Lush grass hosted morning dew that hadn't had the chance to dry quite yet. Shrubs walled off the paths and an intoxicating scent permeated the air—sharp nitrogenous sweetness.
The fresh culmination of a nightly storm left the skies shaded by swirling puffs of white and the late morning Sun bared its light enough to send down a delicate glow upon the gardens.
Such melodramatic weather. She could sit with her eyes endlessly wandering the skies, letting her thoughts drifts akin to the clouds above.
"Meko?"
The dulcet voice brought her blank stare back down. Oh, that's right, they were under a frilly blue umbrella—table of white metal which had a polished glass circle in its centre.
She looked to the redhead, "What?"
One of Hotaru's ears folded, "You haven't touched your muffin," she pointed out.
