Wandering (Open.)

Raven was bored. It was evening in the Draegonheart Castle when she had returned, sweeping through the front doors and shutting them against the cold night outside. She had hung her forest green robes on the coat hook in the shoe room and after determining that no one was still eating in the dining room, and had walked up the marble stairs to the second floor. She entered her room and flopped onto the bed, seemingly content to read, but after only a short time she sat up frustatedly, threw the novel aside, and left her room. Raven started to pace in the carpetted hallway outside, then after a split second of thought, she descended the staircase and made her way to the kitchen.

Raven did not know how to cook. Every time she tried it seemed that something was set on fire. She could bake some of the best desserts around, but when it came to cooking she even managed to botch maccaroni. "Someone come cook for me," she muttered grumpily, surveying the fridge for leftovers. There hadn't been time for lunch at work and she found herself starving.

Bella had been waiting for Iggy to return, and in doing so had grown quite bored. Iggy had both of the babies with him, and it felt strange not to have anything to do. She realized she hadn't had any time to truly relax in a long time. She didn't like the feeling of not doing anything productive, so she began heading down to the kitchen to make something to eat. It wasn't much, but it was better than sitting around and twiddling her thumbs. She was surprised when she came across Raven in the kitchen, muttering something she couldn't quite make out under her breath. "Oh-sorry. I didn't realize anyone was in here."

Raven sat down at the kitchen island as Bella entered. "On no, come on in." She waved her hand. "Have you eaten? Being a mother requires a lot of energy," she said. "I would make you something, but as I'm sure Iggy has told you, I can't cook without setting something on fire." She rubbed absently at the growing bump on her cheek. "Unless you want alcohol or cupcakes, I'm useless in a kitchen." She was hungry for real food, but too tired and sore to apparate without possibly splinching.