you just look right in my eyes ⚘ c(o)mfort baking (GE)

[aesior]

AESIOR OPHELES

✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go

space

takes place before he leaves! //

His evening hadn't even begun before it was over. The voices were back and driving him from his nest, madness in his mind. He wanted to be rid of these damn ghosts. It wasn't even anywhere near time for him to be harvesting their souls. He didn't know anyone aside from Lorelei or Cleopatra who might be able to help him, and well, he wasn't fond of Cleopatra and though he enjoyed Lorelei, he didn't want to bother her with his issues.

Exhale passing through his nose, he stood up from his nest with a rub of his eyes, stretching as he left his den for the outskirts of camp, a bag held in his mouth. He didn't know of any other place for a good sheltered fire aside from his own forge, and so, his path would take him towards the river. There rested his forge, empty of fire for the time being. Reaching it, he set down his bag and set to work on gathering g dry materials from around to place within the stone center of his forge. He might regret this the next day but he needed to do something and baking was an easy thing, a comfort thing really. Lighting the fire with his firestriker, he would yawn as he worked it into a comfortable blaze, setting about his work.

He'd recently traded for banana leaves, a trade he was going to make use of now. The dough he would eventually make would be placed within before being folded and put into the coals. Other doughs and pastries could be made with the heat from the fire, but there were few he would want to directly expose to raging heat. Setting to work on opening his bag on his work table, the tabby tom would begin to create a dough with his paws, humming a song within his mind. He wanted bread from this dough, at least thats what he told himself and quickly became lost in the motions of working the dough into a mix, tail faintly flicking behind him as he worked, adding what he needed as he went along before finally resting the dough blobs onto the counter. Faintly kneading at the edge of his work table, frown upon face lit by dying fire. Embers were what he wanted for this, and well, fire was easy to kick up from embers.

Gazing about, he found himself a few sticks, letting his dough rise as he sat there to whittle away at the sticks with a knife from his tool set. Dipping the ends in flame to sterilize them, he set them aside, curling up on the ground not far from the forge, feeling the heat against his short fur with a pleased expression, eyes closed as he enjoyed himself. Finally after a short rest, he would get back to his paws, returning to his work bench to debate on what else he could make. Deciding on a loaf of bread, he would once again collect his many ingredients, searching around. He didn't have anything resembling a Dutch oven from his human life long ago, but he did have some form of a bucket. That would work well enough, though the bread might later turn out harder or darker than meant.

Continuing his work with an eased sigh, he would debate on the creation of cookies, a frown soft on his face as he found some shallow creation in which to make that batter. The stone of the forge would have to do - he didn't have a flat sheet of metal he could put them on. Much of this was a curious attempt to further his knowledge, but mostly to comfort himself from the recently violent nightmares that were plaguing him, and the run-in with Damion that brought back horrible memories. Deciding on shortbread as he worked, making haphazard shapes as he carried the oddly shaped tin to the forge, shaking out shapes to form into the cookies later.

space

✯ — MALE. THE GOLDEN EYE. MEDIUM DIFFICULTY. REF. LANGUAGE GUIDE. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[FRAGGLEROCK.]

Baking was not something that Fraggle had done before, but it certainly fascinated him. Or rather, the scent it produced certainly fascinated him. The first and most obvious scent was the burning of the forge, but it was quickly followed up by something else. Something even more pleasant. Something sweet, and tempting even to the young herbivore. The sweet smell of the dough was what finally dragged him over, although it didn't really have to try all that hard. Just the smell of the forge being fired up was enough to initially pique the boy's curiosity, wondering what Aesior was doing. He wasn't aware of the unpleasant experiences that the other had gone through recently – which was probably a good thing, given how worried he'd be. Either way, he'd want to help out with whatever Aesior had in mind, liking both being helpful and being near Aesior. It wouldn't be much of a surprise to know that Aesior was almost like a father figure in Fraggle's mind, and every second spent with the other was another second away from unpleasantness. Said unpleasantness was usually Cleopatra, or another member of The Golden Eye that saw him as nothing more than a piece of meat.

That particular thought brought a frown to Fraggle's face as he hopped along, a short huff leaving his lungs. He didn't deserve to be treated that way, and he knew it, but there wasn't exactly much he could do about it. It was really just a lost cause... oh. The rabbit's attention was swiftly torn away from his grumbling when he arrived at the forge, and saw what Aesior was doing. It took him a moment to fully process what was going on, considering he had never seen the actual process of baking before. Still, he had seen fully baked breads and cookies before, so he knew about the end result. Immediately he found his fluffy tail twitching behind him, a grin on his muzzle as he spoke, "Aesior? Are you... uh... I'm not exactly sure what it's called." It probably should've been obvious, considering things like cookies and bread were classified as baked goods. Fragglerock was still a child, though, and he was learning new things every day. Baking was unfortunately just not a word that had reached his vocabulary just yet. It probably wouldn't be too long until it did, though, considering his efforts to learn how to read in order to communicate better with Aesior.

