I stepped through the gate to my house expecting peace. A little Sunwell glow still clinging to my robes, my head clearer than it had been in weeks, ready to water the plants and maybe even finish one of those tailoring projects.
What I found instead was a battlefield.
Empty bottles everywhere. Potion vials, wine flasks, a suspicious number of felweed stubs. One of my carefully arranged dock plants was knocked halfway into the water like it had tried to escape. There were muddy boot prints on the new rugs, half-eaten snacks ground into the floorboards, and my poor cat was hiding under the tailoring table looking deeply unimpressed with her temporary caretaker.
Abeke had thrown a party.
I stood there in the doorway, staff still in hand, feeling my freshly restored calm evaporate like morning mist. My mind immediately started spiraling. Did she let strangers sit on my half-finished furniture? Did anyone touch my mail? Light above, what if someone read something they shouldn’t have? I could already picture the gossip spreading through Silvermoon faster than a rogue in stealth.
I started cleaning on autopilot, muttering the whole time. “I wrote it all down. I specifically said don’t turn the dock into a potion lab…” The Sunwell retreat suddenly felt like it happened months ago instead of two days.
Part of me wants to march straight to Abeke and lecture her until her ears bleed. The other part is just tired. This is what I get for trusting my chaotic little sister with anything more complicated than “stand here and look menacing.”
I’ll finish cleaning, brew some strong tea, and then decide how much big-sister wrath she actually deserves.
~Sahsha
(Weary Discipline Priest Returning from the Sunwell, Professional House Manager, and Questioning Every Life Choice That Led to Giving Abeke a Spare Key)