Meal Post
I had a craving for Indian food and I knew that Harkness was hoarding spices. Far be it from me to begrudge anyone their hoarding-- so long as they didn't mind when my touch got light. Jack and Logan were moving and I only asked if I could use the things after I'd already stolen them.
I had a lovely curry of bird and onions bubbling away. There was tikka masala and naan and dal makahni and a few other things I'd thrown together lay out for people to take. I was in the process of making a second batch of rice and putting the finishing touches on a vegetable curry that promised to be hot as could be.
William played contentedly in his playpen while I cooked. I would have never thought I'd be so at home in the kitchen. I'd stolen food since I was fourteen and so the very fact that I could work in the kitchen without pilfering all the cans and fruits was amazing. Much as I hated to admit it, this place was good for me. I had plenty to eat. I had Daniel. I had William. I had a home and friends and it wasn't totally without luxuries like television and hot water.
It wasn't the luxury of the Goa'uld, but it would do. Those were the days, when I was a queen. Captive, yes, but the power...it was equally repulsive and heartening. I was unable to admit that sometimes, just sometimes, I didn't hate what had happened with Qetesh, even though I knew I was so much better off without her. I detested thinking of my past. It was much better to think of what I had now. Yes, definitely better to live in the moment than dwell on the past.
"The spicy dish will be ready in just a moment," I said over my shoulder. I could hear people coming in and grabbing plates. I must have gotten lost in thought about the Goa'uld, about Qetesh, about my past. I was running behind.
I had a lovely curry of bird and onions bubbling away. There was tikka masala and naan and dal makahni and a few other things I'd thrown together lay out for people to take. I was in the process of making a second batch of rice and putting the finishing touches on a vegetable curry that promised to be hot as could be.
William played contentedly in his playpen while I cooked. I would have never thought I'd be so at home in the kitchen. I'd stolen food since I was fourteen and so the very fact that I could work in the kitchen without pilfering all the cans and fruits was amazing. Much as I hated to admit it, this place was good for me. I had plenty to eat. I had Daniel. I had William. I had a home and friends and it wasn't totally without luxuries like television and hot water.
It wasn't the luxury of the Goa'uld, but it would do. Those were the days, when I was a queen. Captive, yes, but the power...it was equally repulsive and heartening. I was unable to admit that sometimes, just sometimes, I didn't hate what had happened with Qetesh, even though I knew I was so much better off without her. I detested thinking of my past. It was much better to think of what I had now. Yes, definitely better to live in the moment than dwell on the past.
"The spicy dish will be ready in just a moment," I said over my shoulder. I could hear people coming in and grabbing plates. I must have gotten lost in thought about the Goa'uld, about Qetesh, about my past. I was running behind.