I am but mad north-northwest

Elle had cut her hair, to a few inches below her shoulders. She didn't want to keep it too short anymore - yet again finding herself in a concrete building full of glass, cement, and metal walls had been enough - but she still had to be responsible. The available water supplies were rather limited. This made things simpler and efficient. Still, now that she's here, in the cool Scottish evening rather than buried beneath the desert, the way it tends to slip into her face whenever there's a breeze is much more noticeable.

She'd meant to come out here to jog, but without any thought to it, she heads toward the forest instead. There is no visible activity near the edge of it, but Elle stops at one of the first trees, and leans back against it.

It had only taken a buzz of instinct to find what has turned out to be a perfect spot. Quiet, secluded, with a shield against the wind and a view of the grounds that stretched all the way back to the choppy surface of the lake.

She's done this enough that she knows where to look in X's kitchen without having to ask. It's been about fifteen minutes she started, and various vegetables are scattered across the counters, one steel pot already on the stove. A look into the latter would indicate she's making soup, though it's not as simple as the kind X likes to order, nor is it coming out of can, the way Elle would normally choose.

At the moment, she's standing aside from the stove, using a large knife to slice up carrots across a cutting board. Elle's careful about it, the knife hitting the board at even and precise intervals.




(This really isn't her favorite part of cooking.)