[It's February 14th! Early enough before the blind dates have started, Anya was busy. Yato was a little bit more difficult and she finds herself sending him a text.]
even if you don't need to shower today, please stop by my house! ヾ(･ω･｀★)ゞ there is something waiting for you on the counter. I hope you like it
[As promised, if Yato stops by Anya's house, there's a gift waiting for him in a house that smells like delicious baked goods. He'll find a little pouch filled with heart-shaped macarons, about 6 or 7. There's a neat little card written in Anya's neat and short hand-writing:]
Happy Valentine's Day! Please know that I adore you too.
- Anya ♡
[The macarons have their own little messages instead of the classic Sweetheart Conversations, customized based on whoever Anya's giving them to. This batch reads:]
GOOD LUCK WEALTH GUARDIAN ANGEL
[And since it's Yato and since Anya loves him, there's another note on the counter:]
Mama and I left extras by the oven. Take as many as you need if you're still hungry. There's sandwiches in the fridge too.
[ Anya's house is always warm and comfortable. It feels more like a home than his home ever did; it's quiet now, but it isn't lifeless.
The permeating smell gives Yato a good idea of what's in store when he steps into the kitchen. The notes, the pouch. Of course Anya would do something nice for Valentine's Day -- it's just like her. Yato sits at the counter and reads both notes. Then he opens the pouch and looks over each macaron slowly. He takes one out, notes the difficult shape and imperfect edges, and in this big house occupied by photos and memories and love and him, he silently begins to weep.
Before long, he furtively wipes his face and takes up the pouch and Valentine's letter. The second note, he quickly turns over and writes his own simple message: Thank you! Happy Valentine's!!♥ He leaves a little white box next to it that contains four handmade truffles, flavored with rose water. And lastly he stuffs a sandwich into his mouth, as always, before beating a hasty retreat.
If Anya turns his message over, she might notice what he failed to in his haste: a few splotches, the ink bleeding over her otherwise perfect handwriting. ]
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2/14.
even if you don't need to shower today, please stop by my house! ヾ(･ω･｀★)ゞ there is something waiting for you on the counter. I hope you like it
[As promised, if Yato stops by Anya's house, there's a gift waiting for him in a house that smells like delicious baked goods. He'll find a little pouch filled with heart-shaped macarons, about 6 or 7. There's a neat little card written in Anya's neat and short hand-writing:]
Happy Valentine's Day!
Please know that I adore you too.
- Anya ♡
[The macarons have their own little messages instead of the classic Sweetheart Conversations, customized based on whoever Anya's giving them to. This batch reads:]
GOOD LUCK
WEALTH
GUARDIAN
ANGEL
[And since it's Yato and since Anya loves him, there's another note on the counter:]
Mama and I left extras by the oven. Take as many as you need if you're still hungry. There's sandwiches in the fridge too.
[Yato's their favorite charity case apparently.]
no subject
The permeating smell gives Yato a good idea of what's in store when he steps into the kitchen. The notes, the pouch. Of course Anya would do something nice for Valentine's Day -- it's just like her. Yato sits at the counter and reads both notes. Then he opens the pouch and looks over each macaron slowly. He takes one out, notes the difficult shape and imperfect edges, and in this big house occupied by photos and memories and love and him, he silently begins to weep.
Before long, he furtively wipes his face and takes up the pouch and Valentine's letter. The second note, he quickly turns over and writes his own simple message: Thank you! Happy Valentine's!!♥ He leaves a little white box next to it that contains four handmade truffles, flavored with rose water. And lastly he stuffs a sandwich into his mouth, as always, before beating a hasty retreat.
If Anya turns his message over, she might notice what he failed to in his haste: a few splotches, the ink bleeding over her otherwise perfect handwriting. ]