[ leeks and caramels and pebbles :: closed/in progress ]
Characters: Throne/Teddy (
child_proteus , Nova/Orihime (
novagravitation , Want/Billy (
unlostsoul ); open to Argent.
Date/Time: A little bit before noon, July 11th.
Location: Throne and Argent's place; Section 4.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Throne promised Nova he'd help her bake a pie, offering up the swank kitchen accommodations of his place. Following both of their sudden and unexplained re-appearances, the boys decide they owe Nova an apology.
"Come on, come on," Throne muttered to himself, as he teetered on his tippy-toes vicariously. He had his arm buried elbow-deep into a high-sitting cabinet in the kitchen. Within it, his fingers were batting about blindly, crawling along for a distance only to swipe furiously, trying very hard to find what it was looking for and failing. He was about to completely give up when, finally, two of his fingers caught the smooth glass handle of something. "Gotcha," he whispered triumphantly and, bracing himself against the counter, withdrew his arm until finally he had both feet squarely on the ground. He turned the object over in his hands, smiling at it absently. A small, worn measuring cup, cracked fully down the length of its side, a small trophy from one of Throne's excursions to the Scrapyard which he had acquired specifically for this occasion.
Okay, so maybe it leaked a little when it held water, but still, it was better than nothing, and he hoped that Nova would appreciate the gesture. Setting it down upon the counter, he went about trying to gather other things as well. Even though he wasn't some master chef, he had discovered he at least knew his superficial way around the kitchen, and in doing so, had developed a strange habit of scavenging for random cooking utensils. Clattering his graceless way through the shelves, Throne unearthed cracked spoons and oddly bent whisks, small bowls with chipped rims, which sat nestled in a much larger bowl -- this one flawless, since he'd bought it himself.
Eventually, he stopped with his gathering and, slightly tired, leaned over the counter with his chin propped up by an elbow. To be honest, he was somewhat nervous about all this, but meeting people for the first time always made him feel that way. Nova, though, seemed like a really nice girl -- unapologetically sweet and earnest and a lot of other things that Bastet was decidedly not, and Throne wondered if today would usher another pretty girl -- a friend -- into his life. Of course, having to apologize for being a thoughtless ass wasn't really the first note that Throne would have liked to have struck. But, life in the 'Bowl had -- in more ways than one -- run away from him unexpectedly. It left this sort of thing inevitable and, because of circumstance, it had drug Want along with it in its wake. Poor guy.
Throne sighed and, swinging himself around, pulled himself up onto the counter with both arms. He passed the time thinking about exactly what he would say, how he would apologize, how he would make it up to her -- those sorts of things. Eventually, though, his mind wandered, and instead, found himself thinking about caramels instead.
Caramels, he thought, and smiled. Oh god, I'm so totally screwed.
child_proteus , Nova/Orihime (
novagravitation , Want/Billy (
unlostsoul ); open to Argent.
Date/Time: A little bit before noon, July 11th.
Location: Throne and Argent's place; Section 4.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Throne promised Nova he'd help her bake a pie, offering up the swank kitchen accommodations of his place. Following both of their sudden and unexplained re-appearances, the boys decide they owe Nova an apology.
"Come on, come on," Throne muttered to himself, as he teetered on his tippy-toes vicariously. He had his arm buried elbow-deep into a high-sitting cabinet in the kitchen. Within it, his fingers were batting about blindly, crawling along for a distance only to swipe furiously, trying very hard to find what it was looking for and failing. He was about to completely give up when, finally, two of his fingers caught the smooth glass handle of something. "Gotcha," he whispered triumphantly and, bracing himself against the counter, withdrew his arm until finally he had both feet squarely on the ground. He turned the object over in his hands, smiling at it absently. A small, worn measuring cup, cracked fully down the length of its side, a small trophy from one of Throne's excursions to the Scrapyard which he had acquired specifically for this occasion.
Okay, so maybe it leaked a little when it held water, but still, it was better than nothing, and he hoped that Nova would appreciate the gesture. Setting it down upon the counter, he went about trying to gather other things as well. Even though he wasn't some master chef, he had discovered he at least knew his superficial way around the kitchen, and in doing so, had developed a strange habit of scavenging for random cooking utensils. Clattering his graceless way through the shelves, Throne unearthed cracked spoons and oddly bent whisks, small bowls with chipped rims, which sat nestled in a much larger bowl -- this one flawless, since he'd bought it himself.
Eventually, he stopped with his gathering and, slightly tired, leaned over the counter with his chin propped up by an elbow. To be honest, he was somewhat nervous about all this, but meeting people for the first time always made him feel that way. Nova, though, seemed like a really nice girl -- unapologetically sweet and earnest and a lot of other things that Bastet was decidedly not, and Throne wondered if today would usher another pretty girl -- a friend -- into his life. Of course, having to apologize for being a thoughtless ass wasn't really the first note that Throne would have liked to have struck. But, life in the 'Bowl had -- in more ways than one -- run away from him unexpectedly. It left this sort of thing inevitable and, because of circumstance, it had drug Want along with it in its wake. Poor guy.
Throne sighed and, swinging himself around, pulled himself up onto the counter with both arms. He passed the time thinking about exactly what he would say, how he would apologize, how he would make it up to her -- those sorts of things. Eventually, though, his mind wandered, and instead, found himself thinking about caramels instead.
Caramels, he thought, and smiled. Oh god, I'm so totally screwed.