Completed [Welcome Home] Not So Lost Boys and Girls (Solo)

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love 60th of Winter, 514 AV Orin pushed open the door to The Welcome Center gingerly. He had heard about this place from Remi, who made occasional visits to it when time allowed. Orin was suitably impressed by the outside façade of the building. The three stories were amazing, considering how regulated most space in Syliras was. However, this building was set apart from the fortress and it’s pale gray stone hinted at both its newness and its separation from the rest of the city. The ceramic tiles around the windows, doors, and odd second story patio were gorgeous and Orin would’ve loved to know who made them. There were numerous flowerboxes around, empty now, but holding the promise of spring in them. Orin could easily imagine the riot of color The Welcome Home would be in the summer, with blossoms everywhere making a stark contrast to the plain walls. Orin hoped it could bring a least a little joy to the lives of those within. Entering the Home proper, Orin quickly shut the door against the ever-present cold and wind. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Orin couldn’t help but smile at the paintings adorning the walls. While some were professionals, others were obviously handmade by the residents of the Home. Somehow, what should’ve been a clash of styles and talents meshed into a single coherent whole that emphasized the nature of the place. The carpet underfoot looked soft and inviting, and Orin could almost see in his mind’s eye children rolling about in it, wrestling, playing or generally just horsing around. He could easily add the sound of laughter and the smell of home cooked food to his mental picture and it tugged at his heart. Orin couldn’t help contrasting that portrait to his own upbringing. While for most of his life he’ known the comfort of having his own home, it wasn’t as if his father’s cottage had been the most comforting or inviting place in the world. It was far from it, actually. It had been dirty, disorganized, and falling apart as the years wore on and Orin’s father descended further into depression. Without his mother there to keep it neat and tidy it had degraded quite rapidly. In fact, for as long as Orin could remember it had been decaying. And after his father’s untimely demise, Orin had been passed from family to family. His guardians had ranged from indifferent to downright hostile. Orin had been used as a drudge, for menial labor and had gotten the last of everything from food to clothing to bedding. And through all that, he’d had the burning ache of not having either of his parents. For all that, Orin didn’t begrudge these orphans their comforts. While these surrounding were luxurious by Orin’s standards, they were small when compared to not having a family of one’s own. Orin’s reverie was broken by a polite cough from the hallway ahead of him. Realizing he’d been standing in the doorway Orin took a few steps into the sitting room. A middle-aged woman was waiting there, a pleasant expression on her face. She was fair skinned with curly auburn hair. There were just the barest hint of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, but they pointed to laugh and smile lines, not frowns. This was confirmed when she grinned infectiously and gestured for Orin to come in. ”Thanks for coming to the Welcome Home! I’m Aenysa Tieran, the caretaker here. We’re so happy to have you here. Sorry to keep you waiting, the children were just finishing a lesson. Can I ask the reason for you visit today sir?” Normally, meeting a stranger made Orin nervous but this woman’s open and vivacious personality dispelled any lingering doubts he might have had. Returning her smile with one of his own, Orin straightened up to his full height and walked to take the hand the woman was proffering. Shaking it firmly, Orin tried to come up with a clear and coherent explanation as to why he was here. It didn’t help that he wasn’t entirely sure himself. ”Nice to meet you Aenysa, I’m Orin Fenix. I appreciate the warm welcome. As to why I’m here, well, I don’t know quite what to say. I guess I just wanted to meet the children. I had some free time today and I heard about this place from my boss. Remi, the chef from The Rearing Stallion, that is, she told me she visited fairly often.” Pausing, Orin wondered how much he could or should reveal to this woman. She seemed kind enough, and he figured the Knighthood and the Syliras government wouldn’t assign anyone to this job who wouldn’t hold a deep empathy for others. Deciding to go all in Orin continued, although his words were quite tentative. ”I myself lost both my parents when I was growing up and I guess I just wanted to check up on them. Who knows, maybe I’ll find a kindred soul, you know?” It sounded silly when Orin said it out loud and he hung his head, embarrassed at the thought he could bring something to the lives of these kids. Aenysa, however, didn’t seem surprised or mocking at his words. Her smiled simply deepened and it brought a glow to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes. Encouraged, Orin met her gaze. She seemed to recognize something there and her entire demeanor softened even more, if that was even possible. ”We love visitors of all kinds here. We don’t get as many as you might expect and the children love it. If nothing else, it changes up their typical routine.” She chuckled to let Orin know she was joking, and Orin joined her. ”Would you like to meet them? They’re through there and I’m sure you all will get along swimmingly.” Aenysa gestured at the door leading to the interior of the Home. Orin hesitated for just a moment, but he nodded. ”I-I’d love to.” At that, Aenysa took him by the arm and lead him back.