|
Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 0:34:33 GMT
Kara looked down at the grater, then back at Dhaunmyr, watching attentively as he rubbed it against the outside of the orange and ground up the peel.
Kara nodded. She took the grater from Dhaunmyr, and slowly and very carefully scraped it against the orange, so lightly that not more than a single bit of peel emerged. Kara scowled. She pressed a fraction harder the next time, and took off – perhaps – a tiny fraction more. Slowly, Kara increased her strength again – and again – and again – until she made a massive shove of the grater and promptly slashed open the knuckles of the hand holding the orange.
Kara yelped and dropped both orange and grater, looking down wide-eyed at her bleeding hand. She scowled at Dhaunmyr.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 19, 2019 1:09:54 GMT
Dhaunmyr just sort of stared. How could you do anything so... wrong?
“Hi, Kara, um. What? What am I supposed to do? How did you —?” Dhaunmyr took her hand, then winced. It was slight, but he was paler. Clean it? Yes. Wash off the blood. Get it off. Okay.
So that’s what he did. Cold water from the tap, he sort of forgot Kara was attached to her hand, he just yanked her over to it. Drifting off, wordlessly, Dhaunmyr quickly returned to Kara with a towel, and bandages.
“In... my defence... I didn’t make you fist the grater.” Dhaunmyr shrugged, then he laughed, although he was trying his best not to. “I didn’t mean to- PUNCH- fist-fi- I meant... to say...”
“Punch.”
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 1:23:56 GMT
Kara jerked her hand back away from Dhaunmyr, or tried to – but he was, as she had learned before, surprisingly strong, and he yanked her very forcefully to the tap. Kara scowled, running it over her hand, and frowned at Dhaunmyr when he returned with the bandages.
Kara stared at him. The innuendo didn’t occur to her, then she made a face, then – once Dhaunmyr started laughing, her face softened, and she turned to the side, hiding a smile from him. It didn’t hurt much, in truth, although it was surprisingly painful for such small sounds. Kara turned the tap off and took the bandages, making pads for the injured knuckles and wrapping longer strips around her hand, careful to do it so she’d still be able to use the hand.
Kara took the grater to the tap and washed it clean as well, using soap to remove any traces of blood – or skin.
Then, with a determined frown on her face, Kara marched back to the oranges. She picked up the second one, gripped it firmly in her injured hand, pressed the grater down with a medium amount of force, and pressed back and forth. Small flakes of orange skin dropped to the board below, and Kara slowly, slowly turned it, carefully and precisely grating off only the orange bits, leaving a surprisingly neat looking white part behind.
Once she’d taken off the peel from half of it – an excruciatingly long process, but one that resulted in a near-perfect remaining orange – Kara carefully got a knife from the drawer, and cut both oranges in half.
At least, doing that, she didn’t hurt herself. Or fist anything.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 19, 2019 16:21:09 GMT
Dhaunmyr only slowly worked at his own station, he decided it was far more important to make sure that Kara didn’t split anything else open. But she seemed to have gotten it, just one mistake and she knew what she was doing. How many mistakes had Dhaunmyr made before he was even... okay... at things? The fact that he was basically barely as good at some things as Kara and he was more than double her age was... difficult. Especially when he’d been brought up to more or less view humans as worthless.
He pulled a bowl out of a cupboard, slowly, sort of trying to bring attention, like, hey, the bowls live here I think for now, if you’re cool with that. But you should know that, so you can get bowls out. Or something.
More rummaging, a jar of sugar. He spooned some in the bowl, then, a few spoons of a dark liquid. He stared at it for a moment, visualising the actual recipe. Dhaunmyr hadn’t made this before, but he’d read it lots of times, over and over, memorising everything. He had a ginger root in his hands, he cut some fairly finely, and that was in too. Then the juice of the oranges, and the zest, oh, and the garlic. Was that everything? Probably. No. He poured a little from another small bottle in there, and, then he was done, and mixing it around.
Then he stared at the package he’d thrown over — there and sighed.
