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seat. Madam Cohen sent him to wake them up for baking. The bakery had to prepare for its early-rising customers after all. Lighting a lantern and groaning, Ziva stared at their current attire. Loose pajamas consisting of an old shirt and too-large trousers. One of the few things Ziva was actually comfortable sleeping in. Their long hair was still in neat brown braids, so they didn’t touch those. Only Stelara could get Ziva’s hair done that well. They shook their head, needing to think of something else. Wearing a white button- down and fitted black trousers, with pink-tinged cheeks and a small smile, Ziva met their mother downstairs in the candle-lit kitchen.
“Good morning, Mom.”
The smell of fresh bread wafted through the whole cottage and out into the cobblestone street. Ziva could see Púca and Madam Cohen from the stairs, already dancing around the kitchen. No music needed, of course. Neatly clothed from her dress down to her apron ties, the only thing out of place was the consistently messy bun Ziva’s mom sported. Excitedly smiling, Madam Cohen looked at the steps to greet her child before continuing to bake.
“Morning, my lovely hazel-eyed baby! Wearing pants again? Don’t get me wrong, you look great, as usual! Anyone who’s related to me would, though I wish you’d dress more ladylike.”
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