8th of Fall, 516AV
No matter what the season, except maybe the dead of winter, a kitchen always ended up boiling hot. Orin wiped the sweat that was rolling down his brow on his sleeve. Perhaps it wasn’t the most polite gesture, but no one was watching him back here. Besides, it was better than being blinded by salty water. In any case, his sleeves were already riddled with damp patches, which darkened his shirt.
Despite the heat, he loved it in here. For too long he’d been without the comfort that cooking brought him. While his psyche still bore the cracks of severing his bond and his complete loss of friends and companions after he lost Syliras, he could feel his mental walls get shored up, a little bit at a time, each time he came in to work.
He was lucky, he supposed, having a job that he actually loved to do. While he didn’t interact with others all that much, many seemed to be dissatisfied with their chosen professions, and that had always baffled Orin. He didn’t see why they didn’t just change jobs if that was the case. While it might not be quite that simple, Orin didn’t think that it was impossible. It was also infinitely preferable to being stuck in a life that one hated.
So Orin simply was content with his current situation. Sure, things could be improved, but he wasn’t motivated enough to do anything about it right now. Besides, he still felt he was getting established in the city. Beyond that, his mental wounds were healing very slowly. While he probably should be seeking more help than he did, opening up about his emotions wasn’t something that would ever come easy to him. So instead, he toiled away here, day in day out, and occasionally visited the Azurite Watchtower when his stresses and burdens grew too heavy to bear. His faith in Priskil had been a beacon in his darkest days. After meeting Kimbri, one of Priskil’s disciples here in Riverfall, Orin had been trying to both learn more about the goddess while at the same time recover from his traumatic past.
Some days were better than others. Regardless of his mood, though, Orin found that he could lose himself in his work, and it would sooth his spirits. Today was no exception. He was currently in the pantry, filling one of The Almond Blossom’s baskets with an assortment of greens, including spinach, cabbage, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, and leeks. When he had everything he was searching for, made easy by the incredibly organized shelves, he left the pantry, blinking slightly in the brighter light of the main kitchen.
Dolmar was hard at work at the opposite end, by one of The Almond Blossom’s ovens. The delicious scents of baking bread and roasting meat filled the air. Orin smiled, but they were familiar to him and he didn’t notice them consciously. Instead, they wafted around him and settled his nerves. Stopping by their herb station, Orin picked a few leaves from the still thriving parsley plant, making sure only to get the fully-grown ones. He added those to the top of his basket, and then strode over to his workstation. Picking up the knife he’d left there earlier, he started pulling the various greens he’d collected and laying them out.
He was about to start slicing them up into chunks when Dolmar let out a startled noise, one that Orin had never heard before. Even though the giant Akalak was more than capable of taking care of anything and everything, Orin was still shocked enough at the other chef’s exclamation that he whirled around. And before him was something that his brain was having trouble processing. All he could think was, ’well that’s not something you see every day.’