…No…More…Food!

     "…mrow…"

     Sierra looked down at the panther, sprawled with a drum-tight stomach and outspread paws, and then groaned herself, unfastening her jeans just a few more buttons. Aeneas Dougal grinned at the sight of her hand on her jeans, but he was a bit too sated himself to do more than grumble and wink suggestively. He groaned when Bertram Jumoke prodded him with a foot, making a disapproving sound as he did so. Andrew Wiggin bounded through the living room of Kearna Tierney’s house, humming happily to himself as he polished a silver serving ladle. The children were curled up in various places on the rug, all of them clustered around the fireplace, fast asleep.

     The redhead herself was lounging at her kitchen island, nibbling on a forkful of sage and chicken sourdough stuffing, watching a tray of black walnut cookies bake in one of her massive ovens. Black Robin grumbled from where he stood at the sinks, elbow-deep in soap suds as he carefully washed, rinsed, sanitized and air-dried each of the cat’s precious copper pots. Tyler Kinkaid mumbled under his breath as he shifted his weight on one of the other hard wooden stools, eyeing the neatly stacked Tupperware containers with the few leftovers from Kearna’s lavish Thanksgiving meal. It was a happy house, all considered, and even Jonas Foster looked a bit relaxed for the first time in months as he sat on Kearna’s patio next to the brazier, a cup of spiced cider in his hands.

     "Why don’t you come have another piece of pie?"

     The redhead’s voice behind the priest made him smile as Jonas turned around slightly, dark eyes a little shadowed, but surprisingly mellow.

     "Kearna, dear, after that repast, I won’t eat for a week. You’ve nearly killed everyone simply with food," he said with a chuckle as she strolled over to him. Kearna was not shy, and really…would it ever occur to her that perhaps some people might not find her appealing? No, it wouldn’t, and when she moved Jonas’s arms to drape herself in his lap, it was done with the utter certainty that he would, of course, cuddle her.

     "It’s not my fault that everyone overate," Kearna said with a defensive pout, her emerald eyes sparkling mischeviously at Jonas as she rested her head on his shoulder. Tucking her feet under his arm for warmth, she tilted her cheek towards the fire and exhaled on a sound that was more akin to a purr than a sigh.

     Jonas laughed, carefully balancing his cider as he let her adjust herself, putting his free arm around her shoulders and hugging her lightly. "You made food too good to turn down, pretty creature. Who could say no to seconds? Or thirds?"

     Her slim body showed absolutely no sign of the fact that between herself and Tyler, they’d eaten the whole of the second turkey. Kearna looked down at herself and smirked a bit. "I certainly won’t. In fact, I think I’ll have a sandwich."

     The priest groaned melodramatically, making her laugh, and then kissed her forehead. "It was very sweet of you to do this for everyone, Kearna. I know you try to be ferocious and self-centered, but you’re really very thoughtful."

     "Shhhh! Don’t tell anyone that! You’ll kill my image!" She smacked his shoulder playfully, making the priest chuckle. Snuggling herself back against him, Kearna turned her green eyes to the fire, watching flames the color of her hair dance against the fading autumn sunlight. "I like large family gatherings, and I like seeing people eat. People should eat. It’s better than starving yourself."

<span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,15

3)”>     "Ah, but not everyone is as blessed with a metabolism like yours," the priest said, waggling a finger admonishingly. "Some of us do gain weight from such a feast."

     Her emerald gaze darkened faintly, and as if on cue, her stomach growled softly. The priest blinked, for a moment utterly astonished. He had seen everything she had consumed, and she had still been nibbling as they’d borne the dishes to her spacious kitchen. Kearna turned a wry face up to him, her dark red lips curved in a sardonic expression.

     "A mixed blessing, believe me," she said quietly. Jonas sighed softly, and kissed her forehead before hugging her once more. Kearna said nothing, merely slipped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. It wasn’t often the cat showed a hint of anything beyond fury or smug delight. She would claim later that it was the brandy in the plum pudding, and as always, the city’s inhabitants would curse the effects of liquor and look the other way. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t him. It was everything together, bound with the thread of constant anxiety that struck them all. Their Gift was still missing, and the city air seemed bitter without her.

(I realized I’d had it saved as a private entry the whole time. ^_^ Whoops! And, if the tone seems a bit odd, well…the city storyline is moving forward. There’s bound to be some angst for a little while. Hold tight; it will be sunny again.)