
Sharing Clothes
I trail after an oft-yawning Atlanta to the storeroom of the house after our admitedly delightful experiment in the kitchen, feeling considerably better than before. My seiðr seems to like the “chocolate” drink, as it is revitalised faster after imbibing it than after devouring all the food that Atlanta has given me. I do not know why Atlanta looks droopier instead, but she seems healthy otherwise, so I worry not about it.
I worry instead of the clothes that she is digging out of a box labelled “7-10yrs” in the storeroom.
And indeed, she then passes some of the clothes that are roughly my size to me. I cannot avoid… this… without revealing that I can clean my clothes with my seiðr, and I would rather not do that at least for the time being, but… to be given secondhand clothes – by a non-relative, and by a mortal commoner, at that….
I truly hope that nothing of my misadventure on this new Midgard gets back to Asgardian ears. The reputation of the Royal Family would be ruined, otherwise, forget my own, and it would be far harder for me to sneak off somewhere in the future.
But, well, for now….