[The Rearing Stallion] We Meat Again! [Orin Fenix]

by **Isolde Seibold** on March 31st, 2015, 3:39 pm

"Not embarrassingly simple," Isolde corrected amiably, "Just simple. It's not like I came up with it all on my own, either. My mother showed me. Although she might have come up with it, I don't know. She was quite talented at stitching." She peered down at the knot he'd done, and considered his suggestion. "I suppose you could do something like that at the beginning to start the stitches, though I've never tried it myself. Good thought. It might take a few tries to get it right, but that never hurt anyone. Maybe I should give that a go, next time stitching comes up." Not that she stitched a lot. So maybe in another hundred years or so. Somehow the idea of that length of time stretching before her was both darkly amusing and sobering. The smile she had just been about to produce flattened into a frown.

And she wasn't the only one frowning. Orin starting apologizing, and Isolde held up her hands as if to deflect his words, shaking her head. "No, don't be sorry. I don't want... I didn't mean to seem... I... well, I don't know." She put a hand to her forehead, slumping down in her chair. "I'm certain I've gained things," she said, though her tone wasn't even enough to convince herself. Though she smiled a little at the cook's next statement. "Well, there is that. So yes. I'm glad to have met you." It was something at least.

But the Nuit couldn't help it. The thought of having good come out of her transgressions, out of this petched situation... she didn't know. What was good about being Nuit? Sure she lived longer --if you could call it living, which she still wasn't certain it was-- but she hadn't wanted that for herself. She didn't have to eat or drink or sleep... but those were things she wanted to do. There was joy in food, just as there was joy in the capability of closing her eyes and dreaming. Because she had become a Nuit she had learned magic... and yet she'd rather have had Wyn live a long and healthy, happy life than use one ounce of djed. And, as she had explained to Orin, using magic wasn't exactly a good thing, and it definitely wasn't a safe thing. For the Nuit, who needed to know how to defend herself but couldn't learn to do so favorably in other ways because of her physical limitations, magic was something of a necessity. If she didn't need it, she didn't think she would use it.

She listened to Orin's words, fretting at her lower lip, fidgeting with her fingers once more. "I know, I--" she started to say, then stopped and took a deep breath. "It's hard for me, like you said, and I think I... make it harder for myself. It's difficult to-- well, to let those things go. To let it be okay that they're gone. That was my life. My everything. My daughter. My family. My old friends. My love-- loves, really, despite what my husband did. I don't know if I can move on without losing what makes me me."

She sighed, rubbing at her face, staring down at the table. Insecurity and doubt crept into her voice. "If I give up any part of who I was, I'm afraid that I'll lose the rest. I guess that's what it comes down to, really. I'm afraid, Orin. W-What if one day I realize I can't remember Wynry? It would be like she was gone, all over again. But this time there would be nothing of her left, not even a memory. Nuit..." Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed, forging on. "Nuit seem to get cold, somehow. I don't think you've met any others besides me, even I've barely met more of them, but they... they do. They lose themselves. There's too much time or something. It's like they forget, forget everything that made them human before. Or it just doesn't matter anymore. And I don't want that. But how do I stop it from happening to me? I try to hold on. But I don't know if that's enough."

At his conclusion that she might undo what had been done, the Nuit sat up a little straighter, and said with a little more resolution, "Yes. That's what I wanted. To try to find some way to reverse this. I don't know if it's possible or if I'm even smart enough to figure out how. But I think I'll try as best I can, and hope it's enough." Then she collapsed down in on herself again, saying weakly, "I'm... I'm sorry, Orin. I don't mean to dump any of this on you. I don't know if it's appropriate to speak of these things, if you even want to hear. Probably not. But there's just... there's no one else. Shyke is a good friend," she said, trying to inject some humor, though she thought it would probably fall flat. "But he is a bird and as such is not the best conservationist. Not that I don't love his squawking, but I don't speak seagull." She smiled thinly.

