A True Konti (Solo)

[Blythe]

Fall 3, 511 AV

In the wake of the night,
lingered a single star
a gentle silver
which sank into the dark blanket,
which failed to sparkle.

This star stood out amongst all the rest,
not because it was particularly bright,
but because it lacked luster,
because it didn't know how to shine,
to show its strength,
its colors.

The other stars never came to this,
thinking it unwise to associate with those deemed weak,
or even a little strange,
thinking it best to simply ignore the little star which didn't know how to shine.

This caused the star to weep,
littering silver glitter into the night,
sparkles that fluttered towards the world,
illuminating it in tiny patches,
flickering candles,
threatening to blow out.

Those still awake
chased the glimmering light,
following it until the ends of the earth,
where they fell into nothingness.

Where they too,
fell into the dark.

[Blythe]

Blythe stared at the words upon the page. Scrawling black ink hastily cast onto paper that felt rough beneath her pale fingertips. Blythe sighed, as she ran her fingers over the words. Trailing the ink across the page. Causing the letters to sweep, to look as though they were shooting stars. Causing the wet blackness to sink into her skin.

After a few moments of reading the words over, of stroking them as though they were some strange pet. As though such a thing may keep them in her mind a little longer, Blythe pressed her quill into the center of the journal. Into the place where the pages met. Where they broke. She closed the journal gently, and placed it on her bed beside her.

Slowly, the Konti eased herself up, and forced her legs over the side of the bed. Within moments, she was standing on her own two feet, and headed out the door to the kitchen. She could hear her stomach growling. Feel it tying itself into knots.

Blythe sighed. Better get something into you, before you wake the whole house up, she thought, as she made her way down the hall and into the kitchen. She pushed past the empty table, the empty seats, to the counter, and opened all the cabinets that rested a few feet above it. There were a number of things inside- flour and sugar to name a few. This should be more than enough to make something halfway decent, Blythe thought, as she pulled a few things down and off the shelf at random, just to see what she had to work with. Just to see if looking at some of the supplies gave her any sort of idea as to what she should make.

After a time, of sifting through various baking goods. Some fruit. A bit of bread, Blythe decided to do some baking. With the bread growing old, she figured it may be a good idea to whip up a new batch. So, she pulled a large wooden bowl from one of the counters, measuring cups and spoons, as well as a whisk, and large wooden spoon to use for mixing. Hopefully this will do, Blythe thought, as she glanced to the side of the counter, and pulled the family cookbook a little closer.

The woman opened the book, and flipped through the pages until she came to a section on breads. She nearly missed it as the lines returned.

Those still awake
chased the glimmering light,
following it until the ends of the earth,
where they fell into nothingness.

Whatever could it mean?

[Blythe]

The poem may be a literal one, Blythe thought, as she flipped through the thin section of various bread recipes, marking off the better ones with her fingers. Leaving them wedged between promising pages. But that seems unlikely, given the nature of poetry. Thus, it is all the more likely that the "star" stands for something else. But what could it be? Blythe wondered, as she stopped at a recipe for white bread. She read through the ingredients, and figured it should be simple enough.

"Well here goes," Blythe whispered as she pushed the cookbook towards her left, so that it'd be away from her mixing bowl and the ingredients. She ran her fingers over the page as she read the recipe over again, looking for what she should prepare and do first:

.25 ounce active dry yeast
3 tablespoons white sugar
2 1/2 cups warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C)
3 tablespoons lard, softened
1 tablespoon salt
6 1/2 cups bread flour

Directions:

1) In a large bowl, dissolve yeast and sugar in warm water. Stir in lard, salt and two cups of the flour. Stir in the remaining flour, 1/2 cup at a time, beating well after each addition. When the dough has pulled together, turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 8 minutes.
2) Lightly oil a large bowl, place the dough in the bowl and turn to coat with oil. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise in a warm place until doubled in volume, about 1 hour.
3) Deflate the dough and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface. Divide the dough into two equal pieces and form into loaves. Place the loaves into two lightly greased 9x5 inch loaf pans. Cover the loaves with a damp cloth and let rise until doubled in volume, about 40 minutes.
4) Preheat oven to 425 degrees F (220 degrees C).
5) Bake at 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) for about 30 minutes or until the top is golden brown and the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when tapped.

"The yeast it is then," Blythe whispered, as she grabbed a measuring cup and filled it with tepid water from the basin kept in the kitchen. This is only one cup, we'll have to fill it again one and a half times, Blythe thought, as she looked over the markings on the side of the glass, before pouring it into the wooden bowl. She repeated the process once more, pouring another cup of tepid water into the bowl, before going back to the basin one last time, and filling her measuring cup only halfway. She then poured the last of the water into the bowl, before sifting through her ingredients until she located some yeast. At this point, she measured the equivalent of .25 ounces out with the help of a measuring spoon. She then tipped the spoon towards the bowl filled with water. Watched the tiny beige grains fall to its surface. Listened to the soft, subtle hiss, before everything rested against the surface. Causing the water to ripple before the majority of grains sank.

Afterwards, Blythe sank her measuring spoon into the sack of sugar. She leveled the white grains against the spoon's outer rim, counting out one tablespoon three times over, and pouring it into the bowl of yeast. She then let the stuff rest, knowing it would froth and rise if given enough time.

