Uma woke up in her bed. The familiar soreness of yesterday's forge work had settled into her body, making her want to do absolutely nothing — but she looked around, realized she was back in her room, and let that sink in for a moment.
She figured one of the adults must have carried her. She didn't know why, but the image made her heart flutter.
I think I can say with confidence that I hit the jackpot, she thought as she got up and walked over to the closet full of dresses, pulling out a black one.
Dresses aren't exactly my style, but I reckon showing up in a hoodie and jeans is cause for burning at the stake.
She made her way downstairs, which was oddly quiet. It was probably early morning — when she opened a window the smell of dew on grass hit her, along with the soft golden glow of a sun that had just barely decided to show up.
Guess everyone's asleep.
Uma wandered around looking for something to do, eventually finding herself in the library studying more of the language. She was no Shakespeare, but she figured she was grasping the basics well enough.
She spent another thirty minutes drifting around before settling on dusting the bookshelves — of all things — after finding a duster tucked beside what she assumed was the checkout counter.
God, look at me. I'm like some little house servant.
Though she did consider the facts. These people had fed her, clothed her, saved her life, and she was fairly certain they'd basically adopted her. Dusting a shelf was the least she could do.
She kept going. One shelf became two, became the whole library, became things she knew for a fact no one would ever notice. She only stopped when her legs gave out and she dropped into a chair, drumming her hands on her thighs.
I don't want to read again and I fear if I clean any more I'll develop a disorder.
She looked around at the rows of books and started mentally compiling a reading list — which was immediately interrupted by the obnoxious sound of her stomach announcing itself.
She eyed the kitchen doorway.
Do I dare.
Turns out it was pretty straightforward. The whole setup was like a medieval version of a modern kitchen, and the coolest part was the stove — a flat black stone slab with a controlled fire burning steadily underneath it.
Alright. Seems easy enough. Let's get cracking.
Uma cracked her knuckles and got to work.
Work, for Uma, meant being covered in flour within ten minutes with grease stains up her arms while bacon sizzled on the stone.
How did I get flour on me. There is literally no flour in this recipe.
She pushed past the ghost flour and found some eggs. Beat those. Somehow ended up with one whole egg's worth on her face.
I am not made for this.
Uma sighed and kept going anyway. She was already in too deep to quit. She was briefly startled back by one of her bacon strips catching fire — and that's when she heard footsteps and the familiar sound of Serosa's morning yawn.
Serosa took one look at the kitchen, then at Uma, and said something that landed in the general vicinity of —
"…Smells good."
Uma couldn't quite make it out, between the dialect and the fact that she was watching a second strip of bacon combust into ash on the stone. It drew a laugh from Serosa.
"Need help?"
Uma shook her head. I'm a grown woman. I can cook bacon and eggs. She gave a thumbs up, which drew another soft chuckle. Serosa said something along the lines of "call if you need help" and sat down at the table with a book that was well out of Uma's weight class.
Uma didn't notice. She was locked in.
By the end, the bacon had only moderate char marks and the egg yolks were only slightly broken. She plated everything and set it in front of Serosa, who looked at the flour-and-yolk-covered girl standing proudly before her, laughed softly, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
Then, in a tone that made Uma want to clean the entire house all over again, she said:
"Thank you, dear."
I could totally get used to this, Uma thought with a smug smile as she turned away.
"Any for Hamaron?" Serosa asked, poking at her breakfast. The flour mixed into the bacon had a certain… flavor profile.
As if summoned by his name, Hamaron burst through the door with his iconic opener.
"HELL—"
Serosa threw a chair at him.
Seriously, where is she getting all these chairs from, Uma thought as she straightened up from behind the one she'd ducked behind.
Hamaron walked over to Serosa and leaned over her shoulder, saying something Uma couldn't quite catch — though it sounded like it was about the food. He reached over and grabbed a bacon strip.
Uma could have sworn Serosa was about to introduce him to either a chair or her fist. She hadn't decided which.
Instead Serosa simply let him take it.
"Uma made."
Hamaron took a bite, paused, and let out a laugh. Uma pieced together enough to get the gist.
"So that's why it's so bad."
I understand completely why she throws chairs at him. Uma eyed the nearest one and considered it seriously before her body reminded her she could barely lift a five pound book right now. She sat back down at the table and started practicing her spelling instead.
Serosa finished her plate and got up to cook a real breakfast for Uma and Hamaron, who sat across from her. Uma noticed the whole scene — the quiet domesticity of it, Serosa moving around the kitchen like it was the most natural thing in the world, Hamaron stealing food off plates that weren't his — and her heart did that fluttering thing again.
She silently thanked whatever god had brought her here.
Which was immediately overshadowed by the fact that she could not for the life of her write the alphabet correctly. She ruffled her own hair and slumped against the table.
Serosa set a plate down next to her and fixed her hair without breaking stride.
"You can do it, dear."
Uma silently groaned and angrily ate the food. It was amazing.
She took another swing at the alphabet and almost got it right — except Z and A were swapped, which infuriated her more than it reasonably should have.
Fuck this stupid language and its stupid alphabet.
She clipped the chalkboard back to her side and sighed as Serosa and Hamaron fell into a conversation she couldn't follow. The words she could make out gave her no useful context whatsoever.
Then both adults stood up. Hamaron cracked his neck. Serosa tapped the table next to Uma.
"Come. Up, up."
A what. Uma stood.
Serosa gestured for her to follow and led her outside.
"…Going to run some errands."
Well, shit. Okay.
Uma skipped to catch up alongside her. Then she looked up at Serosa walking beside her in the morning light and smiled, mentally checking something off a list she hadn't known she was keeping.
Errands with mom.