"The Burned Man's name was Kieran. Kieran Skyglow. I suppose I say he's lucky because the fire didn't kill him. It also didn't burn away his mind. Magic is dangerous, as I warned before, but even more so than just to the body. At least physical pain you can live with, can learn from, as Kieran did. But when magic targets the mind... nothing good can come from that. Overgiving --using too much magic-- can leave a person an empty husk. Or it can drive them insane." She took a deep breath.

"I met the Burned Man outside of Mithryn. After I was changed..." she grimaced, "I went home, but it wasn't the same. I wasn't human any longer. People were scared. I stayed inside my empty house and tried to figure out what to do. Eventually I realized that I had to leave. So I just left. Just walked out of the gates, didn't bring anything. I don't know what I was planning. Maybe nothing. Kieran and a couple others, I found them out there, or they found me. We talked, and they agreed that I might travel with them. I still don't know why they would have helped me, but they did." That had always seemed strange to her, that a group of kindly strangers had been waiting outside just to find her and supply her with all she needed. But she had just marked it down as a coincidence. Perhaps a life's worth of good luck, rolled into one moment.

Isolde let Orin contend that he wouldn't make a good knight, and she conceded the point. "I see what you mean. I guess my words made it seem like everyone who has a good heart should be a knight, though I didn't mean that at all. I just meant that that's where the knighthood starts. Those are the the roots of the tree, if you catch my meaning." The Syliran banner, the knights' crest, involved a tree, an oak. She was certain to learn more about that as her squirehood progressed, though already the symbol was as familiar to her as anything could be. Most of her life had been spent either in Syliras or Mithryn. "I think Lady Knight is as good a title as any, and sure you can meet her sometime, she's a wonderful person. I've only just met her, but I can already tell. Though I don't know when, and she might not be able to talk for long. She always seems like she has things to do. As for what you should call me... please, just call me Isolde. As a squire, especially one that just started, I'm so low-ranking I doubt I've earned any special title. And I don't think there are special names for mages, though I haven't learned much about the Order yet."

Talk turned back to the trip, and Isolde leaned forward with her elbows on the counter, using the subject as a means to strangle the seed of ill-feeling that had sprouted since she'd spoken her qualms concerning the past and future. She tried not to look troubled, instead focusing on Orin's words. "Don't worry on renting me a horse. I've arranged with my Sera that I'm to buy one. I'll likely meet my new steed in a few days, so I can take him or her on the trip. Not that I'm any better at riding than you are. Maybe we could practice together sometime. And I don't want you spending money on me, either. If I need anything I'll buy it... though I honestly don't know if I actually do need anything. A bedroll would just be for comfort, so it's unnecessary. A tent... well, I'm sure they come in different sizes, but I doubt I'll need one of those, either. Maybe if it rained, but I've got my coat and hood here," she pointed to her clothing, "so that can keep me safe from the elements, and I don't mind getting a little damp. Plus there are always trees to hide under."

by **Orin Fenix** on March 31st, 2015, 5:54 pm

Orin stayed silent for a long time, simply letting Isolde's words flow through him. It was awful what had happened to her. And Orin wished it hadn't. But Orin knew that dwelling in the past at the expense of the present was a dangerous existence and one that led to a great deal of bitterness unless it was stopped. He knew this firsthand, from his own life and from his own past. Orin simply turned the spit letting the motion try and steady his thoughts and still his tongue. Isolde had given him a lot to ponder and he wanted to make sure he understood it all before he tried to help Isolde. The sewing was completely forgotten, although Orin was pleased that his idea might have some merit. Far more important was making sure Isolde was settled in her heart, mind, and soul.

Finally Orin couldn't wait any longer. He turned his gaze to Isolde and tried to catch her eyes, not wanting her to look away before Orin had said his piece. "First of all, you should never hesitate to unload your burdens on me. I can't promise to help with them but I can promise to do my best to help you shoulder them in whatever way I can. I think we've both spent far too long not talking to others and I've come to realize that's not healthy for a person. It's not healthy at all." Orin took a deep breath before continuing.

