Guilt Trip (Eoin)

[Vala]

25th of Spring Chimes passed like Bells. Bells passed like Days. And the passing of the two days already felt like it had been a season. Whatever time’s prerogative was, the side effect was severely annoying Vala, to near insanity. She had even tried to skip meals for a while but that didn’t work out - she had given up after one. She ended up resorting to a new tactic to avoid notice - going during traditional Dek meal times. She hated the jostling, desperateness of the dirty critters, but she just couldn’t face the Avora man - not yet. But two days was enough, more than enough. Vala just couldn’t handle being in their dirty, dirty presence. It had taken the girl two days to build enough courage, well more like guilt, to finally face him. Standing outside the doors of Wind Reach’s Communal Kitchen, Vala pulled out the crumpled Avoran food voucher from the pocket of her Byrda. The longest she had gone without fiddling with it, when she was awake, was about twenty chimes. She didn’t understand why. Why what? She didn’t even know what. She just felt wrong. Her stomach hurt. She felt light headed. She either felt too cold or too hot. Her skin itched. Just absolutely everything felt so petching wrong. Vala needed it to stop. She needed to get some sleep. Her bloodshot eyes were cowled by the dark bags bellow. Fisting the voucher in her left hand, Vala rubbed her eyes with the back of her right. The door blasted open as an Endal couple strode out confidently into the courtyard. Vala stepped back to let them pass, keeping her head down. When they had walked away, the door was still open, only slowly closing. Vala slipped into the crack, slinking in like a guilty fox. She continued to scuttle through the room, sticking close to the shadows. Her skin began to itch like crazy; Vala stuffed her hands into her pockets, still gripping the voucher tightly in her left. Her plan, well lack thereof, was to find the man that had given her the bloody voucher, and give it back. Try as she might, she couldn’t toss it away, rip it up, or even burn it. The only option was to give it back - as she had convinced herself. She just needed to get it out of her hands; she couldn’t handle the feel of the worn paper against her flesh anymore. Her eyes scanned the room. Her line of sight was severely limited, the edges blurred from lack of sleep. It took her a few chimes to sort through the bustling chefs and workers busy at the stations to finally find the man from two days ago. She closed her eyes and scanned the room again, landing right back on the same man. She didn’t want to be wrong, her fragile sanity just couldn’t handle a let down right now. She stuck to her shadowed corner, biding her time, observing him longer just to make sure. She watched as his nimble hands moved in a blur. She watched his face as he concentrated on his job. She watched every one of his petching movements until she was really, really sure it was him. Then, when her heart was racing to the point of bursting she moved. Her feet seemed to fly, barely touching the ground as she flitted to his side. “Sir?” Vala dropped her head, holding out the voucher in both her hands. She refused to look at him, silently begging him just to take the guilt trip curse away from her. “Please...” The voucher was a blur as her outstreatched hands shook violently.

[Eoin]

