|
Post by Young Grimwold on Jan 18, 2013 18:54:59 GMT
Dal: Yes, Miss Romili, you can. If that is all you sought me for then your quest was an easy one! What would you like?
*Dal glances at Shadow as she bolts from the inn, but he still has one eye on Knight.*
|
|
|
Post by Lufane on Jan 21, 2013 10:29:32 GMT
[ModNote: This post is for the character Romili, not Lufane.]
*Romili notices Dal glance at Shadow running out and looks in the general direction of the door in vague curiosity. She turns back, uninterested* Urgh, I don't much care, as long as it has alcohol and is worth what I'm paying *She flicks the before mentioned coins onto the bar*
|
|
|
Post by Shadow on Jan 23, 2013 20:52:34 GMT
*She comes back in and walks straight over to the bar.*
Umm...
|
|
|
Post by Lufane on Jan 24, 2013 13:19:40 GMT
[ModNote: This post is for the character Romili, not Lufane.]
*Again, Romili looks at Shadow, her mind already downloading information such as her face to reference later, should she need it*
|
|
|
Post by Autumn Valory on Jan 25, 2013 16:50:55 GMT
*Autumn just picks up Yiira again and sighs. Siana is still clutching onto her back.*
|
|
|
Post by Lufane on Feb 1, 2013 14:02:28 GMT
[ModNote: This post is for the character Romili, not Lufane.]
*As Shadow hasn't moved, Romili decides to engage in conversation* Er... hey... *Knight sniffs Shadow's leg, cautiously*
|
|
|
Post by Shadow on Feb 1, 2013 17:50:22 GMT
...hi.
*She hardly glances at her, or notice Knight sniffing at her.*
|
|
|
Post by Young Grimwold on Feb 6, 2013 18:45:43 GMT
*Taking the coins, Dal Marx nods at Romili. Then he steps away and calls through to the kitchen, where things are moving a little slower than he is used to.*
Dal: We won't be needing that plainberry cider, but we still need a bowl of hot water. And warm up some humbug mead, would you please?
|
|
|
Post by Callimpsest on Feb 6, 2013 20:02:47 GMT
Yes, Dal! *Callimpsest darts around the kitchen, where he is lending assistance. [OOC: He was last seen heading there from the marketplace.] He is glad to be helping others but is starting to struggle with his attempts to do several tasks at once, none of which he is particularly proficient at. In addition to preparing the drinks, he is trying to make a number of pies and stews. Every so often, a maid will drop by just in time to bring him back from the brink of a culinary cataclysm, but mostly they are too busy elsewhere in the convalescent inn. He has brought his copy of Athenaeus' Deipnosophists down from his room, but is finding that this rich source of cookery and dining information is not the beginner's guide he needs it to be, not least because it's in Ancient Greek. The other text Callimpsest has with him, Merlin's pamphlet on boiling the perfect egg, has also let him down: three paragraphs in, Merlin starts musing about the eggs of the quail and then goes off on a very dark tangent indeed. Callimpsest, then, is learning on the job. For inspiration, Callimpsest thinks back to his time at the Knightmare Boarding School, which had a fine kitchen. The school cook was a mystical figure, at least to him. Because Callimpsest dined at (deliberately) unsociable hours, he and the cook never met properly, face to face: but there was always a splendid meal ready for the librarian, seasoned or sweetened just so. If the chap could sense everyone's tastes as perfectly as he sensed Callimpsest's, he must have been a master of his craft. Even when Callimpsest sought only a late night tea, there always seemed to be one waiting for him: and in the cook, Callimpsest found the only other person he trusted to make tea just the way he liked it. Occasionally Callimpsest would call out his gratitude from the cafeteria and hear a muffled acknowledgement from some obscured corner of the kitchen, where the shy chef was doubtless slaving away in anticiptation of the next sitting. As Callimpsest picks up an egg, he considers how little he ever found out about the cook. In fact, he can only recall one notable detail; though it was a detail mentioned to him over and over, by everyone from Snowwiewolf to Malefact to Stan-Stan the familiar feeding man: how much the cook looked and sounded like him. An egg hits the floor.* It's me. Good gladness, he was me. Was, will be, me. *Callimpsest is convinced. He will use the Tower of Time again; he will journey back in time to the Boarding School; he will take up a job as school cook, suitably different in bearing and appearance of course; he will wait; and he will be there to stop that damned explosion from ever ruining everything.* Haha! *But wait: if he was the cook all along, and the explosion happened as it happened, is he destined not to prevent it? He scrabbles to pick up the broken egg. No. That is unthinkable. To go through all that just to suffer the disaster in two different guises? He will not contemplate that. Whatever may seem to have been written, it can be rewritten. And it will be, by his hand. As sure as that hand turns over pages; as sure as it folds dough and rolls it out into a new shape; as sure as eggs is eggs. He grinds his teeth. As soon as the school is saved, he will make it his mission to discover why in the Underworld folk insist on putting the singular form of the verb 'to be' with the plural form of eggs, for it seems patently unclever. But before that, he must work long and hard improving his cookery skills to match those displayed by the KMBS cook. There is a future to write and a past to rewrite, and* It isn't over, until... *He throws an egg in the air.* ...I declare that... *He catches the egg, looking from the broken one in his left palm to the unbroken one in his right.* ...It is ova.
|
|
|
Post by Shadow on Feb 9, 2013 12:01:56 GMT
Umm...I don't suppose you have anything that can cure a bad stomach, do you?
|
|
|
Post by Young Grimwold on Feb 10, 2013 12:18:21 GMT
Dal: I'm no physician, miss. But we are preparing a drink of hot water for that lady over there - *he points at Autumn* - and perhaps some would help you too.
|
|
|
Post by Shadow on Feb 10, 2013 18:15:47 GMT
Thank you.
*She doesn't smile. In fact, her face barely moves.*
|
|
|
Post by Young Grimwold on Feb 11, 2013 15:06:40 GMT
*A few moments later, the drinks are ready. Drassandre the maid fetches them from the kitchen, putting bowls of hot water before Autumn and Shadow and a cup of humbug mead in front of Romili. Although Drassandre would like to ask if Shadow is alright, she is too nervous of the wolf and skirts quickly away.*
|
|
|
Post by Autumn Valory on Feb 20, 2013 11:50:27 GMT
[OOC: Sorry for being away for so long. Just some family matters have been keeping me busy.]
Thank you.
*She takes the bowl and goes over to an empty table with it. There, she takes some of the leaves out she ad before, dips them into the water and wraps them around her grazed elbows.*
|
|
|
Post by Shadow on Feb 21, 2013 12:09:34 GMT
*Shadow goes to sit with Autumn. She doesn't seem to raise any objection with it, so Shadow just sits there in silence.*
|
|