"First of all I completely support you seeking out ways to reverse, alter or improve your condition. Whatever you have to do to improve your life. Still, I think you should at least give embracing or trying to embrace being a Nuit a try? You never know what you might discover along the way. But as to the other Nuits you've met becoming cold what's to say that they weren't like that when they were technically living if that's how you want to look at it? After all maybe the type of people who voluntarily become Nuits tend to have been cold humans or whatever race they might have been? Do you actually know that it's the memory loss at all? It might have just been their personalities."

"But beyond that, you have a conscience. I know you have a conscience. You've certainly spent more than enough time regretting your past to not have one, wouldn't you agree? I refuse to believe that time alone would change you that much. Other events sure but not all alone. But, let's say it does. Let's say that you would forget everything and lose who you are if you stop clinging so fiercely to the past. It's terrifying. But it's also preventable. I mean, I'll still be here twenty, thirty, maybe even fifty years down the line. I can be your moral compass if you trust me to do so. I can remind you of your feelings and emotions right now. I will be there to tell you you're a good person and to help you remember Wynry's laugh and her smile. And trust me when I say there will be others. We've already established that the Knights are good people yes? I can't imagine you won't befriend kind souls there who would be happy to inform you when you lost your way and gently nudge you back into the proper path. But if you don't trust mortal memory, then there's something else you can do that is infallible. You want to be a poet? Write about it. Words don't change. So write how you feel. Write how the sunlight fell onto your daughter's hair and the sky framed your lover's face. And look at what you've gone and made me do. That wasn't supposed to be a speech. It sounded a lot shorter in my head, I'll have you know." Orin flushed. Who was he to be giving anybody advice like that. He was just some silly child, a young man with demons in his past who had spent his whole life remaining in the same place. Do I really think that I am in a position where I should be telling Isolde how to think and feel? Orin hardly fair in control of his own life let alone able to help others through their own crises.

Orin shuddered at the image Isolde's description of The Burning Man's other potential fates. "I still feel bad that he suffered so. But magic can make someone lose their mind? And their body and their life? I had no idea that it was so dangerous. Why would anyone risk such? Orin didn't particularly care for power or fame of the kind that physical strength or magic could bring him. And surely there were much easier and more mundane ways to get work done without magic. Maybe they were harder but Orin wasn't afraid of taking the harder path when the easier path was so fraught with peril. But there was one more comment about The Burned Man Orin felt he should make. "You shouldn't ever find yourself surprised by the kindness of strangers. Don't rely on it of course. But still, I would think when you get down to it most people would lend a helping hand. Maybe that's naive of me. But it's what I hope and believe."

Orin laughed at Isolde's firm statement that Orin didn't have to call her anything special. It was a distinct relief. Orin was good at respecting unknown authority figures. But once he opened up around someone it was hard for him to then control himself. And Orin was horrible at giving the proper respect and reverence to dignified personages. He wasn't going to push Isolde into letting Orin meet her patron. Orin figured that if it happened it would happen. Moving on to the trip planning with relish Orin grinned at Isolde. "Well that's good about the horse. And yes, please, let us learn together. I'm going to be horrible at it unless someone helps me. Maybe you should get some experience in it from the lady knight before we depart so that then you can share it with me? Only if you have time of course. And I must say you're easy to have around. Very low maintenance. And useful and kind and funny to boot."

by **Isolde Seibold** on March 31st, 2015, 8:21 pm

OOCOrin is a gem. :3
Also this was a short one, sorry!

Overcome with emotion was only a meager description for how the Nuit now felt. Orin's 'speech' as he'd called it reverberated through her, and for a long while she couldn't say anything, just had to sit on the stool and try to make sense of what she was feeling. There was this growth of emotion that fluttered in her gut, in her chest, in her heart. It was so potent, so thick, that it was difficult to try to pick her way through it, as if a forest had sprouted inside her and each tree was a reflection of this one feeling, each leaning and braiding and weaving unto the strength of the next. It reminded her of that strange saying, something her father had once said: can't see the forest for the trees.

And then, as she looked over at Orin, it was as if a ray of light swept down through the branches, and she understood.