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love As Orin followed Aenysa into the inner sanctum, as he was referring to it in his head, he felt anticipation bubble up. He’d never had any particularly good experiences with children, through no fault of his own. But, growing up the other younglings in Mithryn Outpost hadn’t exactly treated him kindly. And since then, his brief encounters with them had ranged from polite but disinterested to downright devilish. It probably stemmed from the fact that Orin was far from authoritative or even that interesting, so children either ignored him or ran wild when he was there. It didn’t make for a good situation either way. So, he was completely and totally unsure what type of reception he would receive here. While Aenysa was clearly a good person, there was no guarantee that the same could be said for her charges. So, Orin was feeling a great deal of trepidation as he went. For her part, if she noticed Orin’s misgivings, didn’t say anything or give any indication that she was aware of them. Orin appreciated that, since it gave him time to take a few deep breaths. He tried to think of it like pulling calm in with the air. He didn’t know if that helped, but it didn’t help slow his pounding heart down. Orin wasn’t good with people at the best of times, so he knew that he’d probably have to be at the top of his game here. He honestly wanted to get to know these kids and earn, if not their friendship, at least their respect. He couldn’t really determine why it felt so important to him, but it did, so that’s where it stood. Finally, Aenysa stopped outside a door. She motioned for Orin to enter first. Steeling himself, Orin went inside. There were rows of desks with paper and a few assorted books scattered throughout. All the desks were facing the same direction, away from the door. However, at the sound of the door creaking open, every pair of eyes in that room fixed upon Orin and he froze. Aenysa came to his rescue. She walked to the front of the room and pulled Orin along in her wake. ”Children, this is Orin. He’s visiting for today. I have a few things to take care of upstairs, so I’m going to leave you in his very capable hands. Be nice now.” A sullen chorus of hello Orins and similar greetings rose up from the class. With that, she pushed him forwards, and while he was recovering, she slipped out the back. She closed the door quietly behind herself. Though Orin didn’t know it, she was lurking outside, listening in, ready to swoop in if it became necessary. If the introductions went well, she would leave him alone for the rest of the day. Orin felt speared to the wall by the intensity of the gazes fixed upon him. Though these were children, they had seen a lot in their short lives and it showed in the expressions on their faces and the guarded wariness in their stares. Too much had gone wrong for them to be able to trust new people or new events easily. Orin felt a stirring in his soul. He knew these children. He was these children. While oviously there were numerous differences the most primal and basic parts of Orin recognized the faces in front of him as people who he could relate to. Feeling himself freed from his paralysis, Orin pulled up a chair from the corner and sat. It scraped slightly along the stone floor. Smiling cautiously, Orin looked at the closed door, then met the eyes of as many of the orphans as he could. His smile gained a slightly mischievous slant. He leaned forward and gestured for them to listen closely. He then whispered,”If you want to cheat a little on your lessons I promise my lips are sealed.” Immediately the mood of the room brightened and the activity of the room became frantic. That easily, Orin found himself accepted. Rushing to the desk silently, the older kids hushing the giggles that sprang up from the youngest they began pulling out papers from the desk. They quickly distributed them and furious erasing, scribbling, and general mayhem ensued. Orin couldn’t help but smile as the ‘corrected’ tests and answers were quickly slipped back where they belonged. Obviously this wasn’t the first time they had performed this particular trick and they had a clear system in place to make the whole operation smooth. Three of the lot detached themselves and came up to Orin. They were two girls and a boy and they had similar expressions of inquisitiveness on their faces. They stood before him, clearly judging Orin. The girls had their hands on their hips for the girls and the boy had his arms crossed. The