With one hand flat as a plank for support and the other cupped in a loose crescent, Eoin threw in the last few slices of potatoes. He grabbed the ladle and stirred just so, enough to cover each pale yellow piece with a thin layer of bubbling stew. This was mainly to trap less air bubbles, helping to prevent trapped gas in one’s stomach, a phantom presence that causes a person to eat more than necessary in attempt to fill the space occupied by the air. A small detail, but not one he would miss and was most definitely a pet peeve of his. The potatoes were extremely filling aside being one of the more fatty vegetables, and would serve to be a helpful addition to the slow cooking meal. The man sacrificed just a second of his time to take in the stew’s scent. Despite being able to smell the thing from anywhere in the kitchens, albeit mixed in with various other aromas, it struck a special nerve to take it in its purest form. Then, as if to make up for that brief lapse in working, Eoin returned to his station and dove into his other task quickly. While the stew had been brewing, the man had been preparing to make a batch of dinner rolls to accompany other meals as appetizers. Though not everyone had the luxury to enjoy the bread recipe, he was proud to serve whomever he could. The basic process had been completed a bell ago, mixing in water, milk, eggs, butter, sugar, salt, flour and yeast together in a bowl he managed to salvage, having gone straight to the washrooms to attain it before another chef could. It was a bit underhanded but was necessary as the kitchens were becoming a jungle near peak times. So much so in fact that Eoin felt a bit like an adventurer having to traverse the overgrown foliage, avoiding predators and traps and all with a dry waterskin counting down his days. While in reality, he was merely slithering through the crowded aisles, remaining on the chef’s good side and hurrying to serve every customer. It was quite fortunate that the Inartan style of dress for men was to be bare-chested, as the man had no time to even roll up any sleeves. Kneading the dough was an arduous process, but it wasn’t actually very tedious as it took up a lot less time than an amateur might think. It was as simple as leaving the dough to sit, letting it become naturally malleable before performing a short knead. Folding the dough in half toward his body, he pressed and stretched with the heel of his hands, rotating a quarter turn before repeating the process. Thus, in only five chimes, it was popped into the oven where another assistant chef was managing the flames. Then somewhere nearby, he had heard a small voice call him. Eoin hadn’t even noticed the girl swoop in, but it wasn’t difficult to mask one’s own footfalls amongst the commotion of the kitchens. He could only see a head of hair before him, a piece of paper flapping nervously in shaky hands. It took a second for the man to recognize the paper, and then the girl, as it was difficult to remember her since he couldn’t see her face at the moment. When he last saw her, tears were rolling endlessly to her jaw from a pair of distraught, bloodshot eyes and it was no wonder that Eoin did not wish to keep such a sight in his memory. He had taken her second departure as a sign of acceptance, as she had told him her name, but not necessarily forgiveness. Still, with green eyes set on her disturbed stance, he wasn’t so sure if he should try again. The man was still a bit at a loss with the whole thing, but it wasn’t as though he had learned nothing from their last encounter. He knew enough to know that it would not be wise to reject her offer, even if he may feel compelled to have her keep the voucher. Perhaps another time he could make it up to her, but at the moment, this was the safer choice. “Thank you Vala.” A kind voice was what he went for, trying to emulate a sort of forgiving tone though he felt wrong doing so. His fingers, crusted in dried flour, hovered over the paper before reluctantly taking it from her hands and placing it onto the countertop. He was careful not to dirty her hands with his messy digits out of courtesy and embarrassingly, out of fear. The man certainly didn’t want this meeting to end in the same way, not if he could help it. Still, he couldn’t help but want to make sure she was fine with the exchange, and against his better sense he confirmed, “Are you certain you do not want the voucher?” Eoin felt a pang of regret surface soon afterward, as it was the same sort of nosiness that got him into trouble the last time. He didn’t know if saying more or less on the topic would harm the situation, and so he switched to another, hoping to divert her attention. “Do you want to help out today?” He asked gracelessly, his inexperience in socialization showing as clearly as freshly crafted glassware. Eoin then fixed her with another one of his tentative looks, hiding his embarrassment well beneath a waiting expression.

[Vala]

That was it? It was oddly unsatisfying. A total let down actually. The guilt hadn’t been stripped away as she had expected, rather it had just dulled to be masked by her usual case of self loathing. What surprised her though was his nonchalance. In all her fantasies it had always played out with the chef yelling her out of the kitchen, finally giving her the respite of a simple hate for; the best case scenario she had ever expected would have been him coldly dismissing her. All this forgiveness and the friendly offer of work just gave her the willies, but it also calmed her down enough to try and listen to some reason. Vala rubbed her bleary eyes again, trying to wake up some more. “Sure why not.” Pulling out two leather thongs from the pocket of her byrda, she tied up her hair into two mussy pigtails. “So uh, what would you like me to do, sir?” Vala’s had dropped any false personalities she adopted to manipulate; she was too tired for that silliness. Vala was all business now. Though her voice was cool and soft, it was no near disrespectful, adopting an expressionless tone. And while dark heavy bags lined her red veined eyes, and her skin was ashen and unhealthy, Vala was distinctively lucid and quite serious. Her hands itched ready to get to work, and straight into mind numbing busy work. As she waited for him to give her instructions, she checked out what he had been working on – stew. Vala was a big fan of stew. The stuff was filling and the bite sized cuts made it easy to chew with her small mouth. Her chapped lips quirked up, just for a second, as she breathed in the homey scent. Her tummy grumbled lightly; she was hungry, but she still felt to nauseous to keep anything down at the moment. And she definitely wasn’t going to be making the same mistake of filching food in front of Eoin again.

[Eoin]

oocThe flour takes about a minute to thicken. The milk takes 4-5.

