(no subject)
WHO: Alucard (toothsomehound) and Integra Hellsing (damnabletart
WHAT: Alucard makes soup while meditating on guns, and Integra drops by.
WHERE: Alucard's crazy-ass house
WHEN: A few days after the Halloween Shooting
The gun he'd found left on the bed upstairs was sitting up with his own. Alucard meditated on the shining cold silver of that weapon, cracking some eggs and dropping them into a pot of soup. He added some chicken to the pot as well, frown deepening. Tossing Cincinel the eggshells, Lazarus the scraps of fat he had trimmed away, he paced away from the stove to look at his slowly growing spice rack. As austere and barren as the rest of the house was, the kitchen was the only one where he had begun to collect tasteful furniture and objects.
Selecting some fresh basil one of the women down the street had gifted him with this morning, he turned back to the counter and began to dice it. The gun had to be Hellsing's. It was the only explanation- he used two handguns only. The rest of his guns were sniping rifles. The problem, then, was that he had no desire to hold onto such a petite gun and no way to contact the Hellsing woman again.
Putting the gun out of his head for now, he dropped the basil in, waited a moment, then took a spoonful out. He was curious to taste it- the soup was a personally formulated recipe.
WHAT: Alucard makes soup while meditating on guns, and Integra drops by.
WHERE: Alucard's crazy-ass house
WHEN: A few days after the Halloween Shooting
The gun he'd found left on the bed upstairs was sitting up with his own. Alucard meditated on the shining cold silver of that weapon, cracking some eggs and dropping them into a pot of soup. He added some chicken to the pot as well, frown deepening. Tossing Cincinel the eggshells, Lazarus the scraps of fat he had trimmed away, he paced away from the stove to look at his slowly growing spice rack. As austere and barren as the rest of the house was, the kitchen was the only one where he had begun to collect tasteful furniture and objects.
Selecting some fresh basil one of the women down the street had gifted him with this morning, he turned back to the counter and began to dice it. The gun had to be Hellsing's. It was the only explanation- he used two handguns only. The rest of his guns were sniping rifles. The problem, then, was that he had no desire to hold onto such a petite gun and no way to contact the Hellsing woman again.
Putting the gun out of his head for now, he dropped the basil in, waited a moment, then took a spoonful out. He was curious to taste it- the soup was a personally formulated recipe.