Boey managed to burn the porridge again, and Mae tried to salvage it with a 'battlefield modification' involving dried berries. The result was... not entirely inedible. It's strange how these small, chaotic moments at the Priory, surrounded by the scent of old books and slightly scorched breakfast, have become such a comfort. They remind me that even as we face great darkness, there is light in the simple act of sharing a meal with friends. I hope everyone finds a moment of such simple peace today.