[Thread] Baking Cookies
Characters: AU Tenjoin Asuka, open to whoever.
Where: Paj-Ennea, specifically the kitchen
When: Mid-afternoon-ish.
Summary: In an attempt to, hopefully, bring brighter spirits to the compound, Asuka intends to bake simple cookies for everyone. But having never cooked anything of this magnitude before, she could use a little help. (Not that she ( Read more... )
Where: Paj-Ennea, specifically the kitchen
When: Mid-afternoon-ish.
Summary: In an attempt to, hopefully, bring brighter spirits to the compound, Asuka intends to bake simple cookies for everyone. But having never cooked anything of this magnitude before, she could use a little help. (Not that she ( Read more... )
Military leaders. She knew those. Had watched, watched and observed, listened and waited while news drifted in--through the mouths of scientists, the thoughts of visiting politicians, the documents in sealed envelopes. What they were was nothing like this.
And so she left that small-confined-tiny space and she explored, first with her mind, mapping out the rooms, the floors, the occupants-fellows-neighbors, then she grew bored enough with the slow movements of time to reach out with her own self. She had legs this time--the narrow hallways-walkways-pathways before one room to another were not enough to move about comfortably with grandeur. Even Jenova knew to choose functionality before form on relevant occasions.
And so that was how she ended up wandering the halls, slipping past rows and rows of closed doors until finally she found one with the door swung wide open, the lights-bright-sharp all on and cheerily lit. This was not the lab with the white lights and the blue sparks. This was warm. Yellow. And she moved forwards to look in.
There was someone in there. Reaching out with her mind, she felt the connection with the webwork of the girl's mind--an easy alternative so that she need not speak. What are you doing? she asked.
It had been a long time since she had slept and healed and lain dormant only to listen and watch. To experience was a new thing, and she found that was curious.
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Jenova sidled further into the room--concepts such as intrusion and private property were meaningless to her... incomprehensible human foolishness for those who simply did not know-understand-comprehend the virtues of sharing.
Memories filtered into her mind. Not her own of course, but gleaned knowledge, old thoughts and memories from minds long dead and burned to ash. Billions. Jenova had traveled far and she had traveled long. Humans and their words, their ability to encompass exactly what they meant in one saying. She knew so many different ones, brown and white and sprinkled with red, aisles and aisles of them in brightly-colored packaging, price check in aisle five--
How do you this? she asked instead, turning glowing eyes at the bowl in her hands. What do you do?
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It shouldn't have come as all that much surprise that there were worlds out there where people didn't know what cookies were or how to make them, but somehow it did still manage to surprise her a little bit.
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Why then this portioning of consumables? Why not take as much as one could make, stave off that hunger as quickly, efficiently, as possible?
These cookies... if they are used to feed on, to be sustained by... Why make them so small-tiny-insignificant? Why so many little ones in the stead of one great one?
If she was to stay here, if she was to work her plots, her machinations, here, she needed to understand their ways. Needed to know-comprehend-conquer.
But even after veritable millennia of consuming their accumulated knowledge, humans could still be such difficult creatures to understand.
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"Well," she replied, "cookies are... they're not really the kind of food that someone would live off of. They're more of a food to have on special occasions, and to give as gifts for those occasions. Part of the point is to share them with others, which is why a lot of smaller cookies are made instead of one big one. That, and it takes less time to cook them when they're smaller, I think."
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For a moment, she hesitated. Never before had she dirtied her hands with mundane-boring-human tasks--always before she had floated-waited-watched in her glass coffin, reaching out her thought to others who would fulfill her wishes.
But perhaps that needed changing. They had wandered-scattered-strayed. Something needed to be changed.
Will you teach me? she inquired finally. Will you allow me to help-assist-accompany you in the making?
Perhaps this notion of giving 'gifts' could not hurt.
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Truthfully, Jenova was not comfortable with this situation. It felt beneath her. Demeaning. Less than what is expected of a goddess. Especially since it so required-needed-necessitated orders and instructions from a human.
And yet... did she not also know-remember-understand the act of baking cookies? Was it not an activity long known as one befitting a Mother to participate in?
It all may turn out all right after all.
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She stared at the bowl, at the clumpy mass of substance... a small, chunky little monstrosity that reminded Jenova sharply of the scientists-thinkers-deceivers and their early experimentation, their first creations. The ones that had been as a random joining of flesh and bone and blood and organ, nothing human, nothing alien, but pulsating, alive even as they had burn-burn-burned it into nothingness.
The first children by those white coats. That was what this mass of cookie dough reminded her of.
And somehow, that did not seem right. I can. It will fix-mend-reform the deformities. Make it seamless and the same.
She would not allow this one, this lump of thoughtless matter, to burn as the others had.
(OOC: Sorry for previous post, wrong journal.)
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