whole picture they made looked incredibly adult and Orin had to stop himself from laughing. Figuring these three were the ringleaders, Orin settled himself in to his next test, winning their trust and regard. ”So Mr. Orin, what’s your story? What do you do?” The older girl spoke first by unspoken agreement. The other two deferred to her lead. Meeting her gaze with his own, Orin answered with complete candor. ”Well miss, I’m from Mithryn Outpost. I’ve only been in Syliras for part of this winter. So, if you have any tips for me I’d really appreciate it.” They swelled with pride at the thought of being able to teach something to an adult. ”As for my job, well I’m a cook. I work at The Rearing Stallion” A grin came over the girl’s face and turned her positively angelic. At that look, Orin felt the last of his barriers crumble. She darted forward and grabbed his hand. Tugging him impatiently, she began dragging him forward. [b]”A cook? You have GOT to make something for us, I love cooking. M’name’s Fentya, he’s Damien and she’s Trish. I can help you! And so will everyone else.” This last was given with absolutely command and authority. It was clear she would allow no disagreement on this particular matter. Orin let himself be led by Fentya with a light heart. This little he could do for them. The rest of the orphans followed in a clump.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love Fentya’s path took them out of the classroom, through the great room and across the hall to the kitchen. Orin gasped at the sight. While it might not be as large or as well stocked or as up to date as the kitchen in The Rearing Stallion was, it still was still remarkable. Orin took a few steps in, just bathing in the atmosphere. There was a stove and oven on the right side of the room and a hearth fire on the left. A table with a few chairs graced the far wall. There weren’t enough to hold everyone so Orin’ guessed there must be a separate dining hall elsewhere. There were plenty of wooden and a few marble counters. The shelves and pantry were closed but Orin could guess that they were filled with all sorts of food and ingredients along with pots, pans, plates, bowls, cups, cutlery, and anything else you might need to eat or prepare food. The windows let in the sunlight and the ceiling was fairly high, giving the room an airy and open feel that was completely impossible to achieve in the citadel proper. And it was a far cry from anything Orin had ever had growing up. If he’d had this spot of peace and solitude it might have made a difference in who Orin had turned out to be. But maybe not, and Orin had no regrets about anything in his life so far. Around him, the children split like a stream around a rock as they scattered to every corner of the kitchen. Luckily most were too short to reach the higher shelves unless they stood on top of chairs or boosted each other up. Orin reflected that it was a good policy and probably done on purpose. After all, more often than not he had made a complete and total mess of his kitchen when he was left unsupervised in it. And sometimes, again more often than not, he’d done the same to one of the neighbors’ kitchen when someone else’s mother was watching him and she either forgot about him or had to step out. The best times had been those rare occasions when he had been discovered, and instead of being chased out or scolded, instead whoever it was had laughed and joined him in his random experimentation. Those times had been few and far between and Orin could probably count the instances on the fingers of one hand. Making his way to the closet set of shelves, Orin threw it open. He went down the line, until everything the kitchen had to offer was on display. It was mostly the common goods. Orin saw flour, the basic vegetables, some odds and ends of meat, likely leftovers, some fruits that had managed to avoid being eaten even this late in winter, honey, and assorted spices. Nothing too fancy but all of it was good solid food. Looking at his selection, Orin let his mind drift, trying to decide what would be best to make. Something sweet was always good, especially for children who could almost never resist a treat. But it also had to be simple enough that they could potentially feasibly make it on their own. Orin didn’t know how patient the orphans were, so anything that required too much prep time was out of the question. However, if it took a while to actually cook or bake then that would likely be acceptable. Orin could ask for a tour or the rest of the Home or their favorite spots. Pulling down the wheat flour, the honey, the salt, some cinnamon, the lard, two sticks of butter, a bag of walnuts, just a bit of cheese, and the sack of apples, he set them all down on the counter. Untying the bag of apples, Orin pulled it out so the apples rolled to the wall, the action making the smallest of the children giggle as Orin had hoped. He also took down a few bowls, a few spoons, and every knife he could find. Turning to what seemed to Orin to be a sea of faces, Orin grinned conspiratorially. ”I’ll make you a treat, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. I promise it’s