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Jora smiled as she watched him with Lyra, leaning lightly against the counter for a moment before moving closer. There was something about the way he handled all of it—steady, amused, patient—that made her chest feel warm and full. Home had always been a place, yes, but moments like this were what made it real. She snorted softly at his reasoning. “Smart,” she agreed, tone fond. “If she’s determined to do something, she’s going to do it whether we’re watching or not.” Better to arm Lyra with the right tools—and a recipe—than let chaos fully reign. Her gaze flicked briefly toward the oven, then back to him, clearly sharing the same unspoken thought. At his teasing threat, she huffed a laugh, lifting her hand to rest briefly at his side when he kissed her head. “Wow. Such devotion,” she murmured dryly. “I feel so cherished.” When he told her to check on Lyra, she glanced toward the pantry, eyebrows lifting as Lyra’s giggles floated out. “I knew that was too quiet,” she said, already pushing herself off the counter. She shot him a fond look over her shoulder. “Don’t burn the pancakes—or yourself,” she added, then headed toward the pantry. “Lyra,” Jora called gently but firmly, peering inside at the mess-in-progress. “You only need one bottle of syrup, love. Not the entire stockpile.” |
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Sage had nodded with a breath of air when she agreed that giving her the recipie was the right thing to do. At least this way the batter would taste right ... It wasn't the first time she'd tried to make pancakes, nor would it be her last. He just laughed softly at her next few comments, grinning at her as she groaned something about Lyra being too quiet and moving towards the closet. He caught her comment, shaking his head in amusement as he imagined the sight she'd come to find. "I don't think we'll run out of syrup today, hon," he noted when he heard Lyra's protest rise from the pantry, but let Jora explain their case as he started to place the now finished pancakes on plates for everyone. "Pancakes are done," he called after a minute or two, and had to practically dive out of the way as he was nearly taken out by a bottle of syrup, clenched in Lyra's fist as she held it high, sprinting from the pantry to the table. She had one clenched tightly in each hand, much to his amusement. He regained his balance, and moved to fill up a few glasses of water for everyone before taking his spot at the table, next to Jora. He tasted the pancakes heasitantly at first, since not all of Lyra's 'surprises' tasted good, but these were perfect, so he didn't waste much time after that before digging in happily. |
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Jora followed Lyra to the pantry with the kind of resigned fondness that only came from years of knowing exactly what she was about to walk into. Sure enough, there was syrup—far too much syrup—stacked and scattered like treasure hoarded by a tiny dragon. She crouched slightly, meeting Lyra at eye level, her expression gentle but firm. “Sweetheart,” she said calmly, easing one bottle from Lyra’s arms and setting it back on the shelf, “we only need one. The pancakes won’t run away if you don’t guard them.” Her lips twitched despite herself, amusement bleeding through her mock seriousness. “And if we use all of it now, there won’t be any left for tomorrow.” Lyra’s protest was immediate and dramatic, but Jora just smiled and guided her back out of the pantry, one syrup bottle still clutched triumphantly in her hands. She heard Sage’s voice from the kitchen and glanced up just in time to see Lyra bolt, syrup raised like a prize. Jora laughed, shaking her head as she followed more slowly. “Careful!” she called after her, though her tone was more fond than worried. She reached the table as Sage was setting things down, sliding into her seat beside him with a soft exhale. “Crisis mostly averted,” she murmured, glancing at Lyra, who was already attempting to unscrew both syrup bottles at once. Jora gently intercepted one, setting it in the middle of the table. “One,” she reminded, amused. She watched Sage take his first cautious bite, eyes flicking to his face. When he relaxed and started eating properly, she smiled, picking up her own fork. “Told you,” she said quietly, warmth in her voice. “She listens better than she lets on.” As she ate, she let herself savor it—not just the pancakes, but the scene. The noise, the mess, the comfort of sitting beside him in their own home. Chaotic, yes. But perfect all the same. |
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Sage had watched Jora take the second syrup bottle with amusement, a soft snicker escaping him as she chided her gently. "There's plenty of syrup there to go around love," he murmured softly to Lyra, setting the glass down in front of her. He hadn't realized Jora had waited for his reaction before trying the food herself, so he threw her an amused glance with a slightly wrinkled nose. "You're lucky I make sacrifices for you," he mused. Her last batch of so called pancakes had more salt than flour it seemed like, so he was glad this one was working out well. He reached for some of the syrup himself then, stopping Lyra from taking half the bottle. "You don't need that much hon," he added with a laugh, dripping just enough to cover the top of his own pancake before handing the bottle to Jora. "Careful," he noted. "It's sticky from small hands," he added with a soft laugh, glacing at Lyra, who was shoveling her own breakfast into her face. She was making a mess, but that was alright.....she'd be going straight into a bath after breakfast. |
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Jora took the syrup bottle from him with a quiet hum of acknowledgment, carefully gripping it higher up, away from the sticky fingerprints coating the middle. “Mm, thank you for the warning,” she murmured, amused, giving the bottle a brief, exaggerated inspection before drizzling a modest amount onto her pancake. “I’ll try not to glue myself to the table.” She caught his wrinkled-nose look and scoffed softly, shooting him a sideways glance. “Oh please,” she replied, light but pointed. “One time. And I admitted those were… experimental.” Her lips twitched as she finally took a bite, clearly satisfied. “Besides, sacrifices go both ways. I distinctly remember eating something you made that was closer to charcoal than food.” Her attention shifted back to Lyra as Sage stopped her from drowning her plate in syrup. Jora watched their daughter shovel food into her mouth, cheeks already smeared, hair sticking in odd directions. Instead of correcting her, she just smiled, reaching out to swipe a bit of syrup from Lyra’s chin with her thumb. “Slow down, love,” she said gently. “The pancakes aren’t going anywhere.” She leaned back in her chair, taking another bite, content. The mess, the teasing, the sticky fingers—it all felt right. Home, in the truest sense. |
