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+---- Thread: misadventures in baking (/showthread.php?tid=11904)
misadventures in baking - Grimm - 05-17-2020
[div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; width: 60%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Beneath the quiet wandering of curled crescent tips frayed thread resisted for but moments, sodden the wet strands of faux skin. Though placed beneath the dying illumination of dwindling afternoon still did moisture cling, soaked the inner stuffing mixed with loose fragments of fabric, loose the hold of singular gladden eye. Salt was all they detected when against chilled nose did they press their own, the faint memories of him delicately held. Interrupted a scene of quiet familiarity, an affection given when their body refused to listen.
Michael.
None may dispute the apparent connection present between their mother and the thief, similarities spanning the divide that once had stood in their way. Along their spine traced the chilled finger of a shiver, the ocean washed bear fixed firmly within their aching jaws. Everything ached. Loose the manner limp wings hung against their sides, jostled with each slow step drawing them through the unfamiliar halls of the temporary residence. There was no destination in mind at first, the mere freedom of their uninterrupted midnight stroll enough to quell the dark waves of their dreary thoughts.
At least, in those first ten or so minutes it was enough. Upon stories may they base their assumptions about the structure they came to an uneasy halt before, the debris that once decorated the cobble lined paths before the tavern cleared. Largely untouched had it gone in the grand scheme of all that had occurred, though gaping maws the windows that had lost their glass. Old hinges groaned as they pushed against the door, the darkness of the empty tavern meeting widened eyes.
Those who wandered the streets bathed in chilled silver light may find the darkness cut by flickering candlelight, a broken hum painting the still air. Beneath a clatter may be heard, cutlery and pans striking the wooden surface of the scarred bartop, a mess created as they went about their work. Or at least, they viewed their poor baking attempts as such, the loose eye of Osito watching over them.
[align=center]---
Michael.
None may dispute the apparent connection present between their mother and the thief, similarities spanning the divide that once had stood in their way. Along their spine traced the chilled finger of a shiver, the ocean washed bear fixed firmly within their aching jaws. Everything ached. Loose the manner limp wings hung against their sides, jostled with each slow step drawing them through the unfamiliar halls of the temporary residence. There was no destination in mind at first, the mere freedom of their uninterrupted midnight stroll enough to quell the dark waves of their dreary thoughts.
At least, in those first ten or so minutes it was enough. Upon stories may they base their assumptions about the structure they came to an uneasy halt before, the debris that once decorated the cobble lined paths before the tavern cleared. Largely untouched had it gone in the grand scheme of all that had occurred, though gaping maws the windows that had lost their glass. Old hinges groaned as they pushed against the door, the darkness of the empty tavern meeting widened eyes.
Those who wandered the streets bathed in chilled silver light may find the darkness cut by flickering candlelight, a broken hum painting the still air. Beneath a clatter may be heard, cutlery and pans striking the wooden surface of the scarred bartop, a mess created as they went about their work. Or at least, they viewed their poor baking attempts as such, the loose eye of Osito watching over them.
[align=center]---
Come morning a sight to behold was the interior of the tavern.
Though cleaned as best as was possible the surface of the bar was strewn with various utensils, bowls covered in dry batter with more splattered about them. Batches of lumpy frosting was also set among the mess, trays of half baked cupcakes that had dripped over the sides set to one side. Among it all, though not perfect, at least edible the two set side by side.
Within a pale pink wrapper with white hearts a red velvet cupcake topped with a messy swirl of cream cheese frosting, multi-hued star sprinkles surrounding a single dark cherry. The other was more simple, a golden wrapper holding a vanilla cupcake topped with similar icing, yet this bore a yellow gumdrop and golden sprinkles. Before them sat little place cards, the handwriting a rather atrocious scrawl but it at least made clear who the treats were for.
As for Eulia to the benches pushed against the wall was all one needed to look, the child a light point against the dark wood. Tightly had they curled about the patchwork bear in the depths of their sleep, two others settled near at hand, seemingly at peace in the depths of their slumber.