very good though. Now, who’s going to be my helper?” Nearly every hand there shot up and waved about. Orin widened his eyes in a show of mock surprise. ”Well, if you say so, I’ll put you all to work. Now, listen carefully. I need some of you to go fetch me a bucket of water. Everybody else, I’ll need you to help pare and core an apple. Watch carefully.” Fentya apparently appointed herself temporary sous chef. She pointed at two youngsters, who scampered off presumably to get the water Orin had requested. Smiling at the sight of her bossing around her friends as if she owned the Welcome Home, Orin couldn’t help but good that at least one person other than himself was enjoying herself. Suiting actions to his words, Orin picked up a knife. He carefully peeled the skin off one of the apples. Next, he made a circular cut around the stem, making sure the knife didn't go all the way through the apple. With the recipe he would be attempting, it would be important to make sure the bottom of the apple stayed in. Pulling out the majority of the core, Orin set it aside where it wouldn't get in the way or get mixed in with the rest of the ingredients. A few seeds remained in the hole he had just made, and Orin scraped them out with his knife. Orin was moving much more slowly than he normally would to make sure the kids were following along with him. When he was satisfied they could handle this task, he began handing out apples and knives. Fentya made them line up. She sternly glared at anyone who tried to move out of turn. Orin had trouble keeping a straight face during the process. Soon enough, everyone had his or her supplies. ”Now get to work! Be careful though, and always cut away from yourself. I don’t want to explain the Aenysa why any of you sliced your fingers off.” Turning to Fentya, Orin invited her up to his counter. ”Since you seem to have quite a bit of experience in here, I’m going to need you with me. Sound good?” At her happy nod, Orin grinned and she met it with an eager smile of her own. ”Now, on to step two!”

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love Roping Fentya into serving as his personal assistant was probably one of the best ideas Orin remembered having in recent memory. She was probably better than Orin was in certain aspects of cooking. Orin saw that she was competent enough to be trusted without supervision while performing some of the more basic tasks. He set her to grounding up the walnuts and shredding the cheese. While she was working on that Orin started setting up the two bowls that would comprise the batter he would be making up. He started sifting flour into one of the largest bowls. When he had filled it up hopefully far enough to make enough pastry to wrap each of the apples, he set the significantly lighter bag of flour aside with relief. He’d forgotten how heavy those could get. Orin wouldn’t tell the children this, but he was basically doing two things wrong. First, he was working from memory and secondly he’d never actually cooked anything like this before. Usually the desserts and the ingredients needed for them were considered much to expensive and precious for Orin to be fooling around with. Still, he personally was confident in his abilities and it was pretty close to a few other foods Orin had baked in his life. It also wasn’t his materials and since Orin was almost certain the knighthood paid the orphanage’s expenses, he didn’t feel bad about using them. It was after all going to a good cause. But mostly, Orin was feeling a thrill of excitement. It was rare that he got to do exactly as he pleased. Orin mixed in a good amount of salt, since he had so much flour in there. It might turn out a bit too salty, but in Orin’s experience salt managed to bring out the flavor even in the dishes one would expect salt to ruin. Next, Orin began throwing in lard. He put in small chunks and mixed it until the consistency was just right, becoming slightly crumbly. Seeing the bucket of water placed at his feet, Orin paused to thank the two children who had struggled to carry it between them. Smiling deviously, he slipped one of his daggers out of its sheath. While some might have questioned the wisdom of giving blades to small children, Orin had been around dangerous farming equipment at their age and they used knives all the time when they were eating. ”Now, I’ll be wanting that back and no hurting anyone or yourselves with it, promise? But until then I’ll let you hold onto it. Practice with it if you’d like.” Seeing awe on their faces as they nodded their agreement, Orin couldn’t help but feel that he had made a good, if questionable decision. But maybe if they became intrigued with weapons at an earlier age than Orin had, they wouldn’t have to deal with the issues Orin had when it came to anything and everything physical. It also got them out from underfoot, and Orin watched as they darted off to a corner with their new treasure with a fond smile. Returning to the food, Orin swung the almost full bucket to the table, careful not to let any of it slosh over the side in the process. Sticking his fingers in, Orin was shocked at the sudden cold. Orin wondered if