acatalepsy_logs | [open] come along for food

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[open] come along for food

Who: Boreas and you!
Where: Kitchen
When: Lunchtime, early part of sick week 1
Rating: Nothing spicy here except food, maybe
What: Grumpy dragon dad cooks.

From: Wintersmith

I am roasting something I hunted.

Tell me something about your home and I will give you a piece.

[ True to his message, Boreas can be found inside the Temple's rudimentary kitchen. He's cleared out a decent amount of space next to the oven, the carcass of a deer-pigeon fusion animal on the counter with half of the meat sliced off. A rich smell emanates from the brick oven where several cuts of meat are currently cooking - not-quite buttery, carrying notes of spice and zest.

He'll be cooking slices of the deerpigeon as people come, plating them when the juices have completely soaked in. The meat is a bit tough, which he has tried to remedy by cutting slits in the meat in hopes that the residual fat would soften the muscle. What might stand out to others is the manner that it has been seasoned with - the meat is rubbed with butter and some oil to make up for the leanness of the meat, but there is also noticeable amounts of berry paste stuffed into the steak. The texture of the paste is much like pesto, along with how little it has been added, clearly evident that it is meant to serve as seasoning. If one licks a bit of the paste, they'll find that it's the source of the spiciness. It's a strange sort of flavour, but not entirely unpleasant - just unique. Mixed in with the paste are bits of something hard, possibly seeds. Biting them stings, like peppercorns.

Adults may be offered a glass of wine if they look like they need one. Otherwise, feel free to hang out in the kitchen while he cooks his kill. Ask questions, chat with each other, tell him stories while the temple flu isn't too intense.

Occasionally one might see him with his horns replaced by bunny ears. There's probably a reason to it but he's not telling you ]

[ ooc: feel free to tag each other as well! he'll just be around cooking until the meat runs out. if anyone has taste preferences he can try to accommodate them. if you'd like to do wildcards I'm game. hit me up on plurk or via pm ♥ ]

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[ She is more interested in this food than some of the other fare provided. This reminds her of the palace, of banquets at the side of the king. He had liked hunted game, and demanded it be plentiful at his table. After his death, she had been much more austere and enforced it at her table as a symbol of their mourning for him. No one here will care about that. No one will look at her black dress and black cloak and think she is a young queen in mourning for the man who raised her. She'll wear that black until she dies.

There's a nostalgia to the smell of game, spices, fruit, and something... more. She realizes with a pang that it's hunger, overwhelming and roiling. She hasn't eaten in hundreds of years.

Bewilderment crosses her features at what her body feels in reawakening to this need. She slumps rather gracelessly into a chair, a hand at her forehead. ]

Pardon me... I did not realize how hungry I was, until this moment.

[ Boreas had cast a glance at her as she had walked in - a certain refinement to the way she holds herself, the pitch black of her dressing. Though, he had not commented on any of that - if she is willing to offer information, it will be on her own terms. Here, they are all nameless, all strangers - civility is something he must use instead of intimidation.

Though, her words elicit a more obvious reaction from him. He does not leave his post at the kitchen, still working on preparing a cut of meat, but he raises his voice so that she can hear. ]

Are you in the habit of eating spice?

[ Some find the taste of dragon berry too overpowering, as they have told him. ]

No.

[ She decides that is the simplest way to answer. All of her habits, as they were, are so far away they might as well not exist. And before her imprisonment, she had eaten mostly from her own garden. Easier to avoid poisoned food that way, wasn't it. ]

Not in a long time.

[ She exhales, rest her forehead in her hand, already trying to get control over the sudden sensory overload. It already isn't the first time. While waiting in the dark, she had not thought at all about how alien the world would be to her should she rejoin it... ]

[ There's a pause before he starts picking out part of the berry paste from the food he's preparing. From the looks of it and her words, she looks weakened, and it's definitely not a good idea to feed malnourished people intense cuisine.

It would be easier if he could soften the meat, but the animal's flesh is tough to begin with. He can only hope some cutting would suffice. ]

I'll take care of that.

[ Curt as he is, he's not about to let someone starve. ]

What's your name?

[ She almost protests that he doesn't need to take care of it, that no alterations be made, that she wouldn't complain in the first place, but the primal desire to eat something as soon as possible stills her tongue. She's not going to argue, she's going to sit and breathe and try not to make herself sick wolfing down the first food she sees. Even as a starving child she had known better... but even as a starving child in a war torn world she had never been hungry like this. ]

I am Lady Ilde.

[ Perhaps the title isn't necessary, she knows enough to omit her more formidable title of Lady of Cinders, but... she's been Lady Ilde since she was thirteen, that is more difficult to revert. ]

Thank you.

[ For all of her other faults, she does know how to be gracious. ]

[ Lady. There's a flicker in his eyes when she says that, the pricking of a wolf's ears.

Then he's turned away to work on a new piece of meat, to mince it the best he can with limited tools. ]

I am the Wintersmith. Though, here I am merely a common man.

[ So, no need for formalities. Or to thank him, because he's just doing what's right. ]

Do you have enough water?

[ He's seen plenty of sniffling people, and while Ilde doesn't carry any of that, he can't help but worry a little ]

[ In a better moment, she would have smiled wryly and suggested 'common' might not be the word. In this moment, she takes the point of it and files away 'the Wintersmith' to contemplate upon. ]

That much I can manage...

