telephone prompt
Strawberry #11. Apron with Whipped Cream and MALT
Rating : G - Fluffy!
Timeframe : 1240-ish
Word Count : 256
Malt Prompt : Telephone - (highlight, so I don't spoil it for those still waiting) : Your MC is learning a new skill
Hey, whoever hasn't passed it on, get on with it! I tried to be patient, but it seems to be taking awhile for the prompt to go around.
Rune wrapped his tiny fingers around the lip of the counter and put all his strength into hanging onto it, as the tall stool teetered under his feet. He beamed up at Berna, who stopped her beating of the almond colored paste that filled the massive mixing bowl to wipe her hands on her apron, leaving stark white trails of powder on the heavily stained cloth.
Berna dipped a hand into the bowl and drew out a lump of sticky batter, which she offered to Rune. The stool gave a violent shake when Rune let go of the counter and he dove to grab it again, but Berna’s other giant hand came to rest on his back, holding him straight.
“Roll it into a ball,” she instructed, depositing the dough into his palm. It clung to everything, leaving bits of goo on all his fingers as he pressed them together and shifted them back and forth. After long moments of concentration, he pried one sticky hand from the other to examine his work.
“Perfect,” Berna said, taking it from him to deposit on the metal tray. Her flour dusted skirts gave a lurch under the force of another set of small hands, and both turned to spot Tish at her mother’s hip.
“When do we get to eat them?” said Tish.
“When they’re done,” said Berna, to which Tish scowled and scampered back out of the room. “Ready for another?” she asked Rune.
Batter covered fingers too deep in his mouth for words, Rune simply nodded.
Rating : G - Fluffy!
Timeframe : 1240-ish
Word Count : 256
Malt Prompt : Telephone - (highlight, so I don't spoil it for those still waiting) : Your MC is learning a new skill
Hey, whoever hasn't passed it on, get on with it! I tried to be patient, but it seems to be taking awhile for the prompt to go around.
Rune wrapped his tiny fingers around the lip of the counter and put all his strength into hanging onto it, as the tall stool teetered under his feet. He beamed up at Berna, who stopped her beating of the almond colored paste that filled the massive mixing bowl to wipe her hands on her apron, leaving stark white trails of powder on the heavily stained cloth.
Berna dipped a hand into the bowl and drew out a lump of sticky batter, which she offered to Rune. The stool gave a violent shake when Rune let go of the counter and he dove to grab it again, but Berna’s other giant hand came to rest on his back, holding him straight.
“Roll it into a ball,” she instructed, depositing the dough into his palm. It clung to everything, leaving bits of goo on all his fingers as he pressed them together and shifted them back and forth. After long moments of concentration, he pried one sticky hand from the other to examine his work.
“Perfect,” Berna said, taking it from him to deposit on the metal tray. Her flour dusted skirts gave a lurch under the force of another set of small hands, and both turned to spot Tish at her mother’s hip.
“When do we get to eat them?” said Tish.
“When they’re done,” said Berna, to which Tish scowled and scampered back out of the room. “Ready for another?” she asked Rune.
Batter covered fingers too deep in his mouth for words, Rune simply nodded.