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A soft chuckle escaped Sage's lips when Jora made a show of inspecting the syrup bottle, just watching her move about, a fond look glowing in his eyes. She really was perfect...the way she interacted with the kids, the way she supported their family, took care of the island...it was all so wonderful. And then came the teasing. He gasped in mock offense when she brought up the dinner that hadn't gone exactly according to plan. "That was one time," he complained. "Out of my many years of cooking," he added with a laugh. "Besides, it wasn't my fault the oven got bumped and heated up that much while it was cooking," he huffed, shaking his head as he took another bite to eat. "Besides, I did say we could try to get something else. You chose to eat it anyway," he pointed out. "I believe your exact words were 'no, its fine, i've had worse than this,' too," he added, eyebrows arching upwards. By then Lyra had finished her food though, and had made a run for it. He'd lept after her, grapping her around the middle before she could touch the furniture. "Oh, no you don't," he'd chirped. "Straight into the bath you go," he added, the girl's laughter echoing down the hall as he headed for the bathroom. |
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Jora laughed softly as he protested, shaking her head while she cut another bite from her pancake. “You always say it’s one time,” she replied, voice warm with amusement. “That’s how it starts. One time becomes a legend, Sage.” Her eyes glinted as she glanced at him over the rim of her mug. “And I stand by what I said. I have had worse. That doesn’t mean I wanted to admit defeat and throw it out.” She watched him chase after Lyra, laughter spilling from her as their daughter shrieked and wriggled in his grasp. Jora leaned back in her chair, listening to the sound echo down the hall, her expression softening into something deeply content. That sound—Lyra’s laughter, Sage’s playful voice—was everything. Once the noise faded toward the bathroom, Jora rose and began tidying the table, slow and unhurried. She gathered plates, wiped up the worst of the syrup mess, and rinsed her hands, glancing down the hallway every so often with a fond smile tugging at her lips. Home really did sound like this, she thought. Laughter down the hall, sticky counters, half-finished breakfasts—and the quiet certainty that she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. |
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Sage had somehow managed to keep a hold of Lyra on his way to the bathroom....he had gotten pretty good at that, he supposed, despite how good Lyra was at escaping from grips and rooms. Years of dealing with fish had probably aided in that, he supposed. Then again, she'd escaped him plenty in the past few years, so maybe he'd just learned her tricks by now. Either way, he had managed to get her into the bathroom and then the tub, washing away all the sticky bits from her hands and face, scrubbing her clean. It didn't take too long, and once she'd been dried off and dressed again, she'd already taken off once more. He wandered after her with a soft chuckle, watching her run into the yard and immediately move into the garden to look for ripe things she could bring back to the family. He watched for from the kitchen window...he wouldn't interrupt her, but she was still young to be out on her own, after all. Jora was still there, and he lingered beside her, letting the peace in the room and their daughter's laughter fill the space of the house quietly. The babies would be up soon, and the cycle would continue....something he wouldn't dream of getting rid of. Not now, not ever. |
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Jora watched the whole thing with a fond sort of disbelief, leaning against the counter as Sage somehow wrangled Lyra toward the bathroom without losing her once. She shook her head with a quiet laugh when he succeeded, arms folding loosely over her chest. “Every time I think she’s mastered teleportation, you prove me wrong,” she murmured, amusement soft in her voice. There was affection there too—pride, really. In both of them. By the time Lyra came barreling back through the house, clean and dressed and already halfway gone again, Jora barely had time to smile before the door thumped shut behind her. She moved to the window as Sage did, standing close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed, eyes following the small figure as she darted straight for the garden. “She’s on a mission again,” Jora said quietly, watching Lyra crouch among the plants, carefully inspecting leaves and fruit with exaggerated seriousness. “Probably foraging like she’s feeding an army.” She glanced sideways at Sage, then back outside. “Thank you for cleaning her up,” she added softly. “I know she doesn’t make it easy.” The sounds of the island drifted in through the open window—wind through leaves, distant waves, Lyra’s laughter as she found something worth picking. Jora let out a slow breath, resting her hand lightly against the counter, grounding herself in the moment. “This part,” she murmured after a moment, voice low and full. “The quiet before the babies wake. Lyra out there. You here.” She smiled faintly. “I never get tired of it.” Her gaze flicked instinctively toward the hallway where the babies slept. “They’ll be up soon,” she said, not with dread, but with warmth. “And then it starts all over again.” She leaned just a little closer to Sage, content, steady. “And I wouldn’t trade a second of it.” |
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Sage had laughed softly when she glanced out the windo to lyra, who was indeed on another mission. "She's glad to be home too," he mused softly, moving to wrap an arm around Jora's side when she came to rest agaisnt him. "Besides, I'm sure there's plenty of ripe and overripe foods that need to be cleaned out of there by now," he added with a laugh. He nodded when she thanked him, giving her an amsued glance. "She'll just get dirty again out there," he noted. "It's your turn after that," he teased gently, before nodding along to her other comments as he looked out the window again. "It is perfect. isn't it." he mused, thinking quietly abouot their little world here. "The cycle is a good one," he added with a shrug of agreement. He wouldn't change a thing about it, either. He did call out a soft warning to Lyra though, as she sped around the yard - "watch for things to trip on, hon," just as a fair caution. |
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Overcast and Humid, Clearing Overnight
