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Fire tries to make a cake for her birthday and Pulren is the test subject of her cooking.

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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on July 25th, 2015, 9:48 pm

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Summer 21, 515 AV


Having woke with a start, Firenze sat up rubbing her eyes trying to see through the sleep. Unsure of what had woken her she glanced over to the other bed, Pulren was still asleep, the covers tossed every which way. Hands placed on her spread she looked around trying to see what the cause of her waking so early had been. It was still quiet, the early morning crew voices were muffled outside calling to one another. Syna’s light barely started to show through the bottom of the windows, reflecting onto the walls.

A hand rubbed the back of her neck while the other cast the cover aside, feet swung down to meet the cool floor. Her chemise was twisted around the waist, tugging on it she tried to correct it as she stood. Stretching her arms out Pulren’s dove began to coo from the cage, as if asking for some breakfast. Stomach rumbling in agreeance that breakfast sounded like a good idea she grabbed a handful of seed, opened the little door, stuck her hand in and dumped it out for the bird, then secured the cage back up.

Feet shuffled quietly over toward the storage area for the food stuffs, scanning the area she wondered what sounded good for such an early hour. Meat always sounded good to her, but was unsure if there was actually any left to eat. It appeared that there was not much of anything left and that a trip to the market was in store. A few dried goods sat on a table and a couple of vegetables, Fire wanted something more than a mouth full of flour or greens.

Tip toeing back to her bed, she slipped out of her chemise and into her white silk dress. She sat on the bed and buckled sandals on and then slung her messenger bag over her her shoulder. She pulled the locket from under the neckline of the dress, laying it on top of the fabric. Tossing her hair up, twisting it and securing it.

The walk to the market wasn’t that bad, it hadn’t started to get warm out and the breeze of the water was kind of chilly, bringing gooseflesh every time it ran over her skin. The Sailors Quarter was something that she passed through on almost a daily basis to get to the Touchy Subject so the location of the Fish Market wasn’t lost on her. The smell of the fresh fish in the morning would be welcome to Fire.

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Last edited by Firenze on August 5th, 2015, 5:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on July 25th, 2015, 9:51 pm

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As expected the waft of smoking fish and fresh fish wafted through the air as she entered the market. She hadn’t made a shopping list and was unsure of what supplies she needed to gather. As she walked by a stall filled with different vegetables that were already starting to get a limp to them she paused as a thought struck her. Having been so busy lately she hadn’t realized that today was her birthday, she was another year older. It didn’t seem like it had been four years, it seemed longer.

This altered the mental list that she’d been putting together, wanting to add ingredients to try to make a cake. She’d never made one before, but she’d not really had anyone to celebrate it with her. Now that she was roommates with Pulren maybe she could get him to have a nice dinner and some cake with her. Without even asking she just assumed that he would be willing to join her, not even thinking if he might have plans, her excitement making her jump to conclusions, as she finally had someone to celebrate with.

They had some vegetables at home so she moved onto the next table loaded with all kinds of fish. After ordering, the man behind the counter handed over the package of wrapped fish, Fire passed over the coin and moved to the next stall, tucking the fish into the bag.

Almonds, dates, a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese for dinner to go with the fish were purchased, all stuffed into the bulging messenger bag at her hip. The next stop would be to find a stall that would have the ingredients to try her hand at a cake. That was going to be very problematic for the simple fact that she’d never cooked anything in her life… ever. Well, once. If you counted stirring some jam with an acquaintance then, sure, she could.

Coming up to a stall that was laden with different spices, flour, honey and other items she wasn’t sure of, a woman stood waiting to receive orders and unload her product. Fire hoped that the woman knew of cooking and might be able to tell her how to make the cake for her birthday. “Excuse me, do you know what I might need to make a cake?” a finger point, shifting around to the different items on the table as she watched the woman.

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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on July 25th, 2015, 9:58 pm

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“Aye, I might. It’s been some time since I’ve made one but I might be able to remember…” a toothy grin reflected back to Fire as the woman replied, “for a miza or two.” Brows furrowing, frustration came to the surface. She didn’t want to have to spend anymore money than she needed to but supposed that it would be more of a problem if she tried to just put things together without actually knowing what to do, rather than getting some kind of recipe and idea of what materials were needed. This was becoming way more complicated than she originally thought.