She was happy.

The Nuit put a hand to her face. Amazement filtered through her, and she stared at the young man as if he was something so precious she couldn't understand. This light among the trees, it reminded her of a feeling she'd once had, one that she barely remembered. The light had come from a wolf-woman in the form of a soft white radiance, a god's glow that had fallen over her when she'd been hurt and needed help. The Nuit now felt the strange compulsion to laugh or cry, she wasn't certain which. At the sight of his blush, as if he was embarrassed by what he'd said, Isolde felt the urge to hug him, to fling her arms around him, but struggled against the feeling not knowing if that might be welcome. She folded her hands tightly together in restraint.

Finally, she managed to whisper out, "Thank you." She cleared her throat, trying to make her voice louder, stronger. The glow of happiness hadn't yet dimmed. "You're right. I-I can't think that stuff. I've got to figure out how to-- to stop being like this, so down all the time. That won't help me. That won't help me, or anyone." She said the last bit twice as if trying to memorize it, looking away from him for the first time and down at her folded hands. It was only then that the Nuit realized she was gripping her fingers together so tightly that her knuckles were straining and released herself, pressing her palms flat to the counter. "I do trust you. We hardly know each other and yet... I do. And I know you're right. I can do this. I can get better. I just have to remember that I can. Maybe I should write that down too." She seemed to be in something of a daze. So it was good when Orin started to speak again. It helped her to concentrate on here, now. She didn't dare look at him again, yet. She was afraid it might cast her back into a stupor.

"I guess I use magic because the Burned Man thought it would be a good idea," Isolde worked out, in response to Orin's question --though it might have been rhetorical. "Nuit aren't liked and we can't protect ourselves the same way others can. We're slow-bodied, physically weak and sluggish. That makes usual combat difficult. And as most find us disturbing at least and dangerous or evil at most... well, protection is somewhat necessary. Kieran knew that he wouldn't always be around to protect me. So he gave me the means to protect myself."

Now as it was Orin's turn to compliment Isolde, she felt she would have blushed had she been able, looking down and drawing circles on the countertop with one pale finger. "Of course we could learn to ride together. Though I doubt I'll have much to contribute on the matter. So what else are we planning to do? Ride out, see the sunset falls. There must be some sort of camp set-up involved. Maybe I should learn how to climb a tree." She said the last sentence musingly, then laughed as if it was ridiculous. Isolde was in such a very good mood. She wondered how long it would last. "I think I'll do that. I'm gonna climb a tree."

She looked over at the spit, and then at the bowl of marinating strawberries. "We've been talking for a bit, now. So how's all that doing?"

by **Orin Fenix** on March 31st, 2015, 10:02 pm

Orin's cheeks probably just got more red as Isolde didn't do anything but stare at him. Her expression was inscrutable but she hadn't reacted badly. She hadn't reacted let well either. She hadn't reacted at all really. Scuffing one foot against the ground awkwardly Orin finally broke the eye contact. He didn't see Isolde do the same as she looked at her hands although he did catch a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye. "You don't have to stare I know I might have rambled there for a while. But, well, did it help?" Of course a moment later he had his answer when Isolde thanked him in a halting voice. That only further his embarrassment. Orin wasn't an orator of any kind and the fact that his words moved Isolde so frankly amazed him. He ran a careful hand through his hair leaving it sticking up as he tried to process Isolde's response to Orin's impromptu speech. "I'm glad I helped you but I don't know why you're thanking me. I just did a lot of silly talking there. You did all the thinking." Orin shrugged, trying to convey that Isolde should be responsible for her newfound hope. Orin had just known it was there and tried to spark it into life. He didn't think he needed gratitude for just doing what he assumed a good friend would do.