“Okay, I need you to... open that up. And. Just cut it into... chunks. This big? Maybe? Just do what looks right and I don’t want to see it or touch it or-“ Dhaunmyr just kind of flapped his hands around his face. “It won’t be terrible, come on.” He coaxed himself. It didn’t look or smell or taste anything like—
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 17:16:51 GMT
Kara didn’t seem to notice Dhaunmyr’s careful performative dance with the bowl; what looked like the absolute entirety of her energy and focus was directed on the orange at that point. She cut it in half so carefully that, honestly, it looked like she had measured it first, lining up the knife and bringing it down in a smooth, even stroke. Kara couldn’t cook – she wouldn’t dare try or claim it as a skill of hers – but cutting she was pretty good at.
Kara looked up when Dhaunmyr sighed, although only because she was done cutting the orange. Open it up? Kara looked at the package, then back at Dhaunmyr, carefully mimicking the size gesture he’d made with his hands. Kara made a face when Dhaunmyr told her (or so she thought) that it wouldn’t be terrible. She hadn’t realized that moving in together would require doing so much – so much – cooking!
What could possibly be in the package that had Dhaunmyr so freaked out? Kara went to get it, happy to protect him from whatever dangerous thing might be inside it. She opened it up, frowning, and found – chicken? Raw chicken?
Kara glanced up at Dhaunmyr, then back down at the package, then up at Dhaunmyr again. She opened her mouth. She had so many questions – Why was he afraid of it? Why was he cooking it? Would he be willing to eat it? Why was he making food he wouldn’t eat?
In the end, however, Kara slowly closed her mouth, carried the package over to the cutting board, carefully positioned her body between Dhaunmyr and the raw chicken, her small muscular frame large enough to block his sight unless he really looked, and, very, very slowly and carefully, set about chopping the chicken into pieces of the size he wanted. She lined up the knife very carefully before each stroke, then brought it down with smooth even force, until every chunk of chicken belonged to its own cube, or at least as close as possible.
Kara glanced back over her shoulder at Dhaunmyr, and paused, thinking. “… Now what?” Kara asked, still keeping her body between Dhaunmyr and the dangerous chicken bits.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 19, 2019 17:34:36 GMT
“Okay, um, right.” He looked again in the bag. Everything there was for the food. Everything was to be used. Cornflour.
“Get the chicken coated in this stuff.” Dhaunmyr handed Kara a jar of flour, and, still avoiding looking at it, he put the contents of the bowls into a pan, got it simmering and added just a little water to it. Then, he pulled out a final jar. This one was bigger than the rest, he figured buying a lot of rice and just having it to hand was a half-decent idea.
The rice was cooking, too, a pinch of salt, again, something he bought in a decent quantity. Then, he heated some oil, in another, separate pan. He was alright as soon as it was in there, he thought, the meat wouldn’t be a problem if it was covered in something. This time, it would be just sort of covered in... crispy. But that was going to be good enough. Surely.
“Have you done it? Get it in there, carefully. Then you can go sit down, I’ll have it from here, alright? Thank you, dearheart.” Dhaunmyr smiled, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t like chicken really looked anything like an injury, it was fine, it was fine.
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 18:48:35 GMT
Coated in... stuff? Kara frowned. She washed her hands, carefully to keep the bandages dry, using soap to get the chicken bits off, then scooped some of the flour out. Then, Kara picked the chicken up again, dropped the cubes into the flour, and sort of swished them around with her bare hands, tentatively at first, then a little more enthusiastically as it became clear this would take a while.
Kara’s arms were splattered with flour up to the elbow when she finished, and there were white puffs on her clothing as well, and a smear on her forehead where she had wiped her forearm against it - but every single chicken cube was coated in flour.
Dhaunmyr said she was done and Kara let out a tiny sigh of relief. She washed herself clean again, and plopped down on a chair. Cooking was hard work!
Then Kara perked up. “I’ll be back,” she told Dhaunmyr, and with that she left the room; he heard the front door click shut moments later.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 19, 2019 21:01:48 GMT
Perfect. Everything was coming together... that was really what he’d needed for a while. Something to just work properly. And it was nice to do something with Kara, even if she did fist the grater.