this was simply slightly warmed up snowmelt. However, a cold temperature wouldn’t harm the dough any. Removing his fingers, Orin slowly sprinkled water over the flour, salt and lard. He could feel Fentya’s eyes greedily taking in every nuance and aspect of his actions. Normally, that intensity would’ve caused him to be nervous, but he recognized that drive in her eyes as the same one that was in him. Meeting her eyes for just a second, Orin nodded in acknowledgement of her intelligence, ferocity, and pride. She nodded back just as solemnly. Orin tested the mixture in front of him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite right yet, so he plunged his fingers into the freezing water again. This time, it was enough. The flour, salt and lard now came away easily in his fingers and Orin quickly removed it in its entirety and placed it on the table, shoving the bowl out of the way with his elbow. Orin began kneading the dough. However, seeing that Fentya had completed her work with the cheese and nuts, Orin decided to let her handle the dough. He handed her the rough shape. She took it carefully. ”Knead that until it’s all mixed together and then smooth it out so it’s the same thickness all across.” She quickly set to it, and Orin could see her brow furrowed in concentration. Confident in her, Orin grabbed a smaller bowl and began to prepare the rest of this concoction. Throwing the butter into a bowl, Orin began mashing it up. As he did so, he carefully poured some honey in, not sure how well the two would meld. He was making up this part up of the recipe as he went along, since the Welcome House inexplicably didn’t have the sugar it called for. Orin had substituted honey for sugar in the past. It had usually worked out just fine. As soon as he judged enough had been done to the butter and honey alone, he began carefully sprinkling cinnamon in. Cinnamon was pricey and for good reason; it was difficult to harvest and had such a delicious taste. Orin only dared to add a small portion in. It was still more than he’d ever used before. Once that was included, Orin gave it a few last whisks with a spoon. Scooping up the cheese and the nut residue, Orin tossed those in and put it all together. His spoon was meeting resistance, but that wasn’t unusual. Once it became a true paste Orin knew it was ready. Setting it aside, Orin surveyed the rest of the kitchen. Fentya had finished with the dough and was directing the children with apples to line them up in a neat and orderly fashion. Orin chuckled under his breath, not wanting to offend her. She was a spitfire and Orin had high hopes for her future in the culinary field. He took his bowl and spoon in hand, and passed it to her. ”Here take this. I need you to scoop out a bit and fill each and every apple as much as you can.” Almost before Orin had finished speaking she had taken it from his hands and began with gusto. ”The rest of you, follow me.” Grabbing the first apple, already filled, he brought it to the sheet of dough. Taking up a knife, Orin traced out a pattern of equally sized squares. He started cutting them out once he judged them to be the proper size. He noted absently that Fentya had layered it almost mathematically flat and equal in thickness. Once he had one removed from the larger batch, he put his knife down briefly. ”Now, here’s your next project,” addressing the few children who had retained interest in his demonstration. With that, Orin wrapped the pastry around the apple, giving it a small twist at the top to seal it. Cradling it in both hands, he showed it off to his audience. ”There simple. I’ll give you the squares, sound all right to you?” Without waiting for an answer, Orin placed the apple on the counter. He started cutting out pieces. Hands grabbed for them and he made sure they wouldn’t rip it before starting on the next one. Soon all the dough was cut up. The pastry-covered apples were shaping up. Orin went over to check on the oven, which he had restocked with wood in a spare moment. It looked as if it was heating up nicely. On his way back to his station, he grabbed a tray. Taking up a bit of the remaining butter, Orin rubbed it on the tray to prevent the dessert from sticking. By that time the children were all done with their various tasks and had gathered around him again. Orin began placing the apples on the tray. Once he’d grabbed them all, he shoved his way through the crowd of small bodies. They parted slightly to let him through but closed up immediately behind him. Sliding the tray in and shutting the door, Orin brushed his hands together. ”There, all done! We’ll have to wait about a bell before they’re finished.” At the groans, Orin held up a finger in fake admonishment. ”I haven’t even mentioned the best part yet. We’ve got to wash all those dishes!” They all sighed again, but went to work with a vengeance. Sooner than Orin would have believed possible, the kitchen was spotless. Orin was at a loss, so he settled on the first words that popped into his head. ”Why don’t you show me all your favorite places around here? I’m sure you’ve discovered all sorts of nooks and crannies Aenysa knows nothing about.”

