☆-- the lady and her keeper. (Semi-Closed) - ON-GOING
WHO: Rhode Kamelot (dolcezzamacabra), Sebastian Michaelis (howcaniserveyou), open also to anyone else who would plausibly be in Rhode's house.
WHAT: Bonding time between the mistress and her butler.
WHERE: Rhode's kitchen.
WHEN: After Sebastian decides a party is in order.
Sebastian had always been something of a multi-tasker. Perhaps it was something that he had simply been trained to do since childhood, or perhaps it was simply a skill bred of having run generation after generation of complicated households. Whatever the case was, Sebastian was a one man army in the kitchen of his young mistress, Rhode Kamelot.
He had long discarded his typical black jacket, his suspenders dark against the white of his shirt, and his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. There might have been a smudge of flour or two on his face, but regardless of the quantity of work, Sebastian had a way of making everything look effortless. Orderly. As if he was follow steps already plotted out in his head, timed to perfection.
You got to be that good, after three hundred years or so of being a butler.
Sebastian paused over a double-boiler at the stove to stir the chocolate melting inside with a rubber spatula. On the counter, there was a generous bowl of strawberries, and beside that, a cake that looked as if all it was lacking was a few final trimmings.
WHAT: Bonding time between the mistress and her butler.
WHERE: Rhode's kitchen.
WHEN: After Sebastian decides a party is in order.
Sebastian had always been something of a multi-tasker. Perhaps it was something that he had simply been trained to do since childhood, or perhaps it was simply a skill bred of having run generation after generation of complicated households. Whatever the case was, Sebastian was a one man army in the kitchen of his young mistress, Rhode Kamelot.
He had long discarded his typical black jacket, his suspenders dark against the white of his shirt, and his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. There might have been a smudge of flour or two on his face, but regardless of the quantity of work, Sebastian had a way of making everything look effortless. Orderly. As if he was follow steps already plotted out in his head, timed to perfection.
You got to be that good, after three hundred years or so of being a butler.
Sebastian paused over a double-boiler at the stove to stir the chocolate melting inside with a rubber spatula. On the counter, there was a generous bowl of strawberries, and beside that, a cake that looked as if all it was lacking was a few final trimmings.
