(no subject)
(Pre-heat oven to 180°C or 350°F)
There were a few places that Fiona felt at home in (Peel 1 kg (2 lb) potatoes, then boil or steam until tender and drain well). Amber, of course, and the sprawling Beauregard palace where her room overlooked the sea (Mash them while they’re still hot,). Libraries, with their scents of old pages and leather and knowledge, (then add 75g (2 2/3 oz) butter) always made her feel relaxed, and so did studies lined with books and diagrams (three eggs, three egg yolks) on the walls. Maghrib (a pinch of nutmeg), once, and though it was no longer what it had been, (300g (10 ½ oz) butter) should Fiona walk into another desert she would feel instantly at home. There was another place (sea salt and fresh-ground pepper), too, where Fiona would instantly feel at home (and stir until mixed).
(Divide into four;)
The kitchen.
(roll each into 2cm (3/4 in) thick sausages)
Which was where she was (on a floured bench top) when Brand knocked on the window and made her jump. He grinned and (Cut into 2cm lengths) waved at her with such good humour that she couldn’t help but smile back before gesturing for him to go around to the front door. Wiping her floury hands on her apron, she ran to the front door and opened it. Brand took one look at her appearance (old apron, floury hands and a smudge on her cheek, glowing green eyes and a smile from mixing and stirring), and then bowed elegantly.
“May I intrude on for you dinner, dear sister?” He said, hopefully and smoothly, as if he had not called her a useless dabbler who did nothing but draw like a lady and spread her legs like a whore. And she smiled and nodded and said, “I’ll be annoyed if you don’t,” before letting him kiss her cheek as if she had not called him a pompous, pretentious jackass who did nothing except swan about being a moody artist and paint himself into attention-seeking depression. Relationships with Brand tended to be like that, really. Manic-depressive was too simple a term to describe him, but it was easier then trying to explain how ‘moody’ and ‘highly-strung’ and ‘extremist’ didn’t quite cover it. Still, when he was in a good mood he was utterly charming and delightful, not to mention that Fiona had something of a mother’s (take care of the boy, Fi) fondness for him.
“Nice place, Fi,” her younger brother said as he hung his coat up by the front door and shut it behind him. Fiona tossed him a smile over her shoulder as she walked back to the kitchen.
“Thanks. Aunt Ella found it for me, a few years ago. It’s small, but…I like it.”
(Cut tomatoes into quarters)
“Small, and yet….a surprisingly large kitchen for one person.”
(lay on a baking tray skin side down)
“I’m talented at taking up space. So, make yourself at home, there are chairs on the other side of that bench and…how is the family?”
(drizzle with olive oil)
“Surprisingly, no new deaths.”
(and season with sea salt, fresh ground pepper and sugar)
“Surprisingly?”
(Roast in a preheated oven for 30 minutes.)
“Well, it’s all a bit tense at the moment, my darling Fiona. Oft I wish I had the courage to Shadow-walk and find a little place where no one would bother me, like yourself and Random, and seclude myself for decades. I also feel that Benedict may soon join your ranks of discontent hermits-”
(Add 2 diced onions, 2-3 sprigs of thyme, salt and pepper)
“I’m too pretty to be a hermit.”
(Cook over a low heat for 20-30 minutes or)
“-as opposed to Eric, whom you could not move from Amber with a team of horses, even working in tandem with harem girls and wine. Alas,” he added as Fiona snorted with laughter, “my ambition has me deeply entrenched in our fair birthplace, and I fear to leave for extended periods at this moment.”
(until onions are soft and slightly coloured)
“And the others?”
(Turn heat up)
“Our full-brother Bleys is at the north seas, Gérard is at the south, and Caine is annoyed at the former even as he has no opinion of the latter. He is at Amber at the moment, too. Wenching and being sulky and sardonic, as Caine does.
(add 150g (5oz) diced pancetta)
“I can imagine. Julian?” The knife in her hand flashed as she diced the meat, and for a long moment Brand just watched her with his sharp green eyes.
(Cook for 3-4 minutes)
“Arden. Where else? From all reports he’s as cold and petty as normal, hunting also as well as normal. Had an interesting altercation with - he hasn’t spoken to you?”
(until pancetta is crispy)
“No.”
(Add roasted tomatoes)
“Well, the man is a fool, then.” Fiona’s jaw was clenched, not a lot, not so that anyone who didn’t know her would tell. But Brand was Brand, and her baby brother and if nothing else he did know Fiona’s moods. He smiled faintly.
(parsley and parmigiano)
“As for our sisters…Deirdre is at Amber, adding to the general feeling of discontent. Mourning for Corwin, although if anyone asks she just passes it off as a ‘mood that we delicater sorts are prone to getting.’”
(Check seasoning.)
Dryly, “Oh, really? And people wonder why she irritates me.” Luckily, Brand was too young to remember the time (Bring a large pot of water to a boil) where Fiona had adored their oldest sister, had followed her around and mimicked her. No, Brand’s earliest memories of Fiona were of her being a short-haired, brilliant-minded tomboy who only really respected Dworkin and Oberon.
(Add a good pinch of salt)
And that suited her just fine.
(Plunge the gnocchi into boiling salty water)
"Flora seems to have found a little Shadow to her liking, and Llewella is, as ever, in Rebma." Brand pauses, mock-serious. "Is that everyone?"
(allow them to rise to the surface)
"I think so."
(and cook for a further 2-3 minutes)
"Excellent. And, after dinner, there is something I think you might be interested in. A...place, I've found."
(Toss sauce with cooked gnocchi)
Fiona glanced at him. Not a tall man, pale-skinned and red-haired and green-eyed, but for a moment those eyes, so much like her own, were cold and ambitious and, somehow, so terribly pleased.
