After carrying the firewood inside with her host, Sylvia was taught to make soup, & rather good soup as well. The man, Rowan, proved to know his way around the small kitchenette, advising Sylvia to cut vegetables before meat, showed her how to cut properly, & even gave her small bits of info that taught her how to coordinate ingredients together. In less than an hour, the ingredients tossed into water had boiled into a delicious soup which the both of them enjoyed.

Sylvia was quiet as she ate her food across from Rowan, unsure if she was allowed to ask him any questions. Other than his name, the tower of a man had yet to divulge any information fo himself. Likewise, he didn't ask Sylvia anything besides her name. It was... nice to not have to be witty for a change, she could enjoy the silence & focus on her food & the sound of the fireplace crackling just in the distance.

..._..._...

The women Emera surrounded herself with in the Elven palace were maddening. Mere months ago, River would have reveled in the attention he received from these women, perhaps even deflowered a few that seemed to think they were above falling from grace, but now that he had his sights solely on Emera, they were as good as knats nipping on a horse's hindquarters.

Coming in from his daily training in the courtyard, River could spot the woman with ill intentions immediately, catching the sound of her insulting his woman with his keen ears. It took all of his self control not to insult the woman's pride then & there, but here in Emera's country, he had to exercise a bit of diplomacy. Women were considered more as equals here, which made him wonder how Aranhil was faring with Sylvia back home, he knew his brother could be rather insensitive, & if the princess was anything like Emera, it would only take so long before she stopped catering to her man's needs blindly.

"Can I help you, Miss?" River asked the woman, his tone bored now, noncommittal. Not at all how he addressed Emera.