Eirian would have liked to say that she was having a good day. In all aspects of the word…she was. The weather was nice, and she was with (the majority of) her family. Peace and quiet save for the excited squeals of her mother and her brother as they romped about the house in their innocent giddiness. And, to give her mother a much deserved break, Eirian had decided to spend the day doing a majority of the housework, including the dinner for the night. Starting early in the day, after she had completed her morning routine (exercising, for the most part), Eirian donned light shorts and a gray tank top—clothing she normally would have considered improper, but hardly considered herself now that she was home with no prying eyes save for her mother and small brother. Cleaning and cooking…despite the fine soldier she had been trained to be, Eirian found it oddly calming, the sounds of playful interaction that floated in from the other room causing her to smile.
But it wasn’t a full smile, not really. It hardly went past the surface. Not that she wasn’t grateful for the…joyful simplicity of the time she was given to spend with her family, but so used to the rigid structure of the Academy, or her academic and professional duties at the Licia school that Eirian found it…uncomfortably lacking. Despite herself, she found a hand coming up to rub the back of her neck—as if to smooth a nonexistent crick from the stress she was used to piling upon it. Strands of her long, wheat-blonde hair tangled themselves between her fingers, but they slid out easily as she straightened due to the care she took in managing them.
With a deep breath which she let out upon a sigh, Eirian finished preparing the vegetables she had been chopping and grabbed the apron that hung neatly in their kitchen’s small pantry. White, frilly, and much cleaner than it probably should have been, it clearly belonged to her mother: the perfect example of a Lician housewife. Thinking about it, the thing was probably more for show than anything, and Eirian wasn’t wearing anything she was afraid of staining…but regardless, felt compelled to don it. Better safe than sorry—and why not use the apron for its intended purposes? Tucking her hair behind her ears, Eirian quickly tied the ribbons of the apron into a bow behind her waist and set about mixing the ingredients for the chicken and spinach casserole.
Mixed, and tried with all her willpower not to think of the training she would have been much more comfortable doing.
“Eirnan!”
Eirian nearly jolted at the voice that broke her from her thoughts, but managed to turn the surprise into a smile. “Yes, Turner?” she asked in a sweet coo, eyes gentle as she looked upon the cherubic boy who barely reached the countertop, turning away only long enough to stick the casserole into the oven.
“Mine!”
“What?”
Puzzled, Eirian shut the oven and turned around, just in time to witness her brother giggling mischievously whilst grabbing the abandoned mixing spoon from where it had been resting upon the counter, still covered in the goopy uncooked casserole mixture. Shaking her head, she laughed, knowing what he wanted. The silence from the other room could only have meant that her mother had dozed off on the sofa while her son had focused his attention on coloring (and Eirian could hardly blame her; the woman had been entertaining Turner nonstop nearly all day), and he had tired of independent fun.
“Oh no, you don’t, you little rascal!” Eirian called playfully, mocking impatience as she gave chase—and didn’t get very far.
As soon as she left the kitchen, heading after the excited boy, the front door had opened, causing Eirian to stop immediately in the narrow hallway between the two rooms. She beamed—there was only one person who could have been coming, although it was a mystery to her as to why he could have been off duty so soon, and without warning.
“Father!” Eirian greeted, eyes light in happy surprise. Russell Lindval smiled back, although there was something in his expression she couldn’t quite determine.
“Eirian,” he told her heavily, only causing her confusion to widen, “there’s someone here to see you.”
And with that, her father stepped aside to reveal the man she had not initially noticed, standing behind him. He stood tall and respectful, just as she had remembered—no, more so than she remembered…but her mentor appeared no less strong and efficient as he had the day she had graduated from the Academy three years ago, the last time she had seen him. For a moment, she could feel a strange knot of giddiness and alarm well in her throat at the pleasure of seeing him once again, however unexpected and full of potential implications it may have been.
Eirian supposed it was because she hadn’t ever bothered to make any friends throughout her student career; he was the closest thing she had.
At some point, the young woman’s hair had loosened itself, and fell like silk about her neck and shoulders as she righted herself, standing as straight as a plank. A name formed upon herself, but she righted that too as she greeted the other blonde. “Mr. Ward…”
All at once, Eirian remembered exactly what it was she was wearing and, feeling the beginnings of a flush make its way to her cheeks, she undid the apron and folded it in her arms as quickly and neatly as she could manage. She suddenly found herself scolding her choice of wardrobe for the day; she should have been prepared for anything, no matter how unexpected, but there was nothing she could do about it at this point.
The only thing there was to be done, as her father graciously allowed Robert passage into their home, was to hear him out. After all, hadn’t the older man said that he had come to see her? That begged the question why. Eirian didn’t want to be blunt, and by no means did she want to rush such a rare visitation, but…
“…for what purpose do I owe this honor?”