Sighing, “Ok, I’ll purchase from you… and give you a tip for your help, but, I want the recipe for the cake in which I’m getting the supplies for,” eyes narrowed to the woman and she hoped that her counter offer would be taken so that she’d have something to be able to go off of when she finally got down to the cooking of the cake. A nod came from the woman and she started to gather the supplies together, listing off what each thing was. Butter, milk, flour, yeast, eggs, salt and sugar. After gathering the items she turned to Fire, “I need ta know what you want it to taste like, it’s a seed cake of sorts so you can use any kind of seed for flavor, do ya know what kind ya like?”

Widen eyes glanced around at the different containers filled with spices, she had no idea what any of them were or what any of them would taste like. Giving her best guess she tried to describe a type of flavor - and completely obvious - that might work for a cake, “Um, something sweet? Maybe not too overpowering?” Shrugging, her cluelessness apparent to the woman behind the stall, “Well, it’s pretty darn obvious yer no baker.”

Pointing to a dark small seed, “Here’s some poppy seed, it’s got a nice mild nutty flavor, not too overpowering. I think you’d like that real nice.” Eyeing the small seed Fire leaned over, sniffing a little she noticed that it didn’t really have a smell to it, if the woman was telling the truth then it sounded good to Firenze. Fire nodded and the woman started putting seeds into a vial, adding to the other purchases.

“I’ll write you up the recipe, but yer gonna need to go get some ale somewheres else, I don’t carry none of that ‘round here.” With a nod she accepted the recipe for the sweet cake from the woman, thanked her for her help and added the extra pieces of silver as her tip to the overall total. Fire continued on her path through the market, she purchased a gallon of ale and arranged to have it delivered. While she was on her way toward said purchase she realized that she had nothing to cook or make the cake in. Fire sighed heavy, realizing that this shopping trip was becoming a lot more expensive than she wanted.

Leaving the merchant with the payment for the ale and the delivery fees her feet carried her toward the General Store to pick up the necessary pots and pans and what nots needed to cook and bake. Greeting the familiar clerk when she opened the door, her feet took her straight toward the clay wares, wanting to get the task done with as soon as possible.

He followed her over, inquired as to what she was purchasing and proceeded to pull items from the shelving to show her. Unsure of what was needed -again- to get she decided that if she was going to cook or bake that she’d need at least the basics. The clerk helped her to pick out the items, ensuring that she had the bare basics to get a meal cooked, and even items to eat said meal on. She paid him the amount for the items and then a delivery fee to have it dropped off at the cottage. All of the clay pots, dishes and cookware were not going to fit in the already overstuffed bag on her shoulder. Shifting the heavy bag she made her way back to the cottage, wondering if Pulren was awake yet. As she approached she noticed the delivery boy at the door dropping off the ale that she bought.

NoteAll purchases, minus tips and delivery fees, have been deducted from the Ledger on Fire's CS.
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Burning the Cake

Postby Pulren Marsh on August 3rd, 2015, 9:05 am

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Waking up to the scent of a woman was divine. It would have been even more wonderful had she started sharing a bed with Pulren, but in the small confines of his cottage, there was no mistaking the presence of the fairer sex there.Rubbing his eyes, he smiled and covered his eyes as Syna shone in his face. he could hear a steady tapping against wood coming from above, the sound of the dove as it ate. She had apparently fed the creature, something that Pulren appreciated. Swinging his legs over, he sat up and rolled his head around on his shoulders, looking around to see she wasn't present. Did he miss her? It seemed so.

Rising from the bed, he set about to making it up, a task he had learned in the barracks of the Wave Guard. It got the day going and eliminated the temptation of laying around in bed all day. Maybe he could convince her to join him in such a task one day. Where was she, though? Stepping outside, he took a deep breath and gave himself a scratch. No one could really see him on his little porch the way that the cottage was facing, save a bird or two on the hill side. She had clearly set out early and Pulren hoped she would return soon. Until then, he felt like he should get started with his morning routine of exercise. Being a mercenary now, it was important to stay in shape and use the expensive equipment he had purchased.

