9th of Fall, 514 AV
The house was in complete silence when Ayviss finished separating the tools she would need. Hollard had left, early, and had ordered her to clean the house and prepare lunch for when he came back. Cleaning the house was something the woman was already used to, but cooking... This still was something she couldn't do right. Most of the time, the temporary slave Hollard had brought home would cook, as part of his or her training, but this time, there was no temporary slave. Ayviss knew this situation wouldn't last long, it never did, but in the meantime, she would have to cook.
She could cook, if there was a recipe, and there was this time. But it didn't meant that she liked to. However, most of the things she did weren't things she liked to do, so she could endure one more. Fighting the urge to sigh, Ayviss grabbed the piece of paper in which the recipe was written and read it over again, before she put it aside to begin to prepare the ingredients. Chicken soup. Hollard had enough money to eat better foods, but Ayviss probably wouldn't be able to prepare them anyway.
Clearing her mind, like she always did when she was getting ready to work, Ayviss sat down on a chair and started to peel the carrots. It took long, and sometimes she would take off a bigger piece of carrot than she needed to, but in the end, they were peeled (even if slightly deformed), and that was what mattered to her. Putting the carrots aside, she took the onion, peeled it with her hands, placing the skin on the table, and cut it in four. Then, she took the celery and cut the stalks, separating them and putting the rest near the onion skin.
Ayviss got up, took the largest pot she could find in the kitchen (which wasn't saying much, in fact), and put the chicken pieces inside it. She was grateful that the chicken was already chopped, as she had no idea how to do something like this without making a mess. And if she made a mess, she would probably spend her lunch time cleaning the kitchen. Definitely not something she wanted to do.
She cut three of the carrots and two of the celery stalks into pieces, frowning to how different from each one they looked. Nonetheless, she placed the cut vegetables inside the pot, together with the onion and salt, pouring water in the pot until it covered everything. She found it strange that the onion was placed in such big pieces, but she would follow the recipe. It was better than trying to invent something. She had just placed the pot on top of the wood stove when she heard the front door opening. Her eyes widened, and she wondered if she was really late with lunch. If it was so, she could expect a punishment. Normally it wouldn't bother her, but right then... It could ruin the plan.
But the steps weren't approaching the kitchen. No, they were going towards the other direction, and Ayviss could hear that her master was accompanied. She frowned, and looked at the cooking soup. Hollard only brought one kind of guest to his house, and it was the kind that were related to his work. Deciding it could be new and maybe important information, the woman left the kitchen, her steps light so she wouldn't make a noise.
Slowly and silently, she made her way to the corridor, and stopped in front of the closed door that led to Hollard's office and small library.
The house was in complete silence when Ayviss finished separating the tools she would need. Hollard had left, early, and had ordered her to clean the house and prepare lunch for when he came back. Cleaning the house was something the woman was already used to, but cooking... This still was something she couldn't do right. Most of the time, the temporary slave Hollard had brought home would cook, as part of his or her training, but this time, there was no temporary slave. Ayviss knew this situation wouldn't last long, it never did, but in the meantime, she would have to cook.
She could cook, if there was a recipe, and there was this time. But it didn't meant that she liked to. However, most of the things she did weren't things she liked to do, so she could endure one more. Fighting the urge to sigh, Ayviss grabbed the piece of paper in which the recipe was written and read it over again, before she put it aside to begin to prepare the ingredients. Chicken soup. Hollard had enough money to eat better foods, but Ayviss probably wouldn't be able to prepare them anyway.
Clearing her mind, like she always did when she was getting ready to work, Ayviss sat down on a chair and started to peel the carrots. It took long, and sometimes she would take off a bigger piece of carrot than she needed to, but in the end, they were peeled (even if slightly deformed), and that was what mattered to her. Putting the carrots aside, she took the onion, peeled it with her hands, placing the skin on the table, and cut it in four. Then, she took the celery and cut the stalks, separating them and putting the rest near the onion skin.
Ayviss got up, took the largest pot she could find in the kitchen (which wasn't saying much, in fact), and put the chicken pieces inside it. She was grateful that the chicken was already chopped, as she had no idea how to do something like this without making a mess. And if she made a mess, she would probably spend her lunch time cleaning the kitchen. Definitely not something she wanted to do.
She cut three of the carrots and two of the celery stalks into pieces, frowning to how different from each one they looked. Nonetheless, she placed the cut vegetables inside the pot, together with the onion and salt, pouring water in the pot until it covered everything. She found it strange that the onion was placed in such big pieces, but she would follow the recipe. It was better than trying to invent something. She had just placed the pot on top of the wood stove when she heard the front door opening. Her eyes widened, and she wondered if she was really late with lunch. If it was so, she could expect a punishment. Normally it wouldn't bother her, but right then... It could ruin the plan.
But the steps weren't approaching the kitchen. No, they were going towards the other direction, and Ayviss could hear that her master was accompanied. She frowned, and looked at the cooking soup. Hollard only brought one kind of guest to his house, and it was the kind that were related to his work. Deciding it could be new and maybe important information, the woman left the kitchen, her steps light so she wouldn't make a noise.
Slowly and silently, she made her way to the corridor, and stopped in front of the closed door that led to Hollard's office and small library.
