[INDENT][INDENT][INDENT][INDENT][INDENT][INDENT](Jointly written by Kindo and MJZ)
Cederic is at home, clad in an apron in the kitchen, working on a huge pile of dishes that has accumulated after this evening's supper. He has developed a system over the years, and is quite proud of the level of efficiency he displays as he is cleaning off the plates and utensils one by one. His mother is tucking in little baby Siri, while Linn and Ferona are playing some sort of game in the common-room. His father is comfortably sitting in his favourite chair, puffing on his own home-made pipe weed, as he does every day after supper. He claims it to be purely for business purposes, however, saying "It is every man's responsibility to make sure his wares are of highest quality."
Then, suddenly, a familiar humming is heard from somewhere outside the window. To Cederic's veiled delight, it is Ariel, undoubtedly having left her own house, leaving someone else to clean up after their evening meal. The humming suddenly stops and is replaced by a few moments’ silence, before Ariel lances in through the open window, barefoot and windblown.
"Hi, Ced!" she announces rather loudly, picking herself up and tugging back her long hair.
“Ah, your feet! They are all muddy! And I’d just cleaned the floor!"
Ariel looks down at them briefly, and makes a sound as if to say “so they are!”
“What happened to your shoes?” he queries, only a child and yet already chiding.
“Oh, who needs shoes, anyway. Come on now, Leah says she’s found some elf-bolts in the glade.”
"- And what have you done to your dress?” he continues, “I thought you got that only last week, and it already has a rip in it?"
"It does? Where?” she mumbles, twisting and turning towards the torn part of her frock with a slight frown on her lips. "Oh dear. We’d better get Ferona to stitch it together again before mother sees. But not right now – come on, to the forest!”
"I can't," Cederic replies. "I am still not done with my chores."
“Yes, yes, good little Cederic, always minding his p’s and q’s and sweeping and scrubbing and so on and so forth. Come on now!” she tsks, already halfway out the window again.
"You can do your dreadful chores when you get back, since you love doing them so much! Anyways, we won't be long, I promise!" The dubious look on little Cederic’s face suggests the spry girl’s promises are not always to be trusted.
"But Ariel,” he draws out each vowel in her name in an attempt to detain her, “what if mother finds out?”
"What do you mean what? What’s she going to do?" she retorts from the other side of the window.
“She will be most unhappy with me,” he returns the half-done pot to the pile of dishes, rather reluctantly.
“Oh, pfft, is that all?” his young friend scoffs with a roll of indigo eyes.
"No, that isn’t all – for starters she would-" he begins, but naturally Ariel interrupts him.
"Exactly. She’s not going to do much of anything, and you’re just sca-ar-ed like always, you cowardly custard.”
"I am not!" he retorts between gritted teeth, already moving towards her.
"Yes you are, cowardly, cowardly custard! Cowardly, cowardly custard!" she sing-songs, pulling him on invisible strings.
"I am not a coward!" he tosses the dish cloth at her, and she dodges it easily, that mischievous laugh of hers starting up.
"And you’re slow as Aunty May’s maple molasses on a frigid Decilar day!” she taunts and starts to bolt away.
"Just you wait..." he threatens, un-strapping the apron and leaping out the window to give chase. "You've never been able to outrun me!"
"But you've never been able to catch me, either!" she shouts back as the two of them disappear in the distance.
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