( once she's sure he's placated, at least a little bit, she abandons him in search of the required sustenance: it means that she creeps up on the large door of the walk-in, at the back of the kitchen, taking in a breath before she yanks it open, as though expecting something to come bursting out. there are no monsters, no dogs, no giant plants clamoring for attention: instead, there's a modest supply of various food staples, and with a soft hum, she ventures inside.

a story, is it? when she returns, confident and calm, it's with butter, cheese, and bread in her arms, setting them down neatly onto the counter across from where suguru has settled. it puts her back to him, but she doesn't feel particularly bothered by that: she pops open the butter, looking around for a moment before locating a knife. )

Hmm. Is one from a story book okay? ( she sounds content, easy-going enough, that it'll be hard to discern whether the story is truly made up or something actually from her past. ) Once upon a time, there was a woman who could talk to the Planet.

( she sets out two slices of bread, right on the counter, already starting to butter one side of each. )

She fell in love with a wonderful man, and had a baby girl, who could also talk to the Planet. They were meant to take care of it, you see. Sort of like guardians.