The Recipe :

The recipe is taken directly from this site: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/traditional-white-bread/detail.aspx The only change I made pertaining to how the yeast was written, since I am unsure as to whether or not they have packets of it in Miz.

[Blythe]

As Blythe waited for the yeast to rise, and froth, she went about measuring the other ingredients she would need. First, she pulled out a number of measuring cups, and then eased six and a half cups of white powder into one. Flour. When that was done, she looked around for some sort of container filled with lard, but she found nothing. Perhaps butter will work as a substitute, she thought, as she pulled a stick out of storage, and placed it by the bowl of yeast.

Several bells passed, after the Konti had finished most of her measurements, causing her to stand idly, in wait. Causing her to bite her bottom lip absently as she watched the yeast slowly rising. Frothing and bubbling. The woman sighed, at least it is ready now, she thought, as she added a pinch of salt to the yeast, and then two and a half cups of flower. She then cut the stick of butter in two, and placed half of it into the mixture. She hoped it was enough. Not too little, and not too much. She wasn't sure how to measure butter.

After the ingredients had been added, the Konti resumed her stirring, from time to time, adding a half of cup of flower to the mixture and stirring even more furiously, as the recipe suggested. When all of her ingredients seemed to have been incorporated into the batter, Blythe stopped, and tipped the bowl over, allowing the dough to flop onto the counter. She righted her bowl when it had all spilled out, and then dipped her hand into the sack of flower. She grabbed some of the powder, and sprinkled it onto the counter. She then rolled her bread over it, and started kneading. Punching her bread in the center, and curling the dough over it, over and over for several bells.

When the dough had become smooth, Blythe stopped kneading, and poured some oil into the bowl, as the recipe said. She then scooped the dough up, and put it back in the bowl. She rolled the dough around with her hands, coating it in oil, before placing a cloth over the bowl, and leaving her dough to rise.

[Blythe]

Several chimes later...

Blythe returned to the kitchen, and lifted the cloth off of the bowl containing her bread dough. She noticed that her bread had risen, and nearly doubled in size. She smiled weakly, as she tipped the bowl over, and allowed the dough to fall out, onto the counter. She then pressed her hand into it, causing the dough to sink into her knuckles. After a few moments, Blythe slide her hand to the right, allowing it to rest on one end of the doughy mixture, and her other hand, on the other end. She then, gently pulled the ends apart, until they had formed two relatively equally sized pieces.

Since, as far as she knew, her family didn't own any bread tins, Blythe plopped half of her batter into a pot, which her family tended to use when boiling water for pasta, or something like that. The other half, the konti returned to the mixing bowl. She would heat it up after the first batch had finished baking. When she was done, she placed the cloth she had used before atop the mixing bowl, and a fresh one atop her pot filled with bread batter.

A full bell later...

Blythe returned to the kitchen, and lifted the cloth off the pot. She noticed that the dough had risen, and now rested close to the top of its metal confines. It looks good enough to bake, Blythe thought, as she lifted the pot and made her way out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door. She nudged it open with her shoulder, before stepping outside into a frightfully sunny day. She held her head down somewhat, to help keep the light from burning her eyes, as she made her way to the firepit.

One of her sisters must have started a fire earlier in the day, for Blythe could hear one crackling long before she caught sight of it, the orange flames dancing, and jumping for the sky. Spirals of grey smoke floating into the air. Blythe smiled weakly as she approached it, and rested her pot against a hook which dangled from a long wooden beam over the fire. She took a few steps back before the flames could come out to lick her flesh, singe her eyebrows.

"Now, all that is left to do is wait," Blythe whispered, as her mind drifted off to her poem, and the stars. She could not help but think that the piece had nothing to do with celestial bodies, and everything to do with grounded objects. But, even the thought was hazy and muddied. Unable to be expanded upon any farther than that. At least for now, so the Konti stopped trying, and simply, sat herself down by the side of the fire. She curled her legs into her chest, and hugged her knees with her arms.

Soon enough, she had drifted off into Nysel's realm.

[Blythe]

Blythe awoke what she assumed to be several bells later from a dreamless sleep. Her eyes stung, and were beginning to turn red, from the smoke she was smelling. The burnt taste seeping through the space between her lips and into her mouth, as she waved her arms around frantically, trying to cut away at the dark grey spirals. But that didn't seem to be doing much.

That's what you get for falling asleep, Blythe's mind scolded, as she lifted a stick off the ground, and pulled the pot away from the fire with it. The pot seemed to be smoking just as furiously as the flame, and as the konti swung the stick around, ridding the area of some of the smoke, she began to notice just how flattened out and black her bread had become.

Blythe sighed, as she set the pot down on the ground and pulled the stick away. She watched the bread still smoking, and sighed once more. She was going to have to rip the charred remains out of the pan before cleaning it off with a sponge and towel. Then, from there, maybe, she could try to properly cook the remaining portion of dough properly. But she doubt it. She wasn't really in the mood to bake anymore, considering how burning things could be terribly depressing.

[Cachet]

Blythe : Blythe SKILLS Poetry:2 Writing:1 Cooking:4 Mathematics:1 (For measuring and all Minor use) LORE Cooking: Making Bread Poetry: Thinking on Meanings Conclusion: Poor Blythe does she always have to fail? Anything seem out of place? Any questions please feel free to contact me ASAP.