A bat with an orange ruff’s wings make a soft whooshing sound as she flies through the garden. Her modified satchel is bulging, a red-and-white-checkered cloth peeking out of the top.
Lanisen makes his way down the path, aiming for the quieter part of the garden. He keeps to the side of the path, and he has a watchful uncertain look that suggests he isn’t sure he’s meant to be here. He ducks in surprise away from the Bat.
Wethil lets out a surprised ‘eep!’ as Lanisen appears and moves. She swerves to the other side, catching herself in the shrubbery with a crunch. Her thumbs grab at the branches, keeping her hanging at about shoulder-height.
Lanisen is wide-eyed and startled, but he figures matters out quickly enough. “Oh, oh–! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you all right?”
Wethil makes the bush sway as she reorients herself, essentially hugging the bush. “Yes, yes, mmm, quite, quite fine, yes! And you, you are, are also alright? I wasn’t, mm, wasn’t watching, where I was flying, that is, mmm no.”
Lanisen says quickly, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I think I wasn’t… um, I wasn’t watchin’ for anybody flyin’, I’m sorry. You’re not hurt?”
Wethil looks over her shoulder, a small flower perched on her nose from the shrub. “No, no, quite springy, this bush, yes, yes.” Illustrating her point, the whole thing bounces as she lets go with one thumb.
Lanisen says, “Oh, oh, good.”
Wethil asks, “I don’t, mm, I don’t think I know you. Are you visiting, mm?”
Lanisen straightens and folds his hands behind his back. “Yes, with, with some friends.”
Wethil rather unsteadily extends her free wing as if to shake ‘hands.’ “How nice, yes, yes! I’m Wethil, that’s me. Would you like a…” she peters off as she glances down and sees the cloth poking out of her bag. “Hmm.”
Lanisen reaches out as well, half to shake and half to steady if it becomes necessary.
Wethil says, “There’s, mm, raisins, mmhmm, from Bergdale, you see,” rather apologetically. “Underneath. But, mmm… they’re buried, just a bit.”
Lanisen says, “Oh, that’s, thank you, ‘s very kind. I’ve just eaten, though, we just had breakfast.”
Wethil’s eyes get wide. “Oh! Is it that late already? Mm, mmm… These were for breakfast. Mushrooms, you see, from the Great Woods, yes yes… Is /all/ breakfast done?”
Lanisen says, “Er, I don’t know, I’m sorry. Maybe not? It’s early yet.”
Wethil agrees, “It is, it is, but, mmm, also late… Are you an early, early riser, Mister…?”
Lanisen says, considering, “I guess so. Er, my name’s Lanisen, sorry. You are…?”
Wethil says, “Wethil, that’s me, yes yes. If you want anything, anything at night, that is, I’m the one you call, mhmm.”
Lanisen says, “Oh, huh,” and tips his head to the side a little. “That makes sense.”
Wethil nods, setting the shrubbery rustling as it bobs. “Hot chocolate, or more blankets, or a book or a, a chat, mhm!”
Lanisen grins, but he says, ducking his head, “I wouldn’t want to bother anybody.”
Wethil’s wings (well, wing) slumps a little. “No no, no bother…” her gaze lands on her satchel again and she lets out another ‘eep!’ “I, mm, breakfast, yes yes, can’t be later… It was nice, mhm, very nice to meet you, Mister Lanisen!”
Lanisen says, taking a step back, “Oh, of course, sorry! Didn’t mean to keep you.” He ducks his head again. “Nice to meet you too.”
Wethil chuckles, hiding her face behind her free wing. “A good delay, yes, they’ll understand, yes yes!” She drops off the bush, catching herself as quickly as she can, and flaps off towards the kitchen again.