[ She is bitter at her own weakness, but she lifts to her feet. It is well within her abilities to get a glass and pour water from a carafe. For a moment, she wonders who fetches it, but knows it must be the mist-like servants scattered about the temple. ]

[ It is true that what he said sounds like a hypocrisy. And it is - but for a reason that he justifies to himself. He's gone by that name for years and years, there's no reason to abandon it now.

Not when it defines him always.

He gives a hum of acknowledgment so Ilde knows he's heard, then turns to prepare the food. After a while, he puts the newly prepared cut of meat into the oven... and they'll have to wait.

Boreas watches her, but not obviously so - his eyes flick around the room, at the other occupants; but he's sure to take in a bit more of her manner with every pass. ]

[ Despite the moment's weakness she had shown, she is standing straight once more, poised. She has a sorrowful look about her, mouth downturned as its general expression. If nothing else, it makes the black dress suit her demeanor. She pauses at the countertop where the water carafe is, her hands curled around the stone as she turns her head to look at out a window. Sorrowful, and tired.

She pours her water then and returns to her seat. The glass placed first, then she removes her cloak to place it over the back of the chair. Too informal a setting to require it, she thinks. ]

What rank does the Wintersmith hold?

[ He meets her gaze when she speaks. From her demeanour and all that he's watched her with, it seems that she is someone accustomed to royalty. Not that he has good experiences with them, given that the task that propelled him to (in)famy was the public execution of one... but that doesn't really matter now. Here, everyone is equal, and he ought to approach this with civility. ]

I am not a lord of man. I am a lord of dragonkind; I mediate their relations with my nation.

[ This is the first thing he speaks about, given her potential past status. He has always distinguished himself as different from other, monarchial leaders, and this approach hasn't failed him yet. ]

Dragonkind.

[ Murmured with weary thoughtfulness. ]

My lord told tales of dragons, but I never met one for myself.

[ The covetous nature of powerful spell casters was a burdensome annoyance to a dragon. All they ever wanted was their hide, their hearts, their teeth. Ilde really isn't any different, she thinks of things infused with power to their very bones as things to be dismembered. ]

They certainly do not mediate with us.

[ Indeed so. The dragons of Orbis Eden would not have paid attention to the scrawny mortals scurrying about beneath the sky if it did not imperil their very existence. ]

They are proud, powerful creatures. They would not have mediated with us either if not for a matter that concerns the world itself.

[ And with their cooperation, both dragonkind and mankind survived. ]

Though, none of them crossed over here with me. I am alone.

Does that trouble you?

[ This is a line of questioning she turns on many; watching for places to put her hooks. But her voice carries such earnest inquisitiveness, it would be hard to suspect of her any untoward intent. ]

[ Even if she did show her intent, he wouldn't be afraid to voice it. Honesty has always been how he's done things; there's no reason to deviate from that now. ]

It is simply my new state of existence. Trouble as it does, I must adapt to it.

[ A wan smile. That wasn't exactly what she asked, but she's not going to correct the sentiment either. ]

Yes, we must. I hope we will be friends in that, Wintersmith.

[ She intends that in the most courtly way possible; not like she expects him to have a sleepover. ]

I'm sure we will.

[ There isn't much to gain out of enmity, either. He's been called out on being abrasive towards strangers before, so he's mellowed out since then.

Though, he moves to pull out the roasting tray from the oven now - while they were talking, the meat has plenty changed colour and should be ready to eat. He plates it with the care of someone both experienced and intensely focused before setting it down in front of her along with the appropriate utensils. ]

Let me know if you need anything else.

Thank you.

[ She stares at the food, obvious hunger on her face, but she's afraid if she doesn't move slowly she will swallow it whole. She takes another sip of water, her lips compressed tightly around the cup, and frowning at the food. It takes her time to begin to cut it apart and put it into her mouth, and her hands shake while she does it. If nothing else, it illustrates she values control over herself quite highly.

She sits back before she can become too engrossed in the food, offering softly, ]

I find it strange to meet a lord who cooks. Is that your custom?

[ Boreas studies her as she eats. There's a lot that speaks from her manner, the battle between one's wits and one's hunger - it draws a great deal of questions. Where this woman comes from, how did she come to be in such a state.

Of course, it's not his place to ask questions, so he contents himself with just observing. ]

Yes and no. [ He was expecting this question. Isaz is a country poor in resource and harsh in environment, so he's never really considered himself above the civilians' station. ] I am a lord of dragonkind. That is a title that they bestowed on me. I am not a lord of man. I lead them, but I am not royalty. I came from the same roots as them.

[ A civilian. This he will remain, to his oath of living like them, because there's no reason for a lord to feast while his people starved.

And it's an oath that he's carved with the blood of the previous king. ]

My homeland is one of harsh environs. I do what I can to help my people live easier.

[ Which... includes cooking, yes. One must feed one's compatriots, those who are bound to mortal existence and are thus susceptible to starvation. ]

[ She was much the same. A war orphan who had found a strange way upwards. She had never cared much for others, however. She had seen too many die to want to attach herself to them. By the time she was queen, all she had wanted was power. And quiet. ]

That is kind of you. While I enjoyed tending a garden to supply fresh fruit and vegetable, I never did take to cooking.

To each their own, [ he says as a blanket statement. Different people have different interests. He's not going to judge her for what she chooses.

Though... ]

There is a garden here, if I recall. You may be interested in it. It was tended but still needs attention.

[ She smiles at him, it's a wan sort of thing. Almost like she's doing it against her will. ]

That would be nice, to garden again.

[ Or maybe there was just too much sorrow mixed in for the smile to feel quite right. ]

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[open] come along for food

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