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love   Fentya was reluctant to leave the kitchen. Orin laughed, because nothing much would happen until almost a bell had passed. Kneeling down he drew her face to his and smiled. ”A watched pot never boils. Or, more applicably in this case, a watched over never bakes. That doesn’t roll off the tongue as well though. What it means though is that it won’t go any faster if you’re here and it will be waiting for you when we get back. So, why not show me the rest of the Home?” Fentya was being stubborn and refusing to budge, but this time it was Trish who led the charge. Orin rose up and followed her quickly disappearing in love. Even though she was significantly shorter than Orin, he was having trouble keeping up with her youthful enthusiasm and pace. The few times she had gotten too far ahead though, she had come back halfway and bounced up and down impatiently for Orin to catch up. Once he did, she had run off again and the cycle repeated all over again. This continued all the way up the stairs to the second floor and part of the hallway lined with rooms up there, until the group reached a doorway. Trish ran in excitedly, but Orin followed at a more sedate pace. Orin stopped in shock at the sight awaiting him. This room was stocked full of every possible art or craft that one could probably imagine. Paints, paper, charcoal and easels were scattered everywhere, a loom and a spinning wheel took up one entire wall, and there were a few musical instruments present as well. The room even held what Orin thought was a pottery wheel, although he couldn’t imagine anyone at this age was capable of making pottery. He also didn’t know how they would heat the clay once it was done. He hoped they didn’t use the oven downstairs, which currently held his precious baking apples. The taste of clay would not do much to improve the taste of the dessert. Trish had immediately gone to one of the corners where an impressive array of drawing and painting supplies was located. She carefully picked one piece of paper out of a pile after rifling through it to find exactly what she was looking for. She returned to Orin and almost shyly proffered it. Orin took it gingerly, not wanting to damage whatever on it was clearly precious to the little girl. Staring at it Orin couldn’t help the sense of awe stealing over him. It was a detailed portrait image of everyone in the Welcome Home, including Aenysa. And, Orin was surprised to see, Trish herself. The background was a gorgeous looking garden. Orin guessed it was likely the garden in the back, which he had gotten glimpses of through the kitchen window. It was barren now but as Orin could see from Trish’s artwork, was beautiful and thriving during the spring or summer. ”Did you make this? It’s AMAZING. I’ve never seen this detailed before, even from a master artist. You’ve got a real and rare talent there.” Trist simply cocked her head to one side and with a great deal of audacity and a cheeky tone stated, ”I know!” She plucked the painting from Orin’s unresisting fingers and replaced it. She brought the whole sheaf over to him. Orin quickly saw that it was her portfolio, with the oldest images on top and the newest towards the end. As he went through it, his admiration for her ability grew. He could actually see each progressive image grow in artistry. They were mostly portraits and nature shots, nothing abstract, but meticulously accurate and lovingly rendered. Thinking about downstairs, Orin figured that some of the wall artwork had to be Trish’s. Otherwise, it would be a shame. Handing it back to her reverently, Orin examined the rest of the room. Children were standing by what Orin could only assume were their personal pieces. He toured around, making sure to say a kind word about each and every one of them. There was a range of skill on display, but each piece was clearly important and even if they weren’t as high quality as Trish’s it was apparent that they were each held in high regard to the one who made them. Not all of it was drawn or painted. There were a few sets of clothing here and there and what Orin could only described as half-finished tapestries in a few spots. Orin was extremely glad that Aenysa seemed to be teaching them trades that would let them stand on their own two feet when they would inevitably have to leave. Orin felt a brief pang of envy that these children had access to such a lovely escape, but he quickly throttled it down. He wouldn’t let such an ugly emotion destroy his sense of wonder at what had been created here. It wouldn’t be fair to the children Orin was quickly beginning to see as his friends and more adult than he would’ve guessed. Probably that had to do with whatever hardships they had suffered that had cost them their parents. Mostly, though, he attributed it to their own