She seemed to take the exchange well, and for that he was fortunate, gradually relaxing a few tense muscles. As he did, Eoin finally took notice of her appearance, much more haggard and aged than he remembered. Instead of a bright Yasi, she appeared more like a weary Chiet woman returning from the daily grind of work. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve asked her if she was planning to volunteer her time, because she seemed to accept it as a passing notion. However, the sharpened look in her bloodshot eyes seemed to hold a sense of determination he had never seen before, but that was not surprising considering their short time together. Though he noticed nothing of her change in tone and demeanour, the man felt a new, unexplained sense of respect for the girl. Feeling revived, Eoin proceeded to his instructions in that familiar, curt tone. This time however, he spoke through the voice of a personable mentor rather than a commanding superior. “I’m not sure if you’ve cooked before, but please melt the butter in this saucepan. Mix in five tablespoons of flour until it is thick, then slowly mix two cups milk in until it is thick again. Do not fold the mix or lift the spoon too much to prevent air bubbles.” It wasn’t a particularly difficult task as the heat was at a medium, but he thought it served as a fair introduction to cooking. After all, it did require careful observation to melt the butter to a suitable state as it is less healthy in its solid form and patience in adding the milk. He would help add the mixture to the carrot, celery, ham and potatoes into the pot later, and that would be all there was to making ham and potato soup. “Ask if you need help.” Eoin hoped she wouldn’t, as he had enough tasks lined up with the shortage of Yasis in the kitchens, but he certainly did not want Vala to hurt herself again under his supervision. The mysterious illness plaguing the youth was quite detrimental to the kitchens in particular, as they were meagrely staffed as is and their attendance made worse with the recovering Yasis. Luckily, every other caste seemed healthy to work, though some continued to even on the brink of death. He thought nothing of the hacking coughs and sniffling noses the day before until he had arrived to work and was perturbed to see the abundance of unused clean dishes. With the ingredients already together, off the man went to tend to the meals of the Avoras and Endals, already grateful for the Chiet’s help. Eoin had thought of rewarding the voucher to Vala for her efforts today, but he wasn’t sure if she wanted it since she made an effort to return it to him. It seemed like a plan that could easily backfire and would with his luck, so instead he kept his mind open to other ideas as he went to retrieve a pan and the ingredients. The man had done most of his preparation in the morning, and though he couldn’t exactly know what was going to be ordered, there were always popular ingredients. Fortunately he was only missing the fish, which needed to have its gutted and scaled as the Avora had requested to have his own catch cooked. Thus, off he went to find the fish and a butter knife. Settling at the station just behind Vala, a firm hand held on to the front as the blade scraped from tail to head. Carefully, he manoeuvred around the fins and the collar before moving on to the gutting process. Slipping the knife at the vent, he sliced toward the head and along the belly, forcing the blade through the bony portion between the pelvic fins and up the base of the lower jaw. For now he was finished with the knife and settled it down on the counter. Slowly reaching inside the fish, Eoin searched for the section that connected the guts, pinching and pulling to reveal the innards. The liver and swim bladder escaped the removal, and so he scraped them out with the knife. The most difficult part came next, removing the gills. Scissors were best for this job, but the man did not want to waste time looking for the shears and used his knife instead. Then with a free hand, he removed the gills, setting them down beside his knife before heading over to the sink. The fish, now rinsed, was cut to form two fillets by slicing from a cut perpendicular to its body to its anal fin and its bones removed by lifting carefully with a sharper knife. The entire process took about seven chimes, long enough for Vala to be finished with the recipe if all went according to plan.

[Vala]