Making his way a bit closer to where Aesior stood, Fraggle made sure to leave a bit of distance between himself and the forge. He knew it would be a horrible idea to try and touch it, and he didn't exactly want to end up with any singed fur, or feathers. Instead, he peeked at the "cookies" that Aesior had shaped, quickly biting his tongue to keep from laughing. Despite his efforts, a few stray giggles still managed to leave him, swiftly silenced afterwards by one of his paws. He shot an apologetic look in Aesior's direction, muttering with a little smile, "Sorry! I shouldn't laugh. Your cookies just have a very... unique shape." He supposed the shape of them really didn't matter, at least in the long run. What did actually matter was how they tasted, and Fragglerock was eager to find that out if he was given the chance. While he spent most of his time chowing down on different types of plants and vegetables, he was sure that one or two cookies couldn't hurt. After all, just the dough smelled obscenely good, and he was sure they'd smell even better as they cooked. The thought was almost enough to make one of his feet thump against the ground – almost. He didn't really want to embarrass himself today.

[glow=#4c2c1c,2,300]YOU CAN WRAP MY BRAIN IN PLASTIC[/glow]

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 7.5pt; max-width: 400px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Too few, and with an ever expanding frame of time separating each fleeting instance, the nights during which he found any measure of rest. Dogged the pursuit of a foul twist, a landscape once light and bountiful grown savage, a hunger in threads pulled apart, unravelling until his mind might only cling to a fraying string. Once he thought himself capable, weathered each for the meagre reprieve of rest, his resolve worn down to nothing.

Still he could hear it, a dull sound ringing in his ears, the crackle and sputter of flames as it consumed all it may reach, the dwindling cries, insults hurled at his feet as they burned. Worst of all was he knew none of the faces, these people that felt so important. Within the moment their names adorned his tongue, rested there like a leaden weight, never allowed to rise. He knew their faces, how important each was, wanted to call for them. Upon waking they were strangers eaten by flame.

Cool still the scraped together material that was in dire need of removal, his presence lacking, had been for the better part of the day. He needed some space. All that was offered when those few came across him upon his traversal of the land, destination lacking, walking simply for it was something he was capable of, his mind fixated on how the landscape opened before him. The downside present in the flow of time, ceaseless the trickle of grains that could not be halted by mere whim, the descent of the sun marked by reluctant acceptance. Difficult had it grown to truly determine the length he had traversed, thoughtless in a meandering that had offered a respite taken as the darkness enveloped, the ache enough to tell it was too far.

Bright the contained flames, a flickering beacon, equal his pleasant hope and dawning horror. He knew that which Aesior had created, enjoyed the flames built within it alongside him and Arlo, still his mind reached and conjured a darker cause. Closer Vincent moved, drawn by a desire to prove himself wrong, wished anything but that his mind drew forth. Stifled the sigh of relief that rose to his lips as his vision settled once more on the stone fixture, again occupied by contained flames. It was no simple fire put upon this occasion, confusion growing as he made note of that present about and within.

Faces present that bring forth smile, curbed the growth even as edge curls ever slightly, away wiped as his mouth parted, yawn hidden behind lifted paw. The idea of continuing was put aside, within the shifting perimeter of light he walked, silent though his breath hitched and rolled, his descent no less soundless. Slow was it, legs folding in deliberate fashion though messy was his position still, exhaustion evident in eyes that roved over the baking treats. "I never took you for a baker." Soft his voice as Vincent spoke, barely suppressed a snicker at the comment Fraggle put forth. Indeed, strange the shape of some, but such was hard to fix when one had to work with paws that lacked the extensive dexterity and ability of hands.

[aesior]

AESIOR OPHELES

✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go

space

Warm and content came the puff of breath from grim, his gaze taking in fraggle as he joined him at his forge. Looking around, his lips turned into a frown - he had a lack of paper, and so there was no easy way to communicate. Hesitating as he sat upon his haunches, gaze flitting to the sticks and uncooked dough. He gave a gentle smile, nodding to fraggle. He couldn't speak the word and the child didn't know the word, but he did have an understanding of the situation, or at least that he was attempting baking. Picking up a stick, he carried it back to the table where he rolled out the dough in a long strip before wrapping it about the stick and carrying it to the fire, to rest against the stone wall and hover above a coal. Making a motion  to Fraggle, he would rotate his paw, indicating the stick would need to be turned. It wasn't much, but it included the child in the process of baking.