intelligence and the lavish care they were receiving from Aenysa. Orin would definitely have to compliment her on a job well done before he left. Damien was tapping his foot impatiently. Unlike most of the others, he didn’t seem inclined to the arts, since he hadn’t given Orin anything to look at. But now it appeared he would be taking Orin to the next stop on the tour. ”He’s seen enough here, let him go already! It’s time to show him the library. It’s great Mr. Orin you’ll love it there!” Damien began walking backwards, clearly not willing to take no for an answer. Not that Orin would have ever denied him. Orin was actually intrigued. While he knew how to read and write, he’d only seen a few books in his lifetime. So, a room that was filled with nothing but books held more than a bit of mystery for Orin. He eagerly left the arts and crafts room despite the protests of those still within.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love Orin descended the steps right on the heels of Damien. Apparently the library was on the first floor. Actually, that was good for Orin since his nose would be able to detect if there was a problem of some kind with the pastry in the oven. Burning dough had a highly distinct smell as did smoke from a fire. Still, Orin felt they should still have more than enough time to look at one more room before he had to remove the apples from the oven. So, as the door creaked open, Orin allowed his faint hint of worry drift to the back of his mind so he could appreciate what was in front of him properly. Books. Books everywhere. Shelves lined with books, tables stacked with them. More books than Orin had every seen before in his life. Orin was shocked at the money that must have gone into making this room alone. Information was normally tightly regulated in Syliras. The Archives were closed to the public and only squires, knights, and presumably other select individuals were allowed inside. Orin had discovered this when he’d tried to get in to see if they had any cookbooks. Remi owned one, but it was mostly recipes she and some of her helpers had written down over the years. Orin already knew how to make pretty much everything in it so going through it had been a bit of a disappointment. He hadn’t said as much to Remi, though. Rondo refused to write down anything in it, claiming that if someone wanted to learn from him, they’d have to do it in person. Orin was sure it had much more to do with pride and laziness. Rondo wouldn’t lift a finger to help others and he was terrified of anyone else becoming a better-known chef than him. Rondo clung to his notoriety like a child with a safety blanket; he truly believed that there was no such thing as bad publicity. Orin wasn’t the confrontational type, or he imagined that Rondo and he would butt heads much more often than they did now. Still, even the thought of the oft-irritating chef couldn’t dispel Orin’s happiness. While he was partially aware of the cost of all these treasures, mostly Orin was fascinated at all the information here. There were rows of shelves but the room also sported a few tables and desks with paper and quills in case one needed to take notes on whatever was being read as well as some incredibly comfortable looking reading chairs with sumptuous cushions. More cushions were scattered across the floor in a semi-circle around one corner. Orin idly tried to divine the purpose of that set-up before he realized it was probably where Aenysa had story time. The walls were lined with lanterns, not candles or torches. Orin approved. One knocked over candle could cause a disaster. A fire would be terrible here. The books would go up like kindling and all that knowledge would be lost. A stupid grin was plastered on Orin’s face. The children all laughed outright at his expression, but there wasn’t any teasing or mocking tone to it. It was simple and honest joy. Damien was already standing with a book in his hand. Orin went to him to glance at the title. ”Myths and Legends of the Syliran Region and the Truth Behind Them? That sounds way too complicated for me!” Orin chuckled. Damien simply gave him a look that clearly indicated he thought the chef should be bettering himself and working on his scholarly pursuits. ”Well it’s certainly not too complicated for me!” Damien said quite primly. It sounded exactly the same as something one of the elders at Mithryn would have said. And it was altogether out of character with Damien’s youthful appearance. So much so that Orin laughed. He wasn’t the only one. Damien took it all in stride, clearly used to the ridicule of his peers. He simply gave them all an arch look before continuing. ”It’s entirely authentic and contains a lot of valuable lore. I would encourage you all to read it. I’m halfway through it myself.” “Oh give it a rest already Damien, Mr. Orin doesn’t want