Easter Eggs!

[border_princess]

Helen is sitting in the kitchen She has changed her clothing to something a little more rich, but is, for all purposes, still a boy. The table is littered with tools, jars of dye, and piles of hollowed eggs. She picks one and begins to draw designs onto the shell. Every so often she stops, lets it soak in one of the dyes, removes it, makes more

Comments

[three_smiles]

Ooo! Michael saw Matrena doing this, he remembers, once upon a time--and he scoots over to look, although what he does is somewhat more dignified than scooting. "Hello."

[border_princess]

This would be the Helen beam of 'Ooo!Yay!Michael'-ness. "Hello, Michael!"

[three_smiles]

"Are you well?"

[border_princess]

"Yes. Much better than I was thanks to you."

[three_smiles]

"I am glad you are." His eyes stir with some sort of feeling.

[border_princess]

"Are you almost prepared for Pascha? I know I have a long ways to go." She gestures a little helplessly to the very small pile of eggs. With all of the women in her old household they could sometimes make almost sixty a day.

[three_smiles]

"Matrena taught me to cook for Pascha, but I have never done what you do now."

[border_princess]

"Do you want to try it?"

[three_smiles]

"Do you permit it?"

[border_princess]

She laughs. "Of course! Why would I deny you?"

[three_smiles]

"When I first came to live with Men I did not know what I might touch and what I might not, and several times Matrena had cause to reprimand me. I did not know whether it would be well for me to do this." He looks almost shy, if such a thing were possible.

[border_princess]

"Well, don't worry. Sit down and I will show you how to make pysanky."

[three_smiles]

Michaels cannot eeee, but if they could-- He sits down at once.

[border_princess]

"Do as I do." She hands Michael an egg and a stylus. "First you fill the kistka with beeswax," she scoops some into her own and then holds it over the candle falme until the wax is slightly melted. "Then you fill in all the lines and spaces on the egg that you wish to remain white." She starts drawing the preliminary lines of a star on her own egg.

[three_smiles]

He nods, and then, with great concentration, holds his kistka over the candle; and then, a moment later, begins draws a pattern with the wax.

[border_princess]

Helen continues with her own and purposefully does not look at Michael's because sometimes the designs may be private. But eventually curiousity wins. "What shall yours have on it?"