The cottage was unlike anything found in Mastorn; small and humble, built of a fine, golden-brown wood that took on a unique architectural design with the entrance of the house looking into a kitchen. Standing there, the sweet aroma that lifted itself into the pristine kitchen was something so familiar yet unknown to him.
This is…?! He thought.
Though she could hear his thoughts as they both spectated this memory, she chose not to interfere. Looking at his own two hands, it was a hazy memory, but just the very existence of it sent a spectrum of emotions through the man as he lived out his own tucked-away memories through his young body.
"I…"
Though he spoke, his words came out so soft, as if not used to using that function yet. Moving forward he walked towards the wooden stepping stool that sat near one of the counters, lumbering forward with his short, unresponsive legs.
