60th of Summer, 519
All houses settle. In the morning they creak like old men as Syna thaws their frosted bones, sigh as cold air escapes through the flue in grumpy huffs and complain through the moans that rise from the floors and vibrate along the walls. Even the Infinity Manor was not immune to such early morning noises, Madeira had to realize as she padded barefoot around the kitchen. But that was okay, it was just the house settling. For whatever it could get.
"You may help, but I will not let you cook" the Spiritist put her metaphorical foot down as she kicked the belly of the stove closed with a bang. "You don't even eat!"
A womph of hot air and a puff of sparks shot up through the stove's iron grating as the colony of spiders that had made their cottony home inside went up in flames. The hardened Spiritist hoped on the spot in fright and cursed lustily, beating bare handed a few stray sparks from the front of her pink silk nightdress and the hair that hung tightly braided over her shoulder. Behind her the rhythmic popping of the warming window panes sounded almost like laughter.
It was the fourth bell, and time for the dawn rest. The nature of Lhavit, with its three hour days and mid day naps, made keeping a schedule impossible. Which was just how the former Avalad liked it. She had returned not twenty chimes ago from a night class with her private pupil. It had gone well, and now hungry and full of misplaced confidence she was ready to try to cook her ragtag family a meal for the first time. Afterwards she would climb up to bed and sleep away the morning. Though she wasn't sure if the twins were up, or if Lani, Allister or Jomi were even home; she promised herself she was going to cook a meal for them so that's exactly what she was going to do. Maybe the wafting scent of this delicious food she was about to serve would summon the living like her soulmist summoned ghosts.
"What? No. I don't suppose we'll ever eat the chickens. You and Jomi are too attached." Madeira addressed the empty air as she verbally answered the house's silent question. "Eggs would be nice, though. How about omelettes and salad? That seems... doable. Maybe some toast as well. There's honey somewhere. And sausages."
Still muttering half to herself and half to the house, Madeira pushed aside the bundle of drying bones and a jar of congealing blood to reach the back of the pantry for a rope of garlic and a wrapped stick of butter. From the ice chest she grabbed a leafy head of only slightly wilted spinach, carrots, peppers and green beans. Then bundling all this onto the counter surface, she ducked underneath to reach into the root cupboard. Only after a confused chime surface with messy handfuls of potatoes and onions, each of them already diced. Madeira paused, staring into her hands as pieces of potato rolled around the floor.
"Thank you?"
The house hummed its self-satisfied contentment.
There used to be a time when such things as cooking was left to servants, back when she lived in the Craven manor. Madeira found herself missing those times as she struggled to peel and dice the garlic. Even as early as a season ago she was still able to keep most of her family fed without such fuss. Back then she had the breast milk, soulmist and dijed produced from her body that was sufficient for eighty percent of everyone who was under (or indeed was) her roof. But that wasn't enough anymore, and now an entire new set of skills had to be learned just to keep everyone healthy.
Throwing a heavy cast iron pan onto the heated stove, she dropped in a slice of butter and a load of garlic and patted herself on the back. Now she was cooking! This wasn't so hard.