Anyone can join, with a 50-word vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term.
Tom swallowed. The clouds were few and fluffy, not even colorful with sunset yet. The winds were light, enough to bear a ship along, but no storm would send ships smashing against stone. Still the mermaid sang.
His pursuers would not sing. The path went down, gently, closer to her.
I got up. Enjoy your fluffy pillow tonight, I told myself. And pack with care if you want any creature comforts on the road, given what the inns were like.
First, the letter of credit. I hoped it would extend to a few locks. Certainly a chest for the feathers.
"If you want to return to fluffy pillows and sweets made by a confectioner," I said, "the best route for you would be to -- " Aid her, I almost said, but the word choked in my mouth as I realized -- "Aid me. I can't sit here all day and night and watch."
"Your sweet life, with sweets and balls, fluffy pillows and ribbons for your gowns, stem from your family. It behooves you to remember your duties as well."
From which I deduced that Aunt Delia either was working on her will again, or wished to introduce me to a prospective bridegroom.