Still it felt indescribably good when Isolde told Orin that she trusted him. Orin couldn't remember anyone else having such confidence in any aspect of his life. Usually scorn or derision was Orin's lot. So to hear that someone actually considered him a confidant meant a great deal. "I will do my best to honor that trust," Orin said shyly and solemnly. He wondered if this was what friends did. Maybe Isolde and him had progressed to a point beyond friendship. Only time would tell. But he wanted to assure her that Orin would do his best to help her. "You can do this. And for those rare instances where you forget that I'll be there to remind you that together, we can do anything. Or something similar to that we can work on the exact wording I mean it would probably be best to do it on a situation specific basis wouldn't you agree? But regardless I'll be there to pick up the slack of you need me. And maybe you'd do me the kindness of picking up my burdens when they become too heavy to carry in return? I'm not very good at this whole speaking metaphorically or whatever you poets call it. But I think you get the idea."

Orin's ever running dialogue did pause when Isolde brought up the advantages of a Nuit using magic. It was something that hadn't occurred to him when he'd been trying to wrap his mind around the dangers of magic. "Well I asked why so I shouldn't be surprised when you give me an answer. And that makes total sense to me and I'm glad Kieran had the foresight to give you the means to protect yourself when he knew he couldn't be there to protect you himself. I guess the takeaway here is that any magic should be pondered before use and that we should never, well, when I say we I mean the people who give magic to people, which I guess would be other mages so I suppose I should say they? Anyway, when they initiate someone they should make sure they're the right character I mean have the right character, to handle the responsibilities. Did you follow that at all?" Orin was getting the sense that magic in moderation wasn't a problem and magic wasn't necessarily bad. It was using it to excess and harming others that probably gave magic the bad reputation it currently had. Of course pretty much anything that could be used to harm people had, and yet people didn't go around fearing fire because of arsonists. Although they were afraid of burning themselves so maybe that example needed some work. But still, anything could be abused and turned to a nefarious purpose. Perhaps magic just encouraged its users to do so to a greater degree.

Thankfully his troubling thoughts got pushed aside by Isolde's laugh. It was like the first song of birds in spring or the first rays of sun poking through a cloud, beautiful in its natural honesty. Orin almost cheered at it but carefully restrained himself not wanting to spoil this moment in any way. Still he had to reply eventually. "I climbed a tree. Once. It was kind of a crazy day remind me to tell you about it at some point." There had been a storm and a goat that charged at Orin and a trio of bullies and all sorts of events that were a lot more fun and exhilarating in hindsight. But Isolde's questions about what else they might do at the Falls sparked Orin's brain. "Well it's still in the early stages but I was thinking that the Sunset Falls sounds like a lovely setting for a picnic wouldn't you agree? And oh I remember hearing one of the regulars mentioning a new kite vendor in the market that had some interesting pieces. I've never flown a kite before but I think that it's supposed to be fun. At least the children playing with them at the festivals seemed to think so. And maybe I could work not just on riding but maybe, I don't know, my survival skills in general? Maybe you could teach me a little more about magic. And obviously Sayana, I think you'll like her, will probably have lots of plans of her own. She's the organized and the social type so I have no doubt she's put a lot of effort into this trip.."

Orin got so caught in the potential plans of the trip that he completely forgot to pay attention to the time. So when Isolde asked about the strawberries Orin smacked his forehead with his hand. "I'm an imbecile thanks for bringing it up. They should be just about done. I don't think it's an exact science in this case but you never know with food." Hurrying over Orin poured the strawberries and their sauce over the cream mixture. He pulled out a spoon. Glancing over at Isolde, Orin have her a mischievous little grin. "Just going to have one. For ah, tasting purposes of course. Actually, wait. Ladies first." Pulling out a second spoon with a flourish, Orin swept up the bowl and placed it and a spoon down in front of Isolde with an obviously outrageous bow. Orin hoped his complete lack of gallantry and his attempts to imitate it would startle another one of those laughs out of Isolde.

by **Isolde Seibold** on April 1st, 2015, 1:37 am

"I'm glad I helped you but I don't know why you're thanking me. I just did a lot of silly talking there. You did all the thinking."