Normally she would have been surprised that an Avora chef would trust her with such a 'complicated' task. Usually the little Chiet would be relegated to menial fruit and veggie cutting or if they really needed the help, bread making. Vala was far too lost in her golem like state to notice the uncomfortable shortage of child labor. Sure she had never worked with actual heat related cooking, but honestly, how hard could melting butter be? Right? Vala was too tired to have an exaggerated reaction, she settled for an unconscious eyetwitch instead. Her hand was oddly steady as she dropped the golden butter into the hissing sauce pan. Vala began to stir the butter around. She had no idea what was the proper way to hold the spoon, she remembered watching someone just half a season ago, but that was all fuzzy now; turning to what she knew, Vala held the spoon like a quill, her lithe fingers adjusting to accommodate the larger shaft. Before she could forget, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember what he had said: Do not fold the mix, or lift the spoon or something about air bubbles would happen. She had no idea what he meant about folding the mix, but not lifting the spoon was easy enough; she turned her head, keeping her spoon in the pan, stirring slowly clockwise, to look at Eoin, to ask him what he meant. She opened her mouth, but closed it right back when she saw how furrowed his brow was in concentration. And in her sleep deprived state her normal level of perfectionist concern had dipped into a more moderate level of neediness, which she stifled and just pushed on with the simple task. Come on, you’re not that stupid. You can melt butter on your own… Encouraged a little voice in Vala’s head. Her hand shook a little, a nervous twitch, as she counted each slow and steady rotation. At sixty strokes, about a chime per say all the butter had melted until it was a simmering film of translucent gold. Vala removed the spoon and rested it to the side of the fire. Grabbing a nearby tablespoon with her right hand, she grabbed the half empty bag of flour, cradling it in her left arm. Vala gasped, panicking a little when she noticed the melted butter getting all bubbly. In her panic she got a little reckless and spilled a little flour on herself as she measured out the five. Without Eoin having to remind her, remembering from her days of making bread, Vala leveled out the tablespoonfuls before dumping it in the pan. At every nervous shake, she got a little of the white powder on her top. By the time she set the bag down back where she had found it, Vala’s jet black Vinati was almost all white – she didn’t care, too focused on the work before her. First it began kinda lumpy, which really made Vala’s heart race. She sped up her stirring, trying to spread out the flour to all the butter, not realizing she was going a little too fast and injecting a couple air bubbles. Once all the flour had been mostly absorbed, she finally calmed down enough to slow down her strokes again; looking at Eoin from the corner of her eye, Vala tried to make sure he hadn’t caught that. The distinct smell of fatty butter, wafted to Vala’s nose. She breathed in the scent, savoring the flavor, as if she was actually tasting it. It took about one hundred strokes for the sauce to thicken evenly. It should have taken forty less but Vala’s little freak out had exacerbated her motions. This time Vala was ready. Someone had already measured out the cups of milk for her, probably Eoin, so she didn’t have to rush and worry about ruining the current sauce when measuring. Keeping her right hand steadily stirring, Vala used her left hand to pour in the cups of creamy milk, finally grateful for her random quirk of practicing to become ambidextrous while shelving books at the Enclave. A little too quick with the first cup, Vala accidentally spilled a few drops to the side. The cool drops of liquid hissed as they evaporated in the open fire. She was sure to pour slower and calmer with the second cup. She set the cup down, switching the spoon to her left to give her aching hand a break, her improper ‘scribe’ grip the main cause of her muscle cramps. She continued to stir the now much too liquidly sauce, her strokes not as even with her unpracticed left hand. Her lips moved, no words coming out, as she counted silently, but by two hundred strokes, Vala gave up counting, and conceded to just eyeballing the thickness. It took another chime or a half until the sauce was almost us thick as Eoin wanted – of which Vala was still not quite sure. Turning her head again, she was met with Eoin’s gaze. It seems he had finished with his fish. Her nose crinkled a little as the smell of its innards hit her nose, momentarily not masked by the smell of her butter. “Is this what you wanted?” Vala’s voice came out quite silly as she tried not to breath in.

[Eoin]