Head lifting as he heard Vincent's breathing, concern in the glance he showed the other, wondering if he had any honey. He'd keep an eye on Vincent's breathing - it was a small thing of concern and winter was well past but sickness could strike at any given point. Offering him a warm and friendly smile as he nodded his head to one of the other sticks, preparing one for Vincent before one for himself. He didn't mind the laughter at the shapes constructed upon the stone, he rather enjoyed the jovial sound. Pleasant his smile as he settled down with his own stick trapped under a paw, shaking his head with a wave of his paw to chase off notions of the laughter being rude.

He could admit the cookies were odd, but he hoped that they would taste as good as he remembered. He hadn't baked in a while, at least not over an open fire, or its coals. It had at one time been in an old wood burning stove, when his children had been young, before their abandonment. Eyes sliding to half closed as he rested, occasionally sniffing the air or moving to get up to check on the dough wrapped in leaves and within the bucket, his gaze excited. Nearly forgetting his stickbread, he would rotate it with an embarrassed tail curl. Easy was the companionship of the other two, comfortable to relax within, and a presence eagerly held in his mind. Faint now were the lingering tendrils of nightmares, chased off by friendly companionship and the light atmosphere.

space

✯ — MALE. THE GOLDEN EYE. MEDIUM DIFFICULTY. REF. LANGUAGE GUIDE. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[FRAGGLEROCK.]

As Vincent joined the two of them near the forge room, Fraggle glanced over and offered him a cheerful smile, bright and welcoming. He was glad to see the other, just as he often was to see most of his other groupmates. He couldn't really think of any he disliked seeing, with the obvious exception being Cleo. Still, he probably wouldn't mind her presence as much if she didn't constant mention eating him, or vaguely threatening him in some way. By comparison, Vincent offered the same feeling of safety and comfort that Arlo and Aesior did for the boy, although to a slightly lesser extent. While he considered Arlo and Aesior to be like fathers, he considered Vincent to be like a sort of kindhearted, quiet uncle.

The rabbit's attention was pulled away from Vincent when Aesior nodded once more, moving over and grabbing a stick, as well. As some dough. Initially, Fragglerock was confused by what was being asked of him. What was dough on a stick meant to accomplish. However, as Aesior gestured for him to come over and help out, he was eager to do so. He hopped over to the fire and coals, finding himself with a surprising lack of fear in the face of them. Despire his small stature, fire and flames had never really filled him with fear or anxiety – although he wasn't really sure why. Had fire also been a comfort to him, in the months of his memory that were now lost to time? He found himself vaguely wondering about it as his paws gripped the end of the stick, gradually turning the dough as it was slowly baked. Even this early the scent of it was enough to make his mouth water, although he tried his best to exercise some self control. It wouldn't be good for him to try and chow down on some half baked dough and end up burning himself, after all.

The boy would move back whenever Aesior came to turn the stick bread himself, blue eyes briefly scanning over the feline as he did so. Although Fraggle didn't really know the circumstances of why Aesior had chosen to bake right this second, he didn't really need to. As long as his and Vincent's presences helped the other feel some sense of companionship or comfort, that was really more than enough for the young rabbit to be happy. In fact, he found his short tail twitching happily behind him, offering a similarly warm grin in Aesior's direction whenever the other glanced over. Before long, he found himself talking, mainly just to fill the air. He felt the need to be a driving force in the presence of both Aesior and Vincent, considering both of the older Golden Eye members were so quiet all the time. So, he found himself musing aloud, head tilting to one side, "You know... I've never done anything like this before, I don't think. Still, it's really fun! Everything smells so nice, and it keeps your paws occupied... I think I'd like to learn a little bit more about it in the future. You wouldn't mind teaching me, right Aesior?" He glanced up at the other, not really expecting any kind of negative response. Aesior was always so kind to him, and the other always seemed eager to help out or teach him things, even if his muteness made it a little harder for them to communicate.

[glow=#4c2c1c,2,300]YOU CAN WRAP MY BRAIN IN PLASTIC[/glow]

[aesior]

AESIOR OPHELES

✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go

space

The motions were ingrained in him, finding some sort of enjoyment in this quiet peace, his eyes barely open until he had to move to check on the baked goods. Taking one of the flat pieces of metal he owned, he would gently poke the edges under the cookies, peeking under them to check their progress before letting them down. They still needed some more time.

Checking on the wrapped breads, he would hum as he enjoyed himself before pulling them off the coals when necessary with a pair of metal tongs, setting the pot to cool on the sandy ground. He shook his head at Fraggle's question, he'd be more than happy to teach him how to bake. Turning his own stick he would watch quietly as it turned s nice golden before gently prodding it with a claw, checking the status of the dough inside before letting it turn some more.

space

✯ — MALE. THE GOLDEN EYE. MEDIUM DIFFICULTY. REF. LANGUAGE GUIDE. — ✯

#psychosocial.