Dusk drew his wheellock instinctively through the fog of sleep, a glitter of gold catching a dim light as it whirled from beneath his pillow. Arm outstretched, the pen drawn back as it combed the empty room, one eye opened quickly adjusting to the shadows. He wasn't sure what had woke him; if a dream it was chased out of mind with a start or a noise had roused him. The aging house groaned softly in highland winds passing over the moor. The whispers did not wait long to make themselves known, forcing Dusk to another bout of vigilance against the subtle engagement. He had become adept at hiding his divided attention when conversing with Mila. Some days were quiet, other days he channeled madness into training. She had even begun to join him, commenting until banded, she wouldn't be locked down to a home. Mila had made other strange remarks in such regards, though Dusk had done his best to ignore them. It was true, however. They had kept on the move with Ovara Marie's direction ever since Bal Hora, specifically Mila's father, had learned of her existence. On top of having to part immediately from a mother she never knew, but missed her surrogate mother, Rema, Lauro and a home both could not help but remember fondly. Just as much as he needed to distract himself, she deserved it all the more. He would not allow her to kill, however. He rested Virtuoso on the table next to plate. A pitted feeling in his gut stirred looking at the picked bones breaded in crumbs, a soggy bit of rae bread sticking out the stew bowl, rings of the thick sauce where sopped up. Hunger had been far from Dusk for a time, yet did eat for Mila's sake and strength he knew he needed for contracts. It was not quite Viktoria's cooking, but was getting close day by day. The few times Mila had ventured from the secluded abode was to town to buy ingredients. Dusk made sure to leave her more than enough for whatever needed. They had left behind a spindle wheel and loom in Arms and to avoid such disappointment, Mila learned to travel light. He was wearing one of her projects, the back cooled from the restless sweat of night. He thought to open the shutter and quickly dismissed. Giving audience to the shadows in morbid play cast by the moonlight had worn at him. Avoiding each creaking plank, Dusk allowed a small slit in the door to the short vacant hallway. The chill of the morning was less apparent here as he stepped out to see the glow of the chimney come to life. It was Mila, up early today. What day was it? It's possible Sorrow was to check in on her. He removed his hand from beneath the flower table where he had fastened a dirk. The small frame of Mila leaned around the corner, her pale face glowing even in the shadow cast heavy from the fire. “Trouble sleeping?” she asked. Dusk was sure his countenance answered for as much as they raised the question. “You woke me.” he replied, making his way to the warmth filling the living area. A frown broke across her thin lips as she gestured to the iron pan and pot, “Sorry. Was a little clumsy.” Dusk nodded, visibly relieved to Mila's puzzlement, and made his way for the front door. “Expecting Sorrow today?” Dusk asked as he stretched and looked over the assortment on the table. Phaesant, hare, several burben spiced bread. Mila gleamed back at him from stirring the pot over the fire. “She's bringing some thing from mot...from mother for me to study.” Dusk stared at her hearing the strain yet said nothing. He couldn't tell if she was trying to smile or grimace. “I'm still not used to it. I've only been with her less than a week, after all.” Mila explained. “Give it time.” Dusk said, cutting off a sliver of salted meat. “Stop that!” a hand swiftly swatted his in an instant, but too late for the half he managed to pilfer, “What do you think is cooking right now?” Mila scolded. Despite the fact she resembled her birth mother uncannily, Mila's mannerisms were the mothering of Miriam without a doubt. Dusk only smirked as he grabbed his coat by the entrance. “Oh, I fed them already. On the last bag of feed.” Mila called to him, stopping him halfway in the threshold. Dusk thought for a moment. “I don't have anything for today and you're occupied. Need a hand?” he said. Mila raised a brow immediately before considering. “If you're not busy...,” she began, thinking over a list in her head. “I'll have enough time to add a pie.” The pale morning steadily splitting the night reflected like glass in Dusk's eyes. She had not long before felt deep sadness at the fact one day, a blink in the long life of a Penumbra, he would be gone. She did not think it fair the boy who had to invent another life she not have time to live in full. She had been chided by Miriam for this, forming a blood bond without his consent. It was something Rema would and had done, her maerta had exasperated. Confessing her actions to to Dusk received no response other than acknowledgment. He would not speak on anything unless his own time. Why is it now that when looking into those albescent eyes she felt something was lost now? Dusk nodded. “Appreciate it. I'll get things setup and be back.” he said exiting. Left in the warm dark, Mila kept her gaze on where he once stood for second before returning to preparations. Back to playing house, she thought. She remembered when Serena had teased her of the exact matter. These thoughts surfaced in Mila's mind not long after all of this happened. Buried under the discovery of her real maerta, Miriam's daughter, budding fancies seemed trivial. Dusk had brought the end of one life and the start of another. He was a friend, a brother and tied to her now. Perhaps the blood companion ritual is what created the misunderstanding, even if not...she looked down at her small hands. Brushing aside these thoughts, Mila continued to prepare as close to a traditional Lithavanian meal she could replicate on hand. What mattered now was doing something special for Sorrow. It would be a poor attempt, but the closest she would have right now of tasting her mother's cooking.

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