Dhaunmyr could touch the chicken with tongs, so all that was sorted, and then — Kara was going? “Oh, alright. Be quick!” None of this took very long to be finished, so either it would be dry and too sticky, or it would be cold. He didn’t really have the option to leave it be, though. He had literally no idea how long she was planning on taking, but, at least, at least he could calm down again.
Rice, and that crisp chicken that took several attempts to pick up. He had to drain it of oil, first, too, which was even worse. Twice as much picking up. But it was over. And it was looking pretty damn perfect.
He’d wait to completely finish, he didn’t want it to just sit out and soak and get... well he wasn’t sure if it would make a difference, but maybe it would. Dhaunmyr waited, almost anxiously, but, despite the weird feeling that stretched over all other feelings, he was more calm than usual. He rejoiced in it. Calm. Dhaunmyr. Calm. He wasn’t about to freak out. He was... he was alright.
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 21:22:10 GMT
Kara wasn’t gone long. Within a few minutes her boots pounded against the walkway outside, the door opener and closed, and Kara reappeared in the kitchen, carrying a round package covered in waxy paper and sealed with string.
She set it down on the table, and sniffed enthusiastically, eyes wide. She stood hopefully at Dhaunmyr’s elbow, looking down at the food, then back up at him. Her stomach grumbled loudly.
“Is it - ready?” Kara asked, hopefully. “It looks nice,” There was a faint and happy wistfulness to her tone. She was over the strangeness now. It had been - nearly two years, Kara thought, since her last home cooked meal. Since she left Sundabar.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 19, 2019 21:33:39 GMT
Dhaunmyr’s face flickered with a content smile. He brushed the back of his hand against hers, as he brought it up to put everything together... and then it was all perfectly together and it was finished. Was it a new emotion, or one he’d just not felt since he was too young to understand anything could ever be wrong with his existence? He didn’t know. He didn’t really care.
Dhaunmyr gave Kara the bowl, and a fork. “Yes.” He realised she’d complain he wasn’t eating anything, eventually. He hoped, because it was the first time, she’d just let him get back into the swing of cooking before he got back into every other aspect of normal life, because Dhaunmyr wanted that now. He wanted to go to work every day at a normal time, and come home, and just live a life that anyone could have lived and not found novel.
“Let me know if it’s alright, I haven’t really cooked in... a few months. And nothing like that in years. He figured that he probably should have just gone with something familiar, but that kind of food he just... it didn’t feel normal, it didn’t seem like something to add to his very normal and not at all weird life.
What else was completely normal? He was... kind of seeing people, properly. But he just always had such disasterous evenings that it seemed laughable to continue the relationship. He had a normal hobby, no, two normal hobbies. Painting and reading. Those were extremely normal, but not boring! Not at all. He felt like some people equated normalcy and being boring.
Dhaunmyr couldn’t think of anything more exciting.
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 21:37:55 GMT
Kara took the bowl and the fork, happily admiring it. She lifted the bowl to her face, smelling it, and what maybe only Dhaunmyr would have known was nearly a smile smoothed the worries from her face and lit her eyes.
Kara waited. She waited, then when Dhaunmyr didn’t seem to be doing anything, looked around for his food. No sign of it. Dhaunmyr still wasn’t doing anything.
Kara went to the table and put her bowl and fork down. She unwrapped the package she had brought back with her, revealing a fresh looking cinnamon bun, and looked up at Dhaunmyr with a transparently hopeful face.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 19, 2019 21:54:47 GMT
Dhaunmyr hung his head, arms folded. Kara was too thoughtful and she knew him too well for comfort. Dhaunmyr, apparently, didn’t know Kara well enough at all. No part of him had expected what she had gone to do, what she had done. It was too kind. Too touching.
