(no subject)
Flavor of the Day - 2/1/09 - Victuals
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : fall 1255
Word Count : 521
Word of the Day : Victuals - food or provisions, esp. for humans
The door swung in and Rune’s jaw fell. Drops of thick, red paste adorned every visible surface of the kitchen. The counter, the stove, the walls. He cast a nervous glance above. Yes, even the ceiling. How did one spray food on the ceiling?
“What,” he asked of the redhead calmly standing at the very heart of the mess, “do you think you’re doing in my kitchen?”
Lyssa turned her attention from the steaming pot before her to stare at him, more of the substance spattered across her face like tiny red freckles. “Your kitchen?” she said, arms folded stiffly over her chest. The spray continued over well defined and prominently displayed curves all the way to the point at which they met with the top of a no less soiled apron.
Rune swallowed hard, crossing his own arms in what he hoped was an intimidating, or at least confident, manner. “Yes, my kitchen.”
She turned back to the pot with a snort. Rune heaved a sigh and crossed the room. He bit back a groan as he spied the half dozen or so jars of spices spread out over the counter beside the stove, their contents scattered about to mingle with the drops of red. More than a few questions as to whether she had any respect for anything at all came to mind, none of which were likely to get a satisfactory answer. “What are you making?” he said instead.
Lyssa jabbed a wooden spoon into the bubbling pot and whirled round to face him. Rune chewed his lip as more of the red paste slid off the spoon to splatter against the floor. “Taste?” said Lyssa, pressing herself and the steaming spoon closer.
Rune took as step instinctively back as she drew uncomfortably near. Frowning, Lyssa angled the spoon towards his mouth. He grabbed the handle, at least an inch away from where her hand was curled around it. Lyssa’s lips twitched but she said nothing as he gently relieved her of the spoon and brought it to his lips himself.
He closed his mouth over the spoon. The sauce was rich, the balance of spices just right. “Well?” said Lyssa, as if she needed more of an answer than the fact that he was licking the spoon clean.
He paused to return her grin, warmth touching his cheeks. “It’s good,” he said. “Really good. But does it have to be such a mess?”
Lyssa yanked the spoon back out of his grasp with a snort. “Relax,” she said. “I’ll clean it up.” She thrust the spoon back into the pot with a force that sent another spray of sauce into the air. “Such a fuss,“ she muttered to herself as she stirred. “You’d think it was your kitchen or something.”
“But-“ His jaw dropped again. “It is…” He eyed the mess for a moment, his hand snaking its way around the back of his neck. “Or it was.” Copper curls bobbed before him with a soft snicker, and Rune frowned. “Don’t forget the ceiling,” he said, forcing his hands into his pockets as he left the room.
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : fall 1255
Word Count : 521
Word of the Day : Victuals - food or provisions, esp. for humans
The door swung in and Rune’s jaw fell. Drops of thick, red paste adorned every visible surface of the kitchen. The counter, the stove, the walls. He cast a nervous glance above. Yes, even the ceiling. How did one spray food on the ceiling?
“What,” he asked of the redhead calmly standing at the very heart of the mess, “do you think you’re doing in my kitchen?”
Lyssa turned her attention from the steaming pot before her to stare at him, more of the substance spattered across her face like tiny red freckles. “Your kitchen?” she said, arms folded stiffly over her chest. The spray continued over well defined and prominently displayed curves all the way to the point at which they met with the top of a no less soiled apron.
Rune swallowed hard, crossing his own arms in what he hoped was an intimidating, or at least confident, manner. “Yes, my kitchen.”
She turned back to the pot with a snort. Rune heaved a sigh and crossed the room. He bit back a groan as he spied the half dozen or so jars of spices spread out over the counter beside the stove, their contents scattered about to mingle with the drops of red. More than a few questions as to whether she had any respect for anything at all came to mind, none of which were likely to get a satisfactory answer. “What are you making?” he said instead.
Lyssa jabbed a wooden spoon into the bubbling pot and whirled round to face him. Rune chewed his lip as more of the red paste slid off the spoon to splatter against the floor. “Taste?” said Lyssa, pressing herself and the steaming spoon closer.
Rune took as step instinctively back as she drew uncomfortably near. Frowning, Lyssa angled the spoon towards his mouth. He grabbed the handle, at least an inch away from where her hand was curled around it. Lyssa’s lips twitched but she said nothing as he gently relieved her of the spoon and brought it to his lips himself.
He closed his mouth over the spoon. The sauce was rich, the balance of spices just right. “Well?” said Lyssa, as if she needed more of an answer than the fact that he was licking the spoon clean.
He paused to return her grin, warmth touching his cheeks. “It’s good,” he said. “Really good. But does it have to be such a mess?”
Lyssa yanked the spoon back out of his grasp with a snort. “Relax,” she said. “I’ll clean it up.” She thrust the spoon back into the pot with a force that sent another spray of sauce into the air. “Such a fuss,“ she muttered to herself as she stirred. “You’d think it was your kitchen or something.”
“But-“ His jaw dropped again. “It is…” He eyed the mess for a moment, his hand snaking its way around the back of his neck. “Or it was.” Copper curls bobbed before him with a soft snicker, and Rune frowned. “Don’t forget the ceiling,” he said, forcing his hands into his pockets as he left the room.