#pov tiny catgirl mentally beats the shit out of you

[castcatze]

@voxpopularis //

N'yare muttered some impressively creative curses under her breath as she entered the mess hall of Camp Broken Glass. By the Twelve, could a grown man not take care of himself? For all her less than savoury words, she did, of course, care. Maxima would most likely pass out eventually on one gods damned cup of coffee.

Requesting whatever food they currently had on hand, with a few extra 'please' and 'thank you' to boot, she was handed a plate stacked with popoto pancakes. Waving to the staff with her free hand, she swiftly made her way back to the garlean man. "Eat up." She put the platter down in front of Maxima, giving him a smile.

In silence, she watched him take a bite with far too much intensity, before sighing. "I'm well aware, Maxima. And dont worry," she grinned, showing her teeth, "I will be taking full advantage of that. No one works well on an empty stomach, not even you." N'yare's eyes softened, leaning back to rest on the table. "I can't have people passing out and hurting themselves on my watch, now can I?"

hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . <3

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 || ACCEPTING

❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink .

The miqo’te woman had all but cornered him. Maxima had insisted to her that no, he was quite fine with the single cup of black coffee he was slowly sipping from as he worked through his daily responsibilities, and that yes, he would eat some proper, solid food once he could suitably excuse himself from his work. N’yare, however, in her expert medical opinion, knew that a man cannot survive off caffeine alone, and had hounded Maxima into eating some godsdamned breakfast before he collapsed onto the floor from starvation. His selflessness and eagerness to always put the needs of others before himself was admirable of course, but when it crossed the threshold of self-sabotage, N’yare knew she had to intervene.

Forcefully grabbing onto the sleeves of his jumper, she had pulled him down into a nearby chair, and had instructed him to wait while she retrieved a hot meal for him from the mess hall. N’yare had returned with a plate of popoto pancakes lovingly prepared by their cooks and placed it down in front of him. Any lingering thought of all the things he should be doing around the camp quickly melted away as the scent of the pancakes reached his nose, he was not immune to homemade traditional cooking. Reaching for a fork and knife, he carefully began to cut through the pancakes and took a decently sized bite.

They were light and fluffy, cooked to perfection. Maxima couldn’t help but smile as he tucked into his breakfast. Taking a brief moment to swallow, he turned towards N’yare to express his thanks.

“I must confess, if you didn’t drag me to the table, I likely would’ve passed out from overworking myself again. ... I suppose I need to stop thinking I can do everything at once without taking a moment for myself all the time. N’yare, if you ever catch me doing this again, you have my full permission to smack some better sense into me.”