Isolde shook her head, still smiling, a sunny expression. "You did more than that. You gave me perspective. I hadn't thought of any of those solutions. About the Nuit, or how to keep my memories safe. I guess I need to learn to consider things from different sides, not just my own." She paused, then added, "And you need to learn to give yourself more credit." She tapped one finger against the countertop for emphasis.

The Nuit listened as he swore to honor her trust, and she gave a similar vow once he'd asked if she might help him, should he ever need it. Though hers was worded less formally, she meant it no less. "Of course. Should you ever need me, I'll be waiting. If you want to talk, or if you need help with something, even just cooking. So remember that."

There seemed to be many things that they might do outside the city, and Isolde felt a stirring of excitement at the possibilities. "Picnics and kites sound lovely," she said, "So make sure to buy one for me and I'll pay you back, okay? Maybe if you can, something pink? Or maybe orange. A bright color." She clapped her hands together, rubbing them as she considered the possibilities. "As for other things I could do... maybe while you're practicing your survival skills I'll look around for interesting plants and stones. I've been meaning to do some herbalism or botany or whatever it's called, plus recently geology's become pretty important to me. So I might do some rock hunting. If you remember to ask about it I'll try to answer what questions I can about magic, though my knowledge is certainly limited. And Sayana... well, I'm sure I'll like her if you think I will." Isolde beamed him a smile.

It appeared that time was nearly up, and the Nuit looked over with curiosity --and a flutter in the stomach-- when he finished the dish, pouring the strawberries over the waiting cream. When he took a bow, much as she had earlier, Isolde giggled, an oddly girlish, bubbly sound coming from someone who looked past middle-age. She picked up the spoon and thwacked him lightly on one shoulder, then peered into the bowl that he'd set before her. "It's beautiful," she said.

She hadn't been near food in so long. The lamb had been one thing. This was another. It had a fragrant scent, light and sweet and maybe a little heady from the wine. That was nearly enough, all on its own. Isolde hesitated a moment, then dipped the spoon in, taking only a tiny bit of what was offered, a bit of cream mixed with the sauce and a tiny sliver of strawberry. Conscious of Orin, she politely stuck the spoon in her mouth-- it was strange after all the years that something like the proper way to hold a spoon was still habitual.

The dessert dish was delightful. Isolde felt her eyes flutter close, though this time the feeling of sadness didn't tinge the taste. Instead, she felt content. The cream was thick and somewhat rich and had a pleasant texture, the strawberries offsetting, so fresh and sweet. "Mmm," she breathed out, opening her eyes and taking the spoon from her mouth. She'd decided that actually consuming a small amount would likely not be an issue, as long as she didn't do it too often. Besides. She didn't want to spit it out.

"It's so good, Orin. 'Strawberries dear, sweet wine grown.' Um... 'Something something something; like a child.'" Isolde laughed again, shrugging. "Well, you said I was a poet. I'll have to figure out how to actually do poetry. But what I was trying to say: it's delicious." That done, she looked at the used spoon in her hand, and then down at the apron she was still wearing. "Oh. If you want I could wash this?" She held up the spoon. "And I don't know about this," pointing to the apron. "Maybe I should wash that too..."

by **Orin Fenix** on April 1st, 2015, 3:15 pm

Orin smiled glad that he'd done his part to bolster Isolde's spirits. Maybe she was right and he should be a bit kinder to himself and have a slightly higher view of his own opinions and abilities. Still a lifetime of being pushed down was hard to overcome and nearly impossible in an afternoon. Still, maybe Orin would do well to write down Isolde's words as well. "Seriously I've found that sometimes those who are closest to the problem are the most blind to the solutions if that makes sense. And it never hurts to get a fresh perspective especially if you feel lost. Which is something I'm still learning myself so don't feel bad about it at all. We people are very stupid sometimes. I am sure there are times when I'll need a mental tap on the shoulder. Actually I'm certain there will be times when I will need a mental slap in the face. Or a physical one if I'm being especially thick. As to giving myself more credit well, I guess we both have work to do and we both learned something new. And I don't mean the sewing or the cooking. Which you probably understood. I think my well of wisdom finally ran out." Not that Orin really saw what he'd said and done as dispensing wisdom. He'd just spoke words that he thought Isolde needed to hear. Anyone could have done it really. Maybe Isolde had been so caught up in being a Nuit that she'd just needed some help in remembering how to think like a normal person. Of course, Orin was quickly coming to understand that for all people feared them Nuits were still people, although they were wildly misunderstood ones. Orin was discovering that many of the tenets about life that he'd held as true were actually either huge oversimplifications or just blatantly false. It made Orin wonder what else he might have been misinformed about. Coming back to Isolde and her return promise Orin grinned. "You may very well come to regret offering to help me cook. You know that right?"

