Solo Domestic Drykas

[Ronan]

Timestamp: 13th of Fall, 512 AV

After his encounter with Vanator, Ronan came to the kitchen and found no one in sight. There was no food prepared, but an idea came to him, and he thought he'd rather enjoy acting on it.

He remembered baking bread with Kavala, he remembered her hands brushing flour onto the tip of his nose. He found himself smiling warmly, though it felt an age away now.

He began to scour the kitchen for the ingredients he needed, remembering the method Kavala had shown him. He found the flour quickly enough, but the yeast starter and salt were harder to find. He searched high and low in cupboards and drawers, hands foraging through pots and pans to see what he could find.

In the end he found the yeast, but no salt. He put his hands on his hips, trying to think logically. When his eyes came upon a generous bag of raisins, he had a new idea, and spent a moment hunting down sugar. He found it quickly enough and placed the ingredients on the surface beside him. The raisins were plump and juicy, and his tastebuds danced at the prospect of a sweet load of bread. It would be a treat, he hoped.

He retrieved a bowl from the cupboard, and assembly complete, looked down at them all in exasperation. He had to wrack his memory to remember the order with which she'd done things. He had never been an accomplished cook. Not bad, but not an ounce of skill either. He remembered the food of his childhood with relish. The smell of rich, warm game cooking over flickering flame. Onions, releasing their sweet aroma in the heat. It made him salivate.

Memories resurfacing, he realised he needed a little water too. It was about two cups worth he remembered her getting, and then a little left over. It was to whisk with the yeast, he recollected, beginning to gather utensils he would need as well.

He was excited. The smell of baking bread was sure to bring all of Sanctuary's residents to the pantry. He wondered what Kavala's reaction would be to his sudden domestication. She had always given him free reign over her food stores while he stayed, so it was time to pay it forward and make something for her and her family too.

He began to measure out the starter, knowing he probably had the amounts slightly off, but trying to estimate as best he could. He began to whisk it in the way she had taught him, circular and firmly, the process designed to get rid of the air bubbles so he could get a proper measurement. It was the yeast that was key to making the bread.

[Ronan]

Having whisked the starter, clearing it of air bubbles, he began to pour the water in. A slow trickle as he whisked still, but at a gentler pace. The yeast seemed to react, dispersing in the liquid. He watched it curiously, eyes peeking at the bowls contents like a child.

He sprinkled in sugar, and distinctly remembered Kavala using about three quarters of the flour, but leaving one quarter aside. He continued to whisk for a moment, before scouting the pantry anew for a wooden spoon. He began to stir and fold the contents, the feeling strangely satisfying. The motions evoked so many memories of his mother cooking.

He realised he should probably add the raisins at this point. Mouth watering at the thought of this sweet loaf, he sprinkled them in, and dissatisfied, he added more, the spoon stirring them until they were dark specks lost in the mixture. He found it amazing that these various ingredients could mix and be cooked into something so much more substantial. It was the cycle of things though. The ingredients humanity needed to remain well fed and healthy.

He began to add the remainder of the flour, forgetting how Kavala had showed him, he just sprinkled a little in at a time, hoping it would do the trick. He kept stirring throughout, as the spoon met more and more resistance in the firming mixture.

Once it was a consistency he thought was about right, he spread some flour down on the surface and began to pummel the dough mixture. The palm of his hand pressed flatly into the mix, a small roll forward, and then he repeated the motion. The kneading made the mix malleable and once again removed the air bubbles. He remembered Kavala telling him the dough should be springy, and thus far it did not have such a quality. So he kept kneading!

His hand began to tire after around fifteen chimes of pressing the mix against the surface. He had to flour his hands once or twice, and re-flour the surface when the mix began to stick and peel. Eventually, it became more springy. He gently pressed a finger against the top of it, and the dough gradually filled the space back. He could smell it. Dough had a comforting aroma, of home cooking and self accomplishment.

Now he remembered leaving the dough to rest. Half a bell, or thereabouts. So he set about tidying up what he had used and left out in the kitchen. He could imagine Kavala's scowl if she returned to a messed up kitchen, with everything out of place. Once he was done, he leaned back against the work surface and snacked on some of the juicy raisins. Preparation in cooking had an uncanny way of making you so much hungrier than you were before.