The mixture wasn’t perfect, from a few tell tale bubbles to its thin consistency, but he did not expect much more for Vala’s first time through. The man had attempted to lower his standards over the years, but they were still at an unreasonable high compared to most. Thus, despite the more than adequate state of her work, Eoin began with criticisms first with little reward to spare. “There are a few air bubbles from adding the milk too quickly and the mixture is a bit thin. Leave it on for half a chime.” His eyes were fixated on inspecting the contents of her pan before drifting to the surrounding area, noting some of the spilt milk that did not evaporate. “Be careful not to waste anything.” Eoin added, finally ending his short bout of scrutiny. “If you could, please cut up some tomatoes.” His mind was much too preoccupied with the other meals to provide more instructions and further guidance, reverting back to a more direct pattern of speech. Then, before waiting to hear her answer, the man threw a frying pan on to the nearby flames and began to sauté the onions and garlic in oil. Stirring to even the pieces out, Eoin then moved over to Vala’s pan and did the same before lifting it from the flames, moving carefully toward the stockpot. A noticeably thicker substance poured lazily into the steaming pot, but he had no time to waste and scraped the rest off, stirring here and there before returning to the sizzling vegetables. They were a tad softer than he wanted, but it could not be helped that the quality had to suffer to fit in a large quantity of meals. To add to the sauce, Eoin sprinkled in some parsley, olives, tomatoes and wine and left it to simmer for a few chimes. He gave himself a short break to check on Vala’s status and the general state of the kitchens to see if anyone needed help. The girl seemed fine from what he saw at a glance, but to be sure he gave her a helpful tip. “Cut them into slices, stack them and then cut them into slices again to create diced tomatoes.” Then without so much as a look at Vala, he went off to a nearby chef who was balancing a few plates and meals precariously as she weaved through the aisles. Grabbing the clean dishes, Eoin placed them over on her work station as directed before returning to the sauce. This time it was at an appropriate consistency, hiding his previous blunder easily. He slid in the two fresh fillets, picking a few left over bone pieces as it sizzled quietly. Covering the pieces in the sauce, he went to check on the stockpot. With a practiced hand, the man blended the ingredients more evenly, though some of that had already been done with the lowered heat. Then, busy as a bee, he flew over to the fillets with a new plate in hand in that same brisk pace. Now a noticeable white, Eoin left the pieces on for another few seconds before pouring the contents of the pan cautiously onto the plate. Out of habit, he wiped the outer edges and threw on a piece of fresh parsley, carrying the meal out to the waiting customer. The man was engaged in conversation with who Eoin supposed was his hunting partner, as both were equipped with various weapons. They apparently did not bother to set aside their bows and arrows, opting to converse instead. Silently, he placed the meal on their table before moving away, not wishing to interrupt. Eoin had almost reached the kitchen before he noticed an older Dek woman picking up scraps of food at a nearby table. She was fair skinned with dark crimson hair and would’ve been considered a beauty if it were not for her sallow skin, haggard expression and dark rimmed eyes. She was trying her best to avoid detection as she picked each forgotten crumb off the floor, her soft green eyes looking milky as though she were in a trance. However, smelling like a latrine was not helping her case, the odor disrupting the nostrils of a nearby man. From the looks of his clothing he was only a Chiet, but he had the presence of an Endal. Not so much respectful, but grotesquely arrogant and self-important, he looked almost pleased to happen upon a chance to assert authority. A swift kick to the side and the drudge woman was down, a delicate hand clutching onto few bread crumbs as a villainous smile grew broad on the man’s face. Eoin could feel his lips form a taut line, eyebrows furrowing gently with disapproval. Fortunately, the man was finished with his meal and Eoin took this opportunity to move in between the two to retrieve the plate. As he did, he feigned anger for the drudge woman, dragging her aside by the arm to a corner of the kitchen. The plate was left on the ground beside his now crouched position, eyes staring into the woman’s darting gaze with a troubled expression. “Mother, why did you leave your room?”

[Vala]

