Post by glamourie on May 17, 2010 2:55:38 GMT -5
One of R’wign’s favorite things to do in the early evening hours was to head to the kitchens and cook. He’d even stolen a corner of them to use that the drudges didn’t mind (primarily because it meant he stayed out of their way except when they needed an extra pair of hands – give and take) and he was getting pretty good at it. Therapeutic, he found it; the smell of food cooking reminded him of the better times at home. It took him back to when he was a little boy, sitting on counters eating bread while his mother cooked. Granted, she favored seafood (given that the hold was coastal), while he avoided it and tended to favor any and everything “spicy” in flavor (his weyrmate did so love his peppers). He’d managed to concoct several of his own recipes and this one was bound to impress. He’d been studying what M’ta favored out of the things he cooked – and his current recipe was catered almost completely around that. It would take some time to prepare, but he was betting the end result would be very satisfying. Having dinner together was one of his favorite things. And anyway it gave him an excuse to slip medicine into M’ta’s food when he seemed sick. Yes, he was evil.
The seasonings were first. Measuring out a teaspoon of salt into a small bowl, he set it aside, followed by a teaspoon of ground pepper. He also set aside some oil and cheeses before spreading out parsley in front of himself on the cutting board. The drudges were making something suspiciously like stew – his plans were much better, though he had to admit that he wished he had ten or twelve hands. As he finished chopping the parsley finely, he scooped it up and put it into another bowl and examined his ingredients. Garlic – needed to mince the garlic and chop some onions. He had chopped artichoke hearts and sun-dried tomatoes in bowls off to the side (his workspace no doubt strongly resembled the infirmary after one of his cleaning binges – meticulously organized and ridiculous, everything in individual bowls). R’wign preferred to prepare all the ingredients in advance, if he could. He found it made cooking easier.
He was not relishing the idea of chopping the onions though – and that was why he’d put them off ‘til last. Spreading the garlic gloves out in front of himself, he seized a large knife and began chopping when movement across the kitchen caught his eye and – odd.
Drudge. Drudge. Goldrider. Drudge. Drudge. Drudge. One of these things was not like the other. What was she doing there?
In the months that R’wign had been working in the kitchens, he’d never once seen Savitri in there. She didn’t seem to be much of a cooking sort. He’d just assumed that she hated the kitchens. Her shift was over – he thought. Did that mean she was just in there foraging? Excellent, he had a use – “Savitri, get over here and cut these onions for me, would you?” Being bossy was in his nature, and R’wign didn’t really care if he was interrupting her. He figured if Savitri had a problem with doing as he asked, she’d voice it. He’d never known her to be shy, and whatever she was doing was probably in the way of the drudges. (He supposed she could have been managing them – wasn’t that the job of the Weyrwomen? – but it seemed unlikely – more likely to be foraging for food for herself and the littles. Oh well.) “If you’re not too busy, anyway~ It’ll help speed my progress up.”
The seasonings were first. Measuring out a teaspoon of salt into a small bowl, he set it aside, followed by a teaspoon of ground pepper. He also set aside some oil and cheeses before spreading out parsley in front of himself on the cutting board. The drudges were making something suspiciously like stew – his plans were much better, though he had to admit that he wished he had ten or twelve hands. As he finished chopping the parsley finely, he scooped it up and put it into another bowl and examined his ingredients. Garlic – needed to mince the garlic and chop some onions. He had chopped artichoke hearts and sun-dried tomatoes in bowls off to the side (his workspace no doubt strongly resembled the infirmary after one of his cleaning binges – meticulously organized and ridiculous, everything in individual bowls). R’wign preferred to prepare all the ingredients in advance, if he could. He found it made cooking easier.
He was not relishing the idea of chopping the onions though – and that was why he’d put them off ‘til last. Spreading the garlic gloves out in front of himself, he seized a large knife and began chopping when movement across the kitchen caught his eye and – odd.
Drudge. Drudge. Goldrider. Drudge. Drudge. Drudge. One of these things was not like the other. What was she doing there?
In the months that R’wign had been working in the kitchens, he’d never once seen Savitri in there. She didn’t seem to be much of a cooking sort. He’d just assumed that she hated the kitchens. Her shift was over – he thought. Did that mean she was just in there foraging? Excellent, he had a use – “Savitri, get over here and cut these onions for me, would you?” Being bossy was in his nature, and R’wign didn’t really care if he was interrupting her. He figured if Savitri had a problem with doing as he asked, she’d voice it. He’d never known her to be shy, and whatever she was doing was probably in the way of the drudges. (He supposed she could have been managing them – wasn’t that the job of the Weyrwomen? – but it seemed unlikely – more likely to be foraging for food for herself and the littles. Oh well.) “If you’re not too busy, anyway~ It’ll help speed my progress up.”