[OTA] comfort foods

[st_ackeddeck]

Emma had spent more of the last four days in front of a fire with her cards than she wanted to admit to herself. She wouldn't even let herself think what Sabine or Dani would've said if they'd seen her. When not there, she'd been curled up in a blanket nest she made in one of the twin beds upstairs, crying until she felt dryer than the desert outside. It still felt too empty to sleep until exhaustion didn't leave her a choice, but it was better than the king bed would've been. She'd left that for her roommate. He'd been back sometime while she was upstairs, gotten his bag, and left again. That was okay. She didn't really want to people, and she'd only hurt him with her face, and her not knowing what to say or not make things worse just by existing.

Four days of only leaving the room long enough to get a bite to eat she wouldn't even taste was ridiculous, and when lying there unable to sleep got to be too much, she showered and dressed. Chop vegetables, boil water, Dani would've said. Shortly before dawn, the hotel kitchen was empty. Emptier than the castle's would've probably been that time of night.

With no appetite, she looked at what was available to decide where to start. Plenty of venison... a confit maybe, since it was so early, and would take time to cook. Once that was in the oven, she was lost for a moment, and grabbed a bag of onions. If a few tears formed as she sliced them thin, it was just the onions, that was all, and once she started them caramelizing, she felt steadier, and maybe ready to think of eating herself eventually. Soup later, from the onions.

Aligot. That was what she wanted. So she gathered her ingredients, and started to peel potatoes, dropping them whole into water with lemon juice. By the time sounds of the inn started to filter through, and others came into the kitchen she had more potatoes than she had any need for, and she started thinking of all the ways she could use them, each dish sounding as welcome as the last. Putting the peeled potatoes in the walk-in to keep cool, she went looking for a small chalkboard she'd seen in the café. In neat even letters, she wrote:

Today's Specials

Potatoes All Day

Latkes
6-11AM
Gratin Dauphinois
11AM-3PM
Raclette
3PM-7PM
Tartiflette
7PM-10PM
Aligot
12N-1PM, 8-9PM
Disco Fries
all day, made on order

DINNER SPECIAL

Confit de Venaison, Pané

Soupes du Jour
Potato Leek
French Onion


She added some scrolling designs in the margins and looked over her work. That would keep her busy. Busy was good. Feeding people, feeling like she was doing something useful, that was even better.

((OOC: Find Emma in the kitchens or the café, any time throughout the day. She's shy and sad, but always willing to talk about food, and willing to take requests.))

[For Sam - Backdated to November 19] Isn't It Ironic

[st_eampunk]

Molly had needed to make emotions be white noise, not just those in the Inn but hers - especially hers. So, she'd turned to the one thing that would guarantee to do that quickly and effectively, alcohol. Lots of it. Her lesson should have been learned in Bonesville when alcohol hadn't helped heal the pain of not finding Harry in the other world. Alcohol had been her best friend this time, if only temporarily.

The very first thing she noticed on waking, was that the insects in the desert were freaking loud if they could be heard on the third floor of the Inn. The second thing she noticed was that she wasn't in the Inn, but sprawled out on the sandy desert floor with two empty bottles next to her. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper and her tongue felt like she'd licked the entire desert. One eyelid pried itself open to look around but promptly shut it when the blazing of a million stars burned into her retina, or the sun peaking up over the horizon with pink fingers barely touched her face. It depended on the point of view.

She pushed herself up into a seated position and forced her eyelids open once more. Alcohol hadn't taken the sting away and it had added a pounding hangover, but she was a fighter, survivor and life went on. If she was destined to be the Winter Lady and eventually the Queen, she better get used to life having a funny way of sneaking up on you when you think everything's okay and everything's going right.

"Shit, now I have Alanis Morissette in my head. Life just keeps getting better."

[Link drop] This isn't a terrible idea (Corbie x Jackson)

[st_rikingblueeyes]

Dated: November 18

Corbie and Jackson slipped out of Kash's meeting to take care of some pressing needs. Much against Corbie's expectation, though, in the aftermath she finds in Jackson a sympathetic ear. At least this one time. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship (with benefits).

[Here | pg-13 | ftb | naked cuddling]

[EP] A dress for Winter's Crest

[st_rangepalette]

It seemed hard to imagine it had been a year and sixty-two days since Lillith had met Vox Machina the first time. It had been a year and thirty-three days since they had received her letter, apprising them of her safety, accompanied by the Stones of Sending she had crafted, and now she would soon be celebrating her third Winter's Crest only sixty-three days after the last.

The passing of days and reordering of time confused her almost not at all, but the prospect of having to find another gown so soon... with no one she could trust to tailor it for a Tiefling... that, it was unnerving. Yes, unnerving, even though dear Vex'halia had made herself mistress of the shops.

She sighed as examined the garments that might be suitable for the dinner to which she had been invited. "Why must everything be so straight, so pale, or so terribly short?"

[OOC: Find Lillith in the boutique inspecting dresses, or leaving after she has chosen one. She has both altered her shape and her appearance so that she looks like a pale blonde human, the same as when she arrived. Mages with powers related to transformation may notice an arcane aura around her but nothing more.]