Screw his air bubbles and thin mixture… Vala couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by his curt criticisms. She glared at the back of his head when he began sautéing his own business; she even stuck her tongue out for good measure. It wasn’t that Eoin was being rude, far from it, he was being a more than supportive teacher to a finicky student, it was just that Vala was way too sensitive for her own good. Still using her left hand to stir, Vala counted out the half of a chime via strokes, again. Once it looked a little thicker than what she had originally, Vala put the spoon to the side, and left the sauce pan filled with her to Eoin. Now cutting vegetables, or was it fruit, well that was music to her ears. Vala pounced upon the juicy red tomato to the side, grabbing the fairly sharp knife beside it. It wasn’t her favorite knife, but it was probably better than the one she usually used… but her thumb still looked for the little notch that she found comforting. Hesitating on her first cut, Vala accidentally squished the fresh tomato a little, from lack of speed, leaking some juices onto the counter. First she cut the fist size tomato in half. Then she placed the cut side down onto the counter. Just as she was about to cut them into slices of her own accord, from just habit, Eoin gave her more specific instruction. She had never diced anything before, but she just shrugged her shoulders, at least this new task was a lot more straightforward than ‘until thick’. Vala furrowed her brows, pursing her lips as Eoin walked off as soon as he was sure she heard him. She didn’t want to make it a big deal, but she kinda wished, deep down inside, that he would pay more attention to her, not even praise… just a little attention. All alone with her tomato, Vala attacked it with her knife, burning all her pent up frustration into each forceful hack. The aggressiveness of her motions and lack of precision left the pieces not only misshapen but also a little pulpy. A juicy tomato seed splattered right onto her cheek – she was such a messy cook – a physical proclamation to calm down. She slowed down her slices, making the last half of the tomato cubes a lot better looking, though taste was subjective. Once Vala finished with the first tomato she moved the pieces to the side with the blade of her knife, starting all over again with the second tomato, this time, with much better control, and less pent up anger. Eoin was still missing when Vala finished with her tomato task, leaving her to puff up her cheeks in mild confusion and impatience. Her head swiveled around, trying to look around the kitchen to find him. It was hard to stay focused with so much bustling going about, especially with the busier meal times coming up. She got side tracked as she watched one particularly sick looking Yasi cut up an onion. Vala cringed, remembering the Bendis she spent in the kitchens, relegated to the simple unwanted jobs like onion cutting. She couldn’t help but giggle in playful malice as a couple salty tears squeezed out of the boy’s dull blue eyes, running down his ashen cheeks. Vala shook her head, trying to get refocused, as she smiled, enjoying the boy’s mild suffering. It took Vala another five chimes or so to finally spot Eoin hiding out in a badly lit corner of the kitchen. She would be polite, especially after he had been so kind as to have offered her…wait… he just made her work, either way, she would be nice but she wouldn’t just stand around like an idiot waiting for the man to finish with his private rendezvous. Giving him a few more chimes, but spending some time cleaning up their station, wiping up her spills with a semi clean towel, Vala began walking to Eoin. It was only when she was just a few paces from the two that she finally saw Eoin’s mother, first noticing her shifting green gaze and tattered robes. She was a Dek no doubt, a broken one at that. Vala couldn’t help but recoil at the sight, wondering why Eoin would still associate with such a foul creature, especially in a public place. And Vala was too naïve to even consider the kind of things people of his caste did with the people of her caste to even be a possibility. Doing her best not to bring her hand to her face, in an attempt not to appear rude, Vala spoke out softly, too late to stop herself. “Excuse me Eoin, ma’am… but uh… Eoin?” Vala stuttered, unsure of how to handle the situation.

[Eoin]

Eoin’s gaze grew dim as he reluctantly pulled away from those familiar green eyes, his own appearing cloudy as looked up toward Vala. He had forgotten about her almost entirely, as he would with any other so long as the miasma of oblivion emanated from his mother’s ghastly flesh. She brought about only misery, but he could not find it in himself to leave her, as even a woman as resilient as she would quickly fall victim to disease or the poison of a Symenestran child. Here she was in all her horrific glory, looking more beast than human. Upon closer inspect, the skin of her lips seem to crumble, as though they were dusted with coconut. Her eyes and cheeks were so sunken that she could’ve been mistaken for a banshee. Though she was strong compared to the frail appearance of her thinning arms and legs, one hand was obsolete as it was charred beyond repair. The other, the right hand, seemed to mock its sister with its feminine beauty and grace. Sometimes, if one were to pass by the latrines on certain days, one could hear Deks and Endals alike mocking the “One Handed Witch”. He had a strange sort of look on his face, almost bittersweet yet reflective, as though he were contemplating the world’s mysteries. It was far too otherworldly for him, and that it was, for in reality he was only a tad dreamier in the eyes and loose in the lips. “I apologize for leaving; I was taking care of some business.” He was a private man, and so he kept his mother’s identity and their personal relationship in the dark. “Please give me a moment.” Eoin met Vala’s gaze with distracted eyes, before turning to his mother. There were already the beginnings of perspiration on his forehead, already feeling the weight of his mind and heart in ten folds. The walls around him were closing in quickly, the inevitable sensation of desperation biting at his heels. There was nothing to it on the surface, addressing another person, persuading them perhaps, communication shouldn’t be so difficult. But that was with a human, and human was not what he was dealing with. “Shh…Mother…Look at me.” Eoin almost cooed, if a person as rigid as he could. It sounded more like a flat attempt to calm an infant, just before the child would scream and cry. He pressed his lips together, finding it more difficult than usual with an audience and a time limit on his mind. “If you go back to cleaning the latrines, you’ll get an apple slice.” Instantly, the broken figure creaked to life, peering at her son with that same murky look. She understood, but in what time frame? At times she would sit for hours before moving, but once she did there was no stopping her but her body’s exhaustion. That was a similarity between the two, though Eoin was unwilling to admit to any. Luckily for him, she seemed to realize the immediate nature of his words, slowly dragging her body and willing it to move. He began to relax a few muscles, still unaware of the dewy look of his forehead as he shifted away, giving the witch space lest she fall out of her trance. But he thought too soon. Rather than hobble over to the exit, she instead lunged toward Vala with wild eyes, her lips spilling incoherent mumblings. Her burnt hand attempted to touch the girl’s face, the other holding onto her shoulder for support. It was such a quick and unexpected action from such a sickly creature that she went nearly a hair’s width from the Chiet cheek, her overpowering stench smelling of waste and rot. At this distance, one could make out the babbling to be words, one word actually. “Noellenoellenoellenoellenoelle....” Her voice varied in force, accenting random syllables here and there but remained that same, droning intonation. Eoin was slow to react, completely caught off guard by her daring actions. He had seen her outbursts a few times, but never had she been so intimate yet complacent with a stranger. Typically she would yell insults from afar, until either he somehow shut her up or she grew tired of whatever game she was playing. He followed as quick as he could, pulling the woman back with evident strength in comparison. As she struggled to grasp the girl’s body, tears spilled from her eyes, her voice watering desperately. She was still ranting as her fingers left the girl’s skin, but it was fading in volume. Eoin blurted out a quick, “I’m so sorry,” appearing a great deal more regretful than necessary before forcing his mother to follow as he dragged her out of the kitchen, her haunting eyes still fixed on Vala’s face.