to hear about your dry books!” Fentya was clearly done waiting to return to the kitchen as she took charge again. One eyebrow rose in an authoritative manner as she pointed the door. Damien simply shook his head at her, returning his tome to its rightful place by one of the best looking chairs in the room. Returning to the kitchen, Orin grabbed a couple of cloths from the counter. He wrapped his hands around them. Orin was all too aware of the potential burns he could receive if he touched an oven that had been heating up for almost an entire bell. Pulling it open caused a wash of warm air to beat against Orin’s face. With it came a heavenly scent. Pulling out his tray, Orin set it down and kicked the oven door shut. The pastry had turned a pleasing brown color and steam lifted from the baked apples. Suddenly, Orin found himself fending off grasping hands. ”Careful now, they’re hot! Give them a few chimes to cool down why don’t you?” Fentya scolded them and shooed them away while Orin lifted the tray out of easy reach. Predictably, there were groans but they did as asked. When Orin judged enough time had passed for them to be safely consumed, he held it out to them. They snatched greedily, until only three remained. Fentya picked two up and handed one to Orin. ”Thank you miss, much obliged.” She smiled, before running off to join her friends. Orin set his and the final one aside and took the tray to be cleaned. As he immersed it in the soapy water, a second pair of hands joined him. Startled, Orin looked to see Aenysa beside him. She had slipped in unnoticed. She spoke in a barely audible whisper, clearing not wanting the kids to overhear. ”Thank you for today. I haven’t seen them this happy in quite a while. Winter isn’t the best season for them since they hate being cooped up indoors. Feel free to come back any time. I don’t even mind that you used up my cinnamon and let them cheat on their lessons.” Aenysa gave him a saucy wink as she dried her hands off and with an apple in her hand, taking a huge bite as she walked out again. ”You’re welcome!” Orin called belatedly. Finally, Orin took a bite of his own dish. He closed his eyes in bliss. He had positively outdone himself this time. Munching contently, Orin watched over his new friends as they happily ate each and every bite then started scraping the crumbs off the tables. Pushing off the counter, Orin placed himself in the center of them. ”I hate to leave you all, but I have to go. It was truly a pleasure.” With that, Orin prepared to exit. So, he was completely unprepared when small bodies suddenly mobbed him. ”Thank you Mr. Orin! Please come back soon!” Trish piped up, her small voice sweet. Orin felt tears prickle at the back of his eyes. They were happy tears. Still, he didn’t want to cry in front of them. That would make him lose all standing. Still, it was a heady feeling. ”I will,” Orin promised, meeting each and every one of their gazes. The two he had lent his dagger to returned it, and he slipped it back where it belonged. They grinned at him, clearly pleased to have been trusted with it. As he gathered his cloak from the entryway, they followed. When he went out in the cold, they stood outside and waved and called goodbye. Orin returned the wave until his stride took him around a corner and out of their sightline. There, he slumped against a wall and let the waterworks start. It felt good, cleansing almost, a reaffirmation of his own childhood. Perhaps Orin had just regained some of the innocence that he’d lost too soon. And Orin vowed to himself that he would return often and always.

[Katelyn Marks]

Due Rewards

“After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.”

― Philip Pullman

 

Orin

Skills
➢ Observation +5
➢ Socialization +5
➢ Rhetoric +3
➢ Cooking +4
➢ Teaching +2
➢ Leadership +3

Lores
➢ Location: The Welcome Home
➢ Aenysa Tieran: Runs the Welcome Home
➢ Relating to Orphans
➢ Cooking: Paring Apples
➢ Cooking: Removing Apple Cores
➢ Cooking: Sifting Flour
➢ Cooking: Apple Pastries
➢ Teaching: Instructing Children
➢ Fentya: Orphan
➢ Fentya: Budding Chef
➢ Trish: Orphan
➢ Trish: Skilled Artist
➢ Damien: Orphan
➢ Damien: Bookworm

Comments: A very excellent, thorough thread. Good job Orin. I have to say I question your decision to suddenly give little kids a dagger, but it didn't throw things off for me for more than a moment. You kept good stride with your posts, and I was able to give you quite a bit of experience for your detail and the way you interacted with the children. The ending was so sweet too, and I found myself wishing the whole time that Orin would just adopt Fentya, Trish, and Damien and be done with it!

If you have any concerns or questions about your rewards please feel free to send me a message. Also, please edit your original grade request and mark it as graded. Thank you and enjoy!