Stretching was first, always. He twisted slowly at the waist. stretching his arms out to his sides and bending down to touch his toes. He didn't bounce; doing so in the past had caused some unnecessary strain. Still in his green undergarments, he began jogging in place, bringing his knees up as high as he could to get his blood pumping. The sweat was already coming, a good sign. Stepping inside, he picked up the older chair that had come with the cottage and a short bar and the twenty pound weight, taking them back out to the porch and taking a seat. Sliding the bar through the hole in the weight, he held both ends of the bar and began lifting the weight up and keeping his arms straight out, feeling the slight burn in his triceps.

Ten repetitions and then he turned and stood next to the chair, one foot up on the chair. Holding the bar with the round weight flat on his fist, he began curling the weight, squatting slightly as he did so, feeling the burn in his bicep as well as the back of his thigh. He enjoyed the activity and he could tell it was going to be a good day. A cough turned his head, nearly making him drop the weight out of surprise. There was a younger boy with a small cask of what appeared to be ale standing there looking at him. Looking down at himself, he realized he was nearly naked and noticed the boy kept looking. "Wait there." He said it firmly but without malice. He was only interested in women but he couldn't help but feel appreciated. Probably just the whole vigor of the exercise.

Stepping back inside he opened his wardrobe and pulled a pair of black linen pants out, slipping them on as well as a pair of sandals. As he came back out, he could see Fire coming up carrying some clearly heavy sacks. This caught Pulren's eye and he quickly stepped past the admiring clerk and came to her side, taking the sacks from her. No way was she going to struggle with heavy burdens and besides, if someone was going to appreciate his recently exercised body, this was the person he wanted to do it.
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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on August 5th, 2015, 1:41 pm

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As she approached Pulren was coming out of the cottage, the boy leaning back under the weight, trying to stay up straight while he waited. Hefting the bag higher onto her shoulder, Fire picked up the pace so she could pay the boy for his services. Although she headed for the boy, her eyes were on Pulren, his lean muscles gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat, black pants slung low on his hips, feet were sandaled.

He moved toward her, grabbing the bags ladened down with food. The shoulder that had been bearing the weight felt the relief as it was removed. Giving him a grateful smile she thanked him for his help, watching his back flex and move under the weight as he carried the items back to the cottage. After her brief pause she continued over to the boy, paying him for his delivery and wait, eyes still on Pulren as he walked back.

“Here you are. Thank you for bringing this over, you did very well,” taking the small cask from him she handed him the coin, patted his shoulder and shooed him back to work. The boy took off his feet running back toward the market to make another delivery.

Turning, she followed Pulren’s path into the house and sat the ale on a nearby table with a sloushing thunk. Quickly reaching behind her to close the door, “I hope you don’t mind that I went shopping, I thought it might be nice to have dinner in this evening.” Moving over to the bags that he’d set down she started rifling through them, pulling out the contents and sitting them on the table the ale occupied.

“I also got some ingredients and a recipe from a lady at the Fish Market for a cake!” Excitement rang in her voice at making her first birthday cake... first cake ever actually. She didn’t really have experience cooking but hoped that it turned out okay and that Pulren would like it.

As she began organizing the items on the table, taking the few utensils from her pack near her bed and organizing those, another knock came on the door. Rushing over with her coin purse, hoping that it was the dishes, cookware and eating utensils, she pulled the door handle, stepped out and closed the door behind her.

It was the delivery man that she had been hoping for, a cart of items that he was hauling around delivering was nearby, her items wrapped neatly in one of the corners. Grabbing the coins from her purse, she slipped them into the delivery man’s hand, eager to get her purchases from him. She stacked the plates with bowls on top and the burlap wrapped utensils in those. The delivery man grabbed the rest of the pots and items and followed her back to the cottage.

Setting her purchases on the table she grabbed the rest from the man and thanked him. Fire glanced over to Pulren and grinned, “I got a pot and pan to cook with and plates and bowls to eat with. I got you a plate and bowl too.” She began to unwrap the items as she spoke, setting them off to the side. “I know we don’t have that much room but I thought I could store it in my chest, I have quite a bit of room in there still.” The pottery clunked onto the table as she set it down and organized. Pulling the lid off one of the jars she looked back to Pul again, “I got the jars for the flour and stuff, do you want to help me try to pour them in?”