[Vala]

Vala crossed her arms, squeezing her thin biceps tightly. She wanted to express her frustration to Eoin but she refused to tap her foot or twirl her hair; no self respecting Endal or Avora fidgeted. Whatever Eoin was doing with the dirty Dek, Vala wished he would be more professional and get it taken care of outside of his shift. She was a volunteer after all. She was doing him a favor by helping out… she could be… or she could… yeah never mind, her life was pretty boring at the moment. Normally she would try to spy on Eoin’s business, and observe the woman, but she was just so god forsaken repulsive, Vala couldn’t even bear to look at the Dek for anymore than ten seconds without physically gagging. Her shoulders hunched as she angled her body away, boring a hole in the ground with her dead pan gaze, avoiding the pair while they talked whatever out. Just as thoughts of visiting Val Imsun began swimming in Vala’s head, she was rudely interrupted by an unexpected banshee attack. “OH DEAR PRISKIL!” Vala gasped in pain, not from Eoin’s mother’s death grip on her shoulder, but just the sight of the deformed, charred hand so close to her cheek. It was barely a hair span away, she could feel it, just brushing up against her precious skin, the dirty, dirty, disgusting, infected thing brushing up against her! And whatever the woman was saying, Vala couldn’t hear over the pulsating, deafening roar of her heart in her ears. Even her breathing seemed to come in sharp desperate gasps, nearly three sharp inhales in less than a second. Already weakened by sleep deprivation and an accumulation of two days worth of stress, Vala was no match for the stench of rot that cruelly assaulted her nose, exacerbated further by her hyperventilation. She made a valiant effort, but Vala was passed out in ten seconds flat. Her eyes rolled back, her sightless gaze a cloudy white, while her mouth fell open, slack. Her already ashen face drained of any remaining blood, giving her the same unhealthy sallowness that Eoin’s mother had. The only thing keeping Vala up now was the woman’s desperate, skeletal grasp, just refusing against all odds to give up, for reasons unknown. Barely a moment after Eoin finally ripped his mother off poor Vala, she fell to the ground like a rock. Her lithe body crashed into a boneless heap of flour spotted black, with wild, crimson locks getting tangled everywhere. Her one respite was that she was too unconscious to tense up her muscles, preventing too much injury from occurring. Eoin, too occupied with handling his mother, was unable to catch her slip, before it was too late. Even if he had noticed, he wouldn’t have been able to help, seeing as his hands were preoccupied with the more dangerous of the two women, well the more dangerous one at the moment. Once Vala regained her strength, well only heaven knows what could happen to the poor Dek that now made Vala’s ‘list’. Unfortunately for Vala, she was left there, in the shaded, dusty corner, as most of the kitchen staff was far too preoccupied with an oven fire, in the other corner, gone errant. No one spotted the Dek’s tantrum, or Vala’s fall. Even Chef Davoid, who could easily keep up with everything going on in her kitchens, no problem, found herself fully absorbed in an all out yell fest with the clumsy chefs who had nearly gotten others burnt. It took Vala a couple chimes to stir. Her first movement was a sudden and violent twitch of her head, nearly spraining her neck. When she first opened her eyes, she closed them right back up, the floor and wall still spinning too sadistically for her taste. When she finally felt like she was getting settled she raised her head, opening her bleary eyes, just in time to catch Eoin dragging the reluctant woman out of the kitchen. Barely able to support her weight, Vala precariously leaned on her elbows, unsure if she should run after Eoin – for a reason she had yet to determine – or just stay and wallow on the ground until someone helped her up. Either way, she found herself crying from exhaustion and irritation. Her body hurt, her heart hurt, her head hurt – all of which was associated with that bloody Avora, Eoin!

