... And then Ladon set everything on fire.
Who: rustigedraak and occupants of house 15 and/or anyone nearby with a sense of smell.
What: Ladon's cooking. Oh God, I am so sorry.
Where: House 15, 4th floor kitchen.
When: Morning.
Warnings: Ladon has a potty mouth and he eats charcoal. Also, reply in whichever format you want to log in, I'll match.
Ladon had been grateful to find a kitchen in the flat he'd appeared in. It had almost been as good a discovery as the mirror that showed him his world, his people, still safe and still unharmed. After all, there were few people Ladon really cared about, and once he knew they weren't any worse off than before he wound up here, he could relax a little.
Only a little, though. Whoever made this place could still be fucking with him.
He'd gotten up as early as usual, found he could go about his daily routine fairly smoothly here. It had been a couple days since he'd eaten, and so he set about making breakfast. Unfortunately for his housemates, that meant that the very ominous smell of practically calcified food was going to fill the air shortly. Ladon in the kitchen meant the nearby radius-- likely the houses and streets near by as well-- would smell like a five alarm fire.
He hummed to himself, a lit cigarette in his mouth and a cotton apron over his clothes, and flipped jet black pancakes and eggs on the griddle in his kitchen.
What: Ladon's cooking. Oh God, I am so sorry.
Where: House 15, 4th floor kitchen.
When: Morning.
Warnings: Ladon has a potty mouth and he eats charcoal. Also, reply in whichever format you want to log in, I'll match.
Ladon had been grateful to find a kitchen in the flat he'd appeared in. It had almost been as good a discovery as the mirror that showed him his world, his people, still safe and still unharmed. After all, there were few people Ladon really cared about, and once he knew they weren't any worse off than before he wound up here, he could relax a little.
Only a little, though. Whoever made this place could still be fucking with him.
He'd gotten up as early as usual, found he could go about his daily routine fairly smoothly here. It had been a couple days since he'd eaten, and so he set about making breakfast. Unfortunately for his housemates, that meant that the very ominous smell of practically calcified food was going to fill the air shortly. Ladon in the kitchen meant the nearby radius-- likely the houses and streets near by as well-- would smell like a five alarm fire.
He hummed to himself, a lit cigarette in his mouth and a cotton apron over his clothes, and flipped jet black pancakes and eggs on the griddle in his kitchen.