would be a shame to start the evening off with misinterpretation.
"Morrigan. You know me - I will always pick my garden over my house," his frown was nowhere to be found, and a small smile flirted with the edge of his lips. He was genuinely happy to see her. "Please come in," he made his way to the gate and let her in, then led the way to where he had set up the table, next to a trellis with a passionfruit vine. On the other side, tall rose bushes nuzzled against the table, even though it will be a while yet before they were ready to bloom again. The faint scent of lemon and herbs perfumed the air. He pulled one of the chairs out for her with his free hand. "We can start here. I heard that it might rain tonight, but if that's the case, we can go into the greenhouse. It will be warmer there, too." Warmer so that her leg wouldn't hurt.
"The food will be ready soon. I hope you're hungry."