Isolde's joy was infectious and Orin found himself getting caught up in the excitement. "Alright pink for you, yellow for me and red for Sayana. I'm almost certain she likes the color red." However he titled his head puzzledly when Isolde brought up rock hunting. He had no idea why she would be interested in something like that. Not that it didn't seem to be an interesting enough topic of study, it just had been a bit unexpected. "Well I'll leave the rocks to you. Why is geology important for you all of a sudden? But if you're looking for plants I would happily join you. I know a little bit on that subject myself but not nearly as much as I should. So I can potentially help you out although it's more than likely it'll be both of us just fumbling around there." It was true. Although learning more about herbs was also an interesting topic. Unfortunately to Orin's knowledge most plants and herbs wouldn't be in season until summer or fall, so they hard pressed to find anything useful. But seeing what they looked like as they were growing might be good. And Orin might be able to remember where they were in the summer and fall if he tried really hard. At the very least it might be good to see what's out there.

The light tap on the shoulder and the giggle made Orin's heart soar. He'd made someone else happy and it wasn't even through his actions but essentially just with a few simple words and a silly gesture. It was a heady feeling and it filled Orin with hope that maybe he wasn't such a bad friend after all. While it would probably take a particular kind of person to put up with Orin's never-ending prattle, at least he'd proved to himself that when someone opened up to him and he to them he could and would make their life better. And Orin cherished that. While he would still be cautious in seeking out new friends maybe he shouldn't doubt that the few people who Orin had been getting close to actually wanted to befriend him.

While it was kind of Isolde to compliment the arrangement of the dish the real test was the taste. Although Orin was pleased with how he'd laid it out. He waited tensely for Isolde to take the smallest portion of the strawberries in cream and watched her face eagerly for any sign of her thoughts. And his patience was rewarded when a blissful sound escaped from her. Orin nearly whooped with joy. He took his own spoonful and let the flavor explode into his tongue as Isolde tried to come up with a beautiful phrase for his dish. "I actually surprised myself with this one. Maybe cooking is an art after all. As for poetry I have faith you can figure it out. I mean, after everything I can't imagine a few words giving you any trouble right?"

He was about to tell her that there was no need to clean anything up since they did the dishes and utensils all in one big batch at the end of the day and shipped the aprons out to a laundress periodically when he was interrupted. Brucila, the bolder of the two barmaids poked her head into the kitchen and called out, "Remi patrons are showing up what..." She trailed off as she saw that it was just Orin and someone she clearly didn't know. She gave a saucy little wink to Isolde before turning to Orin. "So Orin where'd Remi and Rondo get off to?"

Orin gulped. But he'd volunteered, almost begged Remi for this opportunity and he wasn't going to back off from the challenge now. From that inner core of self that Orin was beginning to recognize as the place his mental fortitude rested, Orin dredged up every last bit of authority he could. He was about to do his best Rondo impression but hesitated. He didn't need to impersonate Remi or Rondo or anyone at all. He could and would come up with his own style of running this business. And Orin thought kind but firm was a good way to go. "It's just me today Brucila but that don't mean you get to slack off out there. You know the drill. We've got lamb and fresh greens with strawberries and cream for dessert. You know the drill. Bring them ale tell them the dinner option and I'll start setting up plates by the door. Don't forget to get the coin just because a pretty face flirts with you. And tell Carmen I don't want to hear that she's dragging her feet again. Now off with you! I'll save you the best cuts and portions of everything for your own supper." Orin didn't know how effective his orders had been. But it felt oddly right to be giving them and Brucila gave him a respectful nod before ducking back out to the common room. Orin went to the lamb and began carving off slices before placing the greens next time them, and slightly over. He tried to arrange it as artfully as he could not that the patrons here were likely to notice.