He couldn’t just say no, she’d bought it, she’d known him before he even did, he looked back up, rubbing under one of his eyes with the heel of his palm, Dhaunmyr nodded. “Thank you.” His shoulders fell, suddenly, and he sat at the table. He wouldn’t make her coax him, he wouldn’t force her to force him. Dhaunmyr was, in fact, almost indifferent to the concept of the bun. He was definitely not indifferent to being cared about like this.
It wasn’t routine for Kara, it wasn’t done thoughtlessly, or even, knowing he wouldn’t do any more than toss the food out the window. Dhaunmyr sat down. He’d decided that everything was up to him now, it was all his choice, all his body, all his him. For some reason, it didn’t stop him from having this relationship with food, maybe it would take a little longer.
Or, maybe something else was wrong.
He refused to accept that version, but in some ways, he knew it was true. Dhaunmyr couldn’t wait out his problems. He would have to face them. With that conclusion in the back of his mind, discarded, Dhaunmyr tugged at the edge of the cinnamon bun, pulling off a small amount. Other than that one night, it was just how he ate everything. Pulled apart, little bits, and slowly.
“Angel.”
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 22:06:22 GMT
In truth, Kara hadn’t been sure. Not totally sure. Mostly because it was hard for her to imagine cooking food you didn’t plan to eat. She would certainly never have done such a thing; if there was food she didn’t finish, it was always because she thought it would make her throw up.
Therefore, the cinnamon bun had been - like insurance. If Dhaunmyr ate, it would be dessert for them both. If not? Well, then he would have something she hoped he would be willing to try.
Kara sat when Dhaunmyr did. She didn’t say a word, but she did - wait. She waited, and she watched. Dhaunmyr reached for the bun, slowly, and pinched off a tiny piece of it.
Kara smiled. It was one of those rare sunny smiles that flashed across her face in no more time than it took to blink, lighting her up and erasing all the cares and worries etched into her. It didn’t last - they never did - but she picked up and fork and tucked in happily enough to the chicken and rice. As always, she took a slow, deliberate bite, savoring every bit of the flavor.
This time, when her first bite was done, Kara set her fork down and looked at Dhaunmyr. “Thank you,” There was a little lump in Kara’s throat, not from the food, and she cleared it away. Then, duties discharged, Kara picked the fork up, happily piled more food into it, and kept eating, with the same reverential look on her face throughout.
|
|
|
Post by enchilada on May 19, 2019 22:53:07 GMT
Dhaunmyr ate what was in his hand. It was really good. It was like a hug, really, just in food form. And it was just right. The kind of spices that were warm, and pleasant. Almost wintry, in his opinion.
That was it. The hot fire on the cold day. Snow outside. Hot tea, and you can feel the fire and the steam against your face. And everything was so much more homely, no matter how far you were from it. He knew how far he had been, at that point. He’d been about half a day’s walk to Waterdeep. And he’d been in a lovely little farmhouse, and there was all manner of blanket wrapped around him.
“You’re welcome.” Dhaunmyr smiled. He knew. “Do you want to know something? About me? It’s funny, really.”
He didn’t wait, he assumed. “I met Faerveren and Brennip after I passed out in the snow, then I got the most... awful fever. Faerveren was worried. She didn’t even know me. Not really. And then! Edward. The sweetest man I’ve ever met. I was passed out, drunk, in the snow, when he found me. So, when it gets back around to snowing... I’ll just keep you on your toes, alright? It’s a hobby of mine, it would seem.”
|
|
|
Post by moralhazard on May 20, 2019 0:07:34 GMT
Kara looked attentively at Dhaunmyr when he asked if she wanted to know something. She nodded, although he didn’t wait for the gesture.
Kara scowled at Dhaunmyr when he told her he had nearly frozen to death twice. And - why was he smiling about it? That wasn’t right at all.
Kara shook her head, grumpily, and went back to her food, eating more chicken and rice, bite by bite. With her usual determination, she worked her way steadily through the bowl - but never seemed to do less than fully savor every bite. It was just that once she started, all her attention was fully focused on the food before her - except when she paused to listen to Dhaunmyr, of course. He was even more important than food.
|
|