She grabbed the small sack of flour and one of the larger jars. Pulling the lid off and setting it to the side. The sack of flour hefted up she tried to pour slowly and not get it all over the floor. Sensing him nearby, his chest still exposed she could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin. It was becoming rather distracting and her focus on pouring was becoming difficult.

Peeking out of the corner of her eye she saw him move, her gaze dropped to the low slung pants hung on his hips, following the waistband. Her face flushed and quickly redirected her attention to the flour as she cleared her throat softly. Trying to take her mind off of his current state of dress she opted for small talk, “So… how was your morning?”

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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on December 10th, 2015, 4:02 am

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She busied herself, trying to focus on the task at hand. Unsure of what the instructions said on the paper the woman had given she hoped it was legible enough for Pulren to read. Her excitement bubbled as she fingered the dishware in front of her. The blues were pretty hues and she hoped that he liked them. A sad thought crept into her mind as she realized that one day soon she’d have to finally find of place of her own and let him have his space back. It wasn’t unusual for her to want some company around, quite enjoying his, but what it was different for her to start to feel like she was relying on his company. It scared her a little at getting that close with someone. One moment she felt warm and happy and then a thought would pop into her head and her heart would race and she would start to feel panicky and claustrophobic. The thought of getting close to someone and losing them again so soon the root of the anxiety.

Flour puffed up from the jar as she finished pouring, sliding the lid back on she set to the task of pouring sugar into the next jar. The lid placed back on she stood up and smoothed the sacks out on the table, unsure of what to do next. Looking over, she decided that the fire should probably be started so when the mix was ready she could put it on without having to fiddle with getting a fire started.

Bending down next to the hearth she pulled a little bit of kindling into a pile and arranged a few larger sticks into a teepee shape over the top. Grabbing her flint and steel from the trunk she struck on it over the shavings. A spark leapt from the striker, hopped into the small pile and began an ember on the soft shavings. Blowing softly the ember crawled it’s way through the kindling, a soft pop and crack as the oxygen fueled the tiny flame, sparking it to other areas of the small pile. As she blew on the wood she add progressively larger pieces, switching between blowing and adding until the fire became a decent size under the grate.

NotePulren has given permission to use him to finish the thread

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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on December 10th, 2015, 4:04 am

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Moving back to the table she handed the paper the woman had given her to Pulren. Glad to have him there to help, she’d decided that with the little amount of room that was in the area near the hearth it would be best to try to make it herself but she still needed him to read the scribbles that she couldn’t decipher that would tell her exactly what goes into the cake.

Grabbing a bowl and setting in front of her she popped an almond into her mouth and prepared herself. Staring at the ingredients on the table she was slightly lost on where to start. As he began to read she tried to follow the directions. First was to mix two and a half cups of flour with the salt. She didn’t have any true measuring cups or spoons but figured that an actual cup might work. Pulling the tin cup she used for most things from her trunk she set it on the table and pulled the lid off the flour. The cup wouldn’t fit into the small opening of the jar so she picked up the jar and tried to pour it into the cup. Unfortunately the flour came out a lot quicker than she expected and flour dumped onto the table, her clothes and a little onto the floor. Fire tried to smooth the flour off the top of the cup and then dumped it into the bowl. Holding the cup near the edge of the table she swept the excess into the tin and a little onto the floor then tried to fill the it the rest of the way up with the jar, careful to not tip as fast and dump it again.

Again, she dumped the cup of flour into the bowl and began pouring flour into the cup. This time she only needed a half so she went slower pouring than the first two times. When she got the cup to what she thought might be about halfway she set the jar down, lidding it.

Next was the salt, he told her she needed and eighth of a teaspoon but she had no idea what kind of measurement that was, what size a teaspoon was or how to even determine an eight. Anxiety peaked and she panicked if she should just stop where she was and if she was getting in over her head. Glancing at the different spoons on the table that she’d bought she picked one up and tried to figure out what an eighth would even be. Did it mean one spoon out of eight spoons? She stared at the spoon, turning it over in her hand and tried to figure out what the older woman meant.

