Day One, Evening
After speaking with Mac, Charlotte had found the bread rose enough for her to punch it down and knead it one more time before leaving it to rise again in some battered bake-ware. While that was going on, she ducked down into the cellar to grab a lamp for herself, filled it with oil, and took some candles. Fear of the dark was still fear of the dark, and the house already didn't usher too much light in. She wanted to be prepared when the sun set.
Hours before the sun set, the bread had risen sufficiently and she stuck a log in the wood burning stove, cultivated a fire, and then slid the pans of bread in to bake. As the wonderful smell of baking bread filled the main floor of the house, Charlotte realized there would be no butter. And that sucked. Fresh bread without butter, well, what was the point? But there were some sealed jars of honey with bits of honeycomb in them in the cellar. It would have to do.
The bread cooled while Charlotte pumped some water into a bowl, grabbed a brick of soap, and went into the room that it turned out she was sharing with Lem. She did a quick scrub up, including her bare feet, and returned to to the kitchen just as the bread was done cooling. Mac's breakfast that morning was good, but there was something fortifying about fresh baked bread to Charlotte. It reminded her of home and her mom and the flour fight she once got into when she was in Young Woman's a loooong time ago. Of course, she invited the others to eat. The bread was good enough for her, but if they wanted to make something else for dinner, she wasn't gonna stop them.
Her lamp was lit as the sun disappeared, and the entire house turned pitch black, with the exception of lamps carried by the occupants. Candelabras and some oils lamps hung on the walls, but for now, Charlotte was good carrying a lamp. As she left the kitchen, seeing the dark loom around her, she called out to any of the other occupants that might listen. "Anyone think we should light the candles or the lamps, or is it every man-slash-woman for themselves?" Which, you had to admit, was a daunting aspect in a huge dark creepy house.
Hours before the sun set, the bread had risen sufficiently and she stuck a log in the wood burning stove, cultivated a fire, and then slid the pans of bread in to bake. As the wonderful smell of baking bread filled the main floor of the house, Charlotte realized there would be no butter. And that sucked. Fresh bread without butter, well, what was the point? But there were some sealed jars of honey with bits of honeycomb in them in the cellar. It would have to do.
The bread cooled while Charlotte pumped some water into a bowl, grabbed a brick of soap, and went into the room that it turned out she was sharing with Lem. She did a quick scrub up, including her bare feet, and returned to to the kitchen just as the bread was done cooling. Mac's breakfast that morning was good, but there was something fortifying about fresh baked bread to Charlotte. It reminded her of home and her mom and the flour fight she once got into when she was in Young Woman's a loooong time ago. Of course, she invited the others to eat. The bread was good enough for her, but if they wanted to make something else for dinner, she wasn't gonna stop them.
Her lamp was lit as the sun disappeared, and the entire house turned pitch black, with the exception of lamps carried by the occupants. Candelabras and some oils lamps hung on the walls, but for now, Charlotte was good carrying a lamp. As she left the kitchen, seeing the dark loom around her, she called out to any of the other occupants that might listen. "Anyone think we should light the candles or the lamps, or is it every man-slash-woman for themselves?" Which, you had to admit, was a daunting aspect in a huge dark creepy house.