All the Little Songbirds, All the Silent Trees

Aeron hesitated just inside, glancing around to take it all in. He had had no idea what to expect from Tove’s home, and yet this still somehow was exactly right.

It was nice. He liked it.

She shrugged off her cloak and Oleander leaped down to greet the other cats. She hung it up, then kicked off her boots and set them by the other. The staff went against the wall. "Set your things anywhere," she said, striding into the kitchen and ducking under the herbs. "What kind of tea suits you?"

“What are the options?” He bent and pulled off his own boots, then sat them neatly next to hers and followed her towards the kitchen.

"Apple, sage, chamomile, blackberry sage, mint--just about anything." She opened a cabinet, taking a paper packet of blackberry sage tea for herself. "And I've got honey if you want to sweeten it."

“Apple, please. And yes with honey.”

"Right." She took out a pair of worn ceramic teacups and set them on the counter, tapping out tea from two packets. Then she set a kettle on the fireplace, which sprang to life. The kettle filled with water. Tove gestured to the tiny room beside the kitchen, which had a little table and two chairs.

Aeron shuffled towards it, but waited to be invited to sit down. Never could be too careful in a witch’s house. Not that he thought she was unstable and would turn him into a newt or whatever — more just couldn’t be sure which items were charmed and would have an opinion of their own about you touching them.

Tove noticed his hesitation. "I don't curse my furniture," she snorted. "I'm not Wicked John. Want any sweets with the tea? I should have some, unless the brownies ate everything."

“Oh, uh, heh.” He smiled sheepishly, turning back towards her. “Sure. I’m all stomach, my Ma used to say.”

"Right. I've got ginger biscuits, molasses snaps, and an apple cake." She opened up another cabinet.

“Ooh!” Aeron considered for a moment. “Ginger biscuits sound lovely.”

Tove took out the tin of biscuits and a plate, setting a little circle of the thin cookies down and bringing it over. "So. Do you still practice walding regularly?"

“On and off,” he admitted, gently sitting down in a nearby chair. “Usually keep it straight retro when I’m traveling to be safe… but I’d like to get back to it. Starting to fall out of practice.”

"Dangerous to fall out of practice," she mused, seating herself at the table. "Magic's the sort of thing that gets frustrated if you don't use it often enough. Might blow up in your face if it's bottled up."

“That’s fair,” he allowed with a nod, reaching for one of the cookies. “My roofs been leaking for a while anyway — maybe I’ll just make it harder and figure out how to get the magic to cooperate and fix it for me.”