Of course in his haste to get to work he nearly forgot about Isolde. When the first set of plates were finished Orin turned to go back to the lamb and the sight of her was a bit of a surprise. "Isolde! I'm sorry I got a bit distracted there for a moment. Ah you're welcome to stay but it's going to become a bit hectic for the next two bells or so. Sorry about this but duty calls. And don't worry about the mess! We do one big cleanup as a whole staff together at the end of the day. It's kind of fun, well not really, but we do gossip a lot about the employees and the regulars and you're welcome to stay I just don't know how enjoyable it'd be for you. We get it done pretty quickly working as a team so don't feel you need to." Orin was letting his mouth run on its own too focused on his job to actually pay much attention to Isolde. He refused to let his first stint as head chef go badly and he'd do all the work himself if that's what it took.

by **Isolde Seibold** on April 1st, 2015, 3:57 pm

"You may very well come to regret offering to help me cook. You know that right?"

Isolde grinned widely, a sudden diabolical look. "And you may very well regret allowing me to help." They had already been over how clumsy she was when it came to cooking, how inexperienced and just plain awful a chef she'd been. The little splatter of sauce on the apron was nothing compared to some of the messier spills in her day. Even following directions could end up disastrous. But regardless, it would be fun to cause kitchen mayhem together. Though she wasn't so certain Orin would feel the same way, not if the kitchen was sacred to him.

"Oh... geology has to do with my reimancy," she explained when Orin questioned her choice in hobbies. "I'm wondering if I might be able to make different kinds of earth, of rocks and maybe soil or even sand. But I don't really know all that much about rocks, what they look like or feel like or their properties, so I thought I might go looking for some examples, and see what I can do." As she spoke she stood and walked around the counter, tucking the stool back in where it'd been before, then placed the spoon in the sink. She reached behind to start --hopefully-- undoing the knot Orin had tied back there. "And yes, you should come with me when I look for plants! I'm trying to familiarize myself with the local flora, I'll probably take some notes and maybe some samples, and then see if I can make sense of what each is or does and if it has any helpful uses, especially for like... medical stuff. Though maybe we could find some that would be useful while cooking."

She had barely finished speaking when a head poked suddenly through the doorway into the kitchen from the bar, and Isolde gave a nervous wave of the hand to the woman --who appeared to be a barmaid-- as the young lady winked at her. But it seemed the Nuit needn't worry about getting Orin in trouble for hanging out back here, because the woman
--whom Orin called Brucila-- didn't give either of them any unfriendly looks or stern words, instead just informing the cook of the dinner rush. Isolde looked fondly over at Orin as he gave Brucila her marching orders, and finished pulling the apron free --finding an appropriate place to put it-- as he hastened about the kitchen collecting plates and carving the finished lamb.

It was amusing when he turned around and saw her there, giving a start as if he'd completely forgotten her presence. As he rattled off about the work he had to do, the Nuit just held up a hand and said, "No, no it's fine! I can see you're getting busy. I would stay, but... well, I don't want to be in the way --trust me, you don't want me getting in the way! I just know the lamb would find the floor-- so it's probably better if I just skedaddle. So, thank you for allowing me to take up your attention this afternoon, thank you for the dessert, and I'll see you later... the 30th? Um. Oh, and where are we meeting? The stables? The gates?"

Once Orin had said his piece, Isolde would wave a hand at him in farewell, giving a neat, parting curtsy this time in stead of a bow, and then would chuckle and skip out through the door she'd entered through, once more careful not to displace it.

by **Nivel** on April 8th, 2015, 7:48 pm

Isolde Seibold :

Orin Fenox :

Additional Comments: If you have any questions or concerns please feel free to message me.