[Eoin]

Eoin was unnerved, not only by the misfortune he had once again brought upon Vala, but by his mother's sudden silence. After being pulled away from the girl, she emitted not a sound or breath, as though she were falling into hibernation. Then that same, troubling thought resurfaced and he was left frozen, the knots in his chest growing in strength, enough to cause a physical ache. She was limp in his hand, no fight left in her as she hung from his hands like a ragdoll. There wasn't much he could do for her now, for when she returned to this cocoon like state she would be completely unresponsive to stimuli. Rather than leave her at the latrines where she would undoubtedly be harassed and assaulted by Inartans angered by her current state, assuming it to be silent defiance, his room was the safer choice. Eoin wasn't so pleased at the conclusion he came to, having to leave the kitchens and Vala for that much longer, but he wasn't just about to leave this woman in harm's way. Hopefully the Chef would not count yet another sudden absence against him, for that would be the worst consequence imaginable to the aspiring chef. To say he valued her opinion of him was an understatement, for Chef Davoid was nothing less of a hero to Eoin. Wishing to return as quickly as possible, his hand reached under the drudge's knees and lifted her easily, her light weight bearing little resistance against his efficient and steady strides. Still, his footfalls were heavy with concern and arms tense with stress, as worry accumulated upon worry, strength seeped steadily from his fingertips. It was but a few chimes before he reached his humble abode, a modestly dressed room with few possessions. Traversing the barely habited area, he gently placed her body onto the bed before pulling the sheets up to her shoulders. As he did, he found a few dirtied cuts on her arms and hands, grime gleaming menacingly amongst crimson. Realizing this might be the only chance he'd have to clean the wounds, Eoin fetched the waterskin that hung on the nearby wall and the cloth on the table. Though she'd be unlikely to wake from her slumber, he carefully washed each cut by lightly scrubbing with the cloth. All the while, a placid gaze was fixed on to her now half lidded eyes, his expression tight lipped. The putrid scent of her skin was diminished under the covers, and for a moment he almost thought she looked startlingly familiar, as if looking into a reflection. Eoin hesitated, but then moved away carefully, his pallor growing pale. He was parched, he needed water. On the nearby table was his waterskin, always filled in the mornings by the early riser. Uncapping the top, Eoin brought it to his lips, spilling a little on his chin from the shaking water. Annoyed, he wiped hurriedly with the back of the hand before swallowing a large gulp, exhaling audibly from his mouth. He rested his wrist on the table with the waterskin in hand, hovering over the surface awkwardly. "If there was ever any doubt..." He murmured, finding the need to verbalize a thought. Then, realizing that there was no further need for the waterskin, he returned it to the table. Eoin hadn't forgotten about the kitchens, about Vala, but for the moment he wished to rest, just...a breather that's all. He placed both hands on the smooth stone surface, finding some semblance of relief from its cool feel. His shoulders were hunched and despite his age, Eoin felt haggard and so, so tired. All he wanted was sleep, peace and tranquility for his mind. He wasn't sure when he began to move once more, each finger leaving the stone table with as much grace as artist's hand, but the man was undoubtedbly sure an angry Chiet awaited his return. If, that is, she was still waiting for him. And with that unsettling thought, Eoin took his leave, not sparing a glance as he passed through the door.