[member=901]ROXANNE R.[/member] [member=11389]michael t.[/member]
Re: misadventures in baking - michael t. - 05-18-2020
Michael found his relationship with Eulia to be... complicated. On one hand, the girl was family, and he loved his nieces and nephews more than anyone else in the world. On the other hand, she had a tendency to be quite timid around certain people, and the bobcat honestly wasn't sure if she even liked him. Still, whether she liked him or not, he had sworn to himself that he would protect the new family that he had found within the Typhoon, and he wasn't keen on breaking anymore promises after he had "died" on Trevor. Even with all of that being true, Michael still wished, deep down inside, that he knew what Lu thought of him. Was he a good uncle? Did she enjoy his company and find his presence comforting, or was he just some stranger posing as her family to her? The thought of it being the latter made his heart sink, but at least then he would've known he had to work even harder to make sure she knew she could trust him. He didn't want anything touching a hair on her head, especially after the Ry incident, and the horror that had come along with the meteor strike. He was hardly in the position to play the intimidating one right now, given his concussion – and he really wasn't all that intimidating in general, but that was a conversation for another day – but he wouldn't back down from threats just because he was injured.
The privateer had honestly been spending most of his time these days at home, curled up in bed with his rats and his boyfriend nearby, just trying to rest and recuperate after everything that had happened. However, he had gradually been beginning to head out once again, wandering around to interact with others and help rebuild when it was needed. This was why he had eventually found himself at the tavern, intrigued by the silence that echoed throughout the large building that morning. He was used to the daily drunks beginning to wake up and head back in for another round, but this time? Nothing. Curiosity piqued, Michael gently pushed the front doors open, slipping inside and glancing around with his mismatched gaze. He caught sight of Eulia first, his eyes widening slightly before softening at the picture of his niece wrapped tightly around her patchwork companion. His eyes then trailed over to the bar, taking in the disaster area that had been made of it all. Padding over to where the cupcakes were, he glanced at the messy labels before he felt a wave of happiness flood over him. There, scrawled in childish handwriting, was his name, sat beside Roxanne's and in front of a surprisingly delicious looking vanilla cupcake.
Feeling a sense of happy warmth inside, Michael left his cupcake for the moment. Moving over to where Eulia was resting peacefully, he leaned down to touch his nose to her ear, mumbling softly, "Thank you, Lu..." He didn't really wanna wake her up, and he was sure he would give her another thanks once she was conscious, but it felt necessary to thank her right away, at least once.
The privateer had honestly been spending most of his time these days at home, curled up in bed with his rats and his boyfriend nearby, just trying to rest and recuperate after everything that had happened. However, he had gradually been beginning to head out once again, wandering around to interact with others and help rebuild when it was needed. This was why he had eventually found himself at the tavern, intrigued by the silence that echoed throughout the large building that morning. He was used to the daily drunks beginning to wake up and head back in for another round, but this time? Nothing. Curiosity piqued, Michael gently pushed the front doors open, slipping inside and glancing around with his mismatched gaze. He caught sight of Eulia first, his eyes widening slightly before softening at the picture of his niece wrapped tightly around her patchwork companion. His eyes then trailed over to the bar, taking in the disaster area that had been made of it all. Padding over to where the cupcakes were, he glanced at the messy labels before he felt a wave of happiness flood over him. There, scrawled in childish handwriting, was his name, sat beside Roxanne's and in front of a surprisingly delicious looking vanilla cupcake.
Feeling a sense of happy warmth inside, Michael left his cupcake for the moment. Moving over to where Eulia was resting peacefully, he leaned down to touch his nose to her ear, mumbling softly, "Thank you, Lu..." He didn't really wanna wake her up, and he was sure he would give her another thanks once she was conscious, but it felt necessary to thank her right away, at least once.
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow] ![[Image: Sx2KbYd.png]](https://i.imgur.com/Sx2KbYd.png)