The instructions said a teaspoon, so she figured that using a spoon of salt is what she meant, dismissing the part about only needing an eighth considering she couldn’t figure out what it meant and that it probably wasn’t important. Shrugging she scooped up some salt into the spoon, dumped it into the flour mixture and began to stir. It felt a little silly just stirring some flour around with the salt, they were the same color and they’d get mixed up when she added all the ingredients together anyway, right? She did as the instructions told though.

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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on December 10th, 2015, 4:05 am

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After stirring around the flour she set it down and grabbed a cup, filling it from the small cask. Taking a small sip she placed the cup onto the table and dumped the yeast into it. He told her to add in an eighth of a teaspoon of the flour mix, grabbing the same spoon she’d used before she scooped up a spoon of the mix and put it into the ale and stirred.

The instructions told them that the yeast needed to sit and dissolve, while they waited he’d read off the next part and she grabbed the necessary ingredients; butter, sugar and another bowl. This one was slightly smaller but it would make do. Fire had no idea on what the measurements were for anything and when he’d told her she needed four ounces of butter she just kind of stared with a blank look. How was she supposed to measure that out? She had no idea. For a moment she wondered if the woman had given her that amount or if she needed to measure it. Hoping that it was already measured, since the woman told her that she’d gathered everything she needed for it, Fire dumped the square of butter into the bowl.

She needed three fourths cup sugar but again she was lost on what that measurement even was. Half a cup she knew, that was kind of obvious but a third of a fourth, what did that even mean? Blowing a piece of fallen hair out of her face, she wiped at her brow, smearing a little flour on her forehead and measured out a cup of sugar. Licking her finger she stuck it into the cup and picked up some of the sugar, tasting it. It was rather delicious and being too sweet couldn’t be such a bad thing right? It was supposed to be a sweet cake.

Dumping the sugar in with the butter she tried to stir it with one of the clean spoons, grunting she pushed against the resistance of the butter, the spoon threatening to bend against the pressure. Sighing she dropped the spoon into the bowl and decided it might be easier to smash the butter and sugar with her hands. Wiping of the excess on the spoon into the bowl she squished her fingers down into the butter, the material oozing between her fingers as she grabbed at it and churned the ingredients together. It made a rather big mess of her hands but it was definitely a lot more fun to mush together than it had been trying to stir.

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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on December 10th, 2015, 4:06 am

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Next was the eggs and seeds. She tried to grab one of the eggs with her slick fingers the round object slipping between the greasy digits. It fell onto the table and cracked, but thankfully held the contents within instead of spilling them onto the surface. Scraping off what she could on her hands into the bowl she wiped messy hands onto the front of her dress, resigning to the fact that she’d have to wash it later. Grabbing for the egg again she smashed it onto the table to try to get the contents available to put into the bowl. Unfortunately this time the yolk and whites spilled onto the table top smearing the loose flour.

Cupping her hand alongside the edge she pushed the egg into the hand and dumped what she could into the bowl. Another attempt at the second egg, this time trying to tap lighter she formed a crack into the shell, held it over the bowl and then pushed onto the crack to try to break it open. The contents spilled into the mixture, along with a few small pieces of the shell she hadn’t noticed. Taking the vile of the little black seeds she dumped that in on top of the egg and then began to churn everything together with her hands again, creating quite a gloopy mess. Frowning, she pulled her hands up and looked at them, the egg was dripping from her fingers and slightly slimy. Not as familiar with the texture she wasn’t sure that she liked it.

Pul told her to make a well in the flour in the other bowl and then dump the yeast mixture into it and fold it. Staring over at him for a moment she pondered on what that even meant. A well… what did that even mean? A well was something that you got water from… it had a hole in it where the water was drawn up. Make a hole in the flour? She looked down to the flour in the bowl, cupped her hand and pushed the flour around toward the edges. She supposed it could look like a well… a very odd looking one, but a well none the less.

Next she dumped the yeast from the tin cup into the center and it did kind of give the appearance of a well full of water. She chuckled a little, excited that she’d made it look like something that it wasn’t. Folding she wasn’t sure on either, but usually if she folded something it was her clothing. How could one do that in this situation she wasn’t entirely sure.