[Ronan]

Having left the dough to rest, he took it back in his hands, working in a now tidier kitchen, and began to shape it into the general loaf form he wanted. He worked it in between his fingers. The thing looked beautiful enough now, the raisins just visible beneath the doughy surface. And it smelled sweet.

He shaped it into a pan like Kavala had shown him, rounding the top and using the utensils to score three diagonal lines that crisscrossed the surface of the dough. He let it rest against in the pan, figuring ten chimes or so should do the trick, just to let it plump up a little. As he did so, he made his way to the hearth, trying to figure out how to get it and the oven going.

For a comedic moment, he wished he had fire reimancy. But that was stupid - generations had lived without the need for that power in their lives. Laughing, he finally managed to stoke the hearth, and grabbing the pan with his doughy loaf, he placed it into the oven. At this point, he would have to go by eye, since he could not remember how long Kavala said they took to bake. And besides, he'd probably changed the ingredients a little, so it would probably have a different cooking time to it.

As he allowed the bread time to bake, he rested back on the surface once again, and brushed his hands together to get rid of the shreds of dough and flour. He found himself lost in reverie once again, and he glanced round wondering what everyone else was up to. He hadn't seen a soul pass through the kitchen, not since he had spoken to Vanator before coming in here.

Perhaps he could offer Vanator some bread, as a peace offering of sorts. This new detente was still odd for Ronan. He had vivid memories of being punched in the face by the man - but really, had he been at fault? Looking back, Vanator would have had no choice, not from his view at least. Ronan had been foolish, led by his emotions. Kissing Khiara had been one of the stupidest decisions he had ever made.

But those were times before Sama'el and Kavala. Before Semele. Before these touchstones of stability came into his life, when his passions and shadows had still ruled over his life, the legacies of his family's deaths. He turned away, nonchalant. Life was certainly easier now, but it had gone too far the other way. So many duties, and so many commitments. It was... binding.

The smell of baking began to fill the kitchen. He figured that if the scent kept up, Sanctuary's residents would come and find its source soon enough. It smelt good. The usual home cooked aroma, but with an extra smidgen of sweetness to it, brought about by the cooking fruit.

He helped himself to tea, having grown thirsty with the cooking. He glanced down at the tea leaves, wondering if he would ever take up fortune telling once again. It had been one of his mother's talents. But she hadn't read tea leaves, nor the tarot cards he had seen Konti with before. She had read the world around her, scrying into the sky and earth and stars, to try and see what omens and portents they suggested. She had taught him a little when he had been younger, but it was something he had never continued.

Writing too. These talents had fallen to the wayside, but if his life ever became a gentler one, he would perhaps begin his writing again. As a child he had sat in the tent and written poems. His mother had always enjoyed reading them, telling him he had a flair within him. An earthiness that made him understand the world around him.

Her words had been prophetic indeed. He looked to the dreamstone in his hand. An earthiness had certainly become a focal point in his life. The Goddess of the very earth itself had marked him as her own. He wondered what that would bring on its unknown path.

About half a bell later, the bread looked risen. In all his thoughts, he had forgotten it, and the crust had browned a little too much for his liking. But once he got it out and sat it back on the surface steaming, a cut inside revealed the bread beneath the crust to be just about right. Not bad for estimating, he thought, but he had Kavala's instructions to thank for that.

It smelled good, it really did. He allowed it to cool for a while, tidying things up again and putting the fiery warmth of the hearth back out. When it was cooler, he greedily cut into it, retrieving a piece for himself. He looked it over, a few raisins speckling its innards with their juicy sweetness. He bit into it, the crust a little to crunchy, and the bread perhaps a little too chewy. But it was good, it really was. He couldn't expect perfection when he was hardly a trained cook.

He swallowed it gratefully, dusting off his hands once again. He looked to the door, wondering who would come down to investigate the rich scent. He was proud of it, and was keen to show Kavala the work.

After all, he would be leaving again soon, and he'd back to a life of game and trail rations. Suddenly, his appetite left him.

[Magpie]

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Ronan :

XP:
Observation +3
Cooking +3

Lores:
Switching Recipes to Fit Ingredients
The Recipe for Bread
Remembering Life's Twists and Turns

Notes :

A very easy, pleasant thread, and fun to read. You have a very straight forward style of writing that makes even long posts easy to read. Looking forward to seeing more.

If you have any questions or concerns about what was awarded, please don't hesitate to PM me.
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