(and serve)
"Ever been to the Courts of Chaos, Fi?"
There were a few places that Fiona felt at home in (Peel 1 kg (2 lb) potatoes, then boil or steam until tender and drain well). Amber, of course, and the sprawling Beauregard palace where her room overlooked the sea (Mash them while they’re still hot,). Libraries, with their scents of old pages and leather and knowledge, (then add 75g (2 2/3 oz) butter) always made her feel relaxed, and so did studies lined with books and diagrams (three eggs, three egg yolks) on the walls. Maghrib (a pinch of nutmeg), once, and though it was no longer what it had been, (300g (10 ½ oz) butter) should Fiona walk into another desert she would feel instantly at home. There was another place (sea salt and fresh-ground pepper), too, where Fiona would instantly feel at home (and stir until mixed).
(Divide into four;)
The kitchen.
(roll each into 2cm (3/4 in) thick sausages)
Which was where she was (on a floured bench top) when Brand knocked on the window and made her jump. He grinned and (Cut into 2cm lengths) waved at her with such good humour that she couldn’t help but smile back before gesturing for him to go around to the front door. Wiping her floury hands on her apron, she ran to the front door and opened it. Brand took one look at her appearance (old apron, floury hands and a smudge on her cheek, glowing green eyes and a smile from mixing and stirring), and then bowed elegantly.
“May I intrude on for you dinner, dear sister?” He said, hopefully and smoothly, as if he had not called her a useless dabbler who did nothing but draw like a lady and spread her legs like a whore. And she smiled and nodded and said, “I’ll be annoyed if you don’t,” before letting him kiss her cheek as if she had not called him a pompous, pretentious jackass who did nothing except swan about being a moody artist and paint himself into attention-seeking depression. Relationships with Brand tended to be like that, really. Manic-depressive was too simple a term to describe him, but it was easier then trying to explain how ‘moody’ and ‘highly-strung’ and ‘extremist’ didn’t quite cover it. Still, when he was in a good mood he was utterly charming and delightful, not to mention that Fiona had something of a mother’s (take care of the boy, Fi) fondness for him.
“Nice place, Fi,” her younger brother said as he hung his coat up by the front door and shut it behind him. Fiona tossed him a smile over her shoulder as she walked back to the kitchen.
“Thanks. Aunt Ella found it for me, a few years ago. It’s small, but…I like it.”
(Cut tomatoes into quarters)
“Small, and yet….a surprisingly large kitchen for one person.”
(lay on a baking tray skin side down)
“I’m talented at taking up space. So, make yourself at home, there are chairs on the other side of that bench and…how is the family?”
(drizzle with olive oil)
“Surprisingly, no new deaths.”
(and season with sea salt, fresh ground pepper and sugar)
“Surprisingly?”
(Roast in a preheated oven for 30 minutes.)
“Well, it’s all a bit tense at the moment, my darling Fiona. Oft I wish I had the courage to Shadow-walk and find a little place where no one would bother me, like yourself and Random, and seclude myself for decades. I also feel that Benedict may soon join your ranks of discontent hermits-”
(Add 2 diced onions, 2-3 sprigs of thyme, salt and pepper)
“I’m too pretty to be a hermit.”
(Cook over a low heat for 20-30 minutes or)
“-as opposed to Eric, whom you could not move from Amber with a team of horses, even working in tandem with harem girls and wine. Alas,” he added as Fiona snorted with laughter, “my ambition has me deeply entrenched in our fair birthplace, and I fear to leave for extended periods at this moment.”
(until onions are soft and slightly coloured)
“And the others?”
(Turn heat up)
“Our full-brother Bleys is at the north seas, Gérard is at the south, and Caine is annoyed at the former even as he has no opinion of the latter. He is at Amber at the moment, too. Wenching and being sulky and sardonic, as Caine does.
(add 150g (5oz) diced pancetta)
“I can imagine. Julian?” The knife in her hand flashed as she diced the meat, and for a long moment Brand just watched her with his sharp green eyes.
(Cook for 3-4 minutes)
“Arden. Where else? From all reports he’s as cold and petty as normal, hunting also as well as normal. Had an interesting altercation with - he hasn’t spoken to you?”
(until pancetta is crispy)
“No.”
(Add roasted tomatoes)
“Well, the man is a fool, then.” Fiona’s jaw was clenched, not a lot, not so that anyone who didn’t know her would tell. But Brand was Brand, and her baby brother and if nothing else he did know Fiona’s moods. He smiled faintly.
(parsley and parmigiano)
“As for our sisters…Deirdre is at Amber, adding to the general feeling of discontent. Mourning for Corwin, although if anyone asks she just passes it off as a ‘mood that we delicater sorts are prone to getting.’”
(Check seasoning.)
Dryly, “Oh, really? And people wonder why she irritates me.” Luckily, Brand was too young to remember the time (Bring a large pot of water to a boil) where Fiona had adored their oldest sister, had followed her around and mimicked her. No, Brand’s earliest memories of Fiona were of her being a short-haired, brilliant-minded tomboy who only really respected Dworkin and Oberon.
(Add a good pinch of salt)
And that suited her just fine.
(Plunge the gnocchi into boiling salty water)
"Flora seems to have found a little Shadow to her liking, and Llewella is, as ever, in Rebma." Brand pauses, mock-serious. "Is that everyone?"
(allow them to rise to the surface)
"I think so."
(and cook for a further 2-3 minutes)
"Excellent. And, after dinner, there is something I think you might be interested in. A...place, I've found."
(Toss sauce with cooked gnocchi)
Fiona glanced at him. Not a tall man, pale-skinned and red-haired and green-eyed, but for a moment those eyes, so much like her own, were cold and ambitious and, somehow, so terribly pleased.
(and serve)
"Ever been to the Courts of Chaos, Fi?"