She stared at it for a long moment pondering exactly what it meant, her head hurting a little from trying to decipher the meaning. As she watched the yeast soaked into the flour making it wet. Making a face she decided it would just be better to mix it instead of trying to fold it. Sticky fingers went into the mixture as she squished together the flour and yeast. It started to form a really sticky paste all over her fingers, but the smacking and burping sounds from the substance was rather entertaining so she played with it for a little bit before she had to move onto the next step, enjoying the moment and the feeling of the textures.

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Burning the Cake

Postby Firenze on March 4th, 2016, 5:07 pm

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Fingers covered in the residue hung over the bowl as she waited for the next instructions. Doing as told she picked up the soft butter and began to smash it into the sticky dough. Her hands slipped through the mush from the grease of the butter as she churned the ingredients together. After it was mixed in she poured in some of the milk from the pitcher. Clumps of the dough stuck to the handle when she sat it back onto the table. The white liquid sloshed around the bowl, some spilling over the edge as she tried to work it into the heavy sticky mess.

It took a while for it to mix, the dough had begun to soften into more of a liquid, it still had density to the consistency but it wasn’t near as thick as it had been. Her hands had begun to cramp so she took a moment to use the back of her hand to wipe a hair that had fallen into her face and give them a rest. It was a lot more work than she thought it would be.

Once rested she picked up the bowl, hands slipping against the ceramic surface she tried to keep it balanced and from falling as the liquid splash heavily around the bowl. Tipping it slowly the batter spilled into the pan. After the contents were in the pan she wiped her hands off, some of the gunk stuck beneath her nails.

The pan was then placed onto the grate within the hearth. She took her seat back at the table. Using the side of her hand she scooped all the bits that had fallen onto the table into her other hand off the edge. Moving over to the window she tossed them out and brushed her hands together. Looking down she was covered in loose flour and bits of batter, the edge of her dress caked from where she’d wiped her hands. Making a face she noted that laundry was in order after the cake was finished, needing the fire to boil some water.

She relaxed in the chair she’d been sitting in, trying to make small talk with Pulren as eyes watched the batter bubble softly. It looked as though everything was going okay so far. That was until a half bell had passed and the cake had started to rise. Over the next ten chimes it continued to rise… and rise. The cake folded over the edges of the pan, some of the loose batter dripping into the ash and fire slowly, a sizzle emerging from the smoke as it bubbled on a log. After a few more chimes the batter began to thicken and stopped dripping, color darkened the top of the cake into a light fawn brown in the center. The edges were a deep brown and was quickly turning to black.

This caused a little panic as she scooted over to the hearth quickly, grabbing a piece of nearby cloth and pulling the hot pan from the heat. With a frown she dumped it onto the table with a resounding thunk. Plopping back into her seat she continued to chatter, her excitement to try her first cake bubbling through as she waited for it to cool. Would he be disappointed if he tried it? Her mind questioned as she looked over to her companion.

Pressing a finger to the top, checking to see if it was cool enough to cut the cake, which was supposed to be springy, didn’t move. Worry surfaced as she grabbed her knife and pressed it into the surface. It took more pressure than expected and she had to use both hands pushing against the handle to get the blade into the cake. Was it supposed to be a tough cake?

After a few strenuous ticks she’d managed to cut out a couple pieces. Using the blade as leverage the square was shimmied and popped out, half of the cake still stuck to the bottom of the pan. She gave an uncomfortable laugh trying to brush it off to first time mistakes. Placing it on the plate she handed it to Pul, then did the same task with her own piece.

Placing the knife onto the table she sat back into the chair. Long legs kicked out in front of her a smile on her face to taste the cake that she’d worked so hard at making. Bringing it up she took a bite from the edge. She attempted to take a bite from the edge. It had begun to harden really quickly and it was rather difficult but she’d managed to shave off a piece into her mouth. Chewing hard against the texture the flavors weren’t entirely bad... but it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Looking over to Pulren she made a face, trying to smile, as she mushed the cake around in her mouth and then placed the plate onto the table. It wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped for, not the greatest, but not exactly edible. Perhaps the bird would enjoy it for feed for awhile.

Others | Firenze | Thoughts
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Firenze
Food, or Friend?
 
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Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2014, 8:25 pm
Location: Sunberth
Race: Kelvic
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