AESIOR OPHELES
✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go
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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.
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.
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THE FLOWER BURNS