2024-06-01: Cooking Time is So Much Fun and Nothing Bad Could Happen
- Log: 2024-06-01 Cooking Time is So Much Fun and Nothing Bad Could Happen
- Cast: Trem Firmal, Elan Ceres
- Where: Asticassia School of Technology
- OOC - IC Date: June 1, UC 0099 (2024)
- Summary: Trem is a new student at Asticassia and a member of Peil House. As head of Peil House, Elan has an obligation to check in on her.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
In Peil House's dormitory, in the kitchen...
...the new transfer student to Asticassia School of Technology is hard at work. Trem Firmal is a short young woman, with a slim build, and in the dark blue-green and black uniform of the school on. She has pale pink hair, pulled back into a ponytail, with no bangs, though two long locks hang down in front of her ears.
Her silver eyes are staring down, with a focus that is still somehow distracted, at two huge pots on the electric stove. One has rice -- she didn't think to use the rice cooker -- and it looks too wet and too sticky by half. The other has, judging by the appearance, curry. Except it's bubbling and smells off, and the beef that floats to the top is blackened.
And there's bowls of things scattered about: carrots and potatoes, halves of apples, and bottles of assorted condiments. Measuring spoons and cups are all over, too, and a few stacked in the sink.
Trem's eyebrows knit. "Helvete," she mutters under her breath. "Why is it so complicated...?"
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
Elan Ceres, Head of Peil House, has certain obligations while he's a student at Asticassia. One of them, apparently, is checking in on transfer student Trem Firmal, who joined up at the start of the school year in April. It's been a couple of months by now, and her benefactors would like him to make sure she's settling in well.
Given that her benefactors are also his benefactors, he does not have the option to say no.
So, although Elan is not well-known for reaching out to his fellow housemates, he asks around at the dorm with some of the students for where Trem might be found. He finds someone who tells him they saw her heading to the kitchen, and soon he arrives there too.
He arrives to a pretty considerable mess. Elan pauses in the doorway, though truthfully the smell met him before the sight did, to take it all in. He looks over at the ingredients and cooking implements scattered hither and yon. He looks over at the sink. He looks over at the stove. And finally, he looks at Trem herself.
Elan's known for being inexpressive to the point of being nicknamed the Ice Prince, but in this moment, his pretty face is shaded with a mote of befuddlement.
"What are you doing?" he wonders in his quiet voice, finally walking the rest of the way inside over to Trem.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
Is Trem fitting in well?
Her circumstances are complicated. She transferred from the Kingdom of Scandinavia. Her file had a picture-perfect resume of studying at Military Academy Karlberg, specifically its junior program in Neo-Sweden. She isn't quite from Earth and not quite from space, though certainly privileged.
And she seems pleasant enough! But prone to spacing out and she is, if anything, eccentric.
She turns when he's paused in the doorway -- though if Elan is observant, there's a moment where she actually paused when he entered -- and then she turns her head. Her silver eyes look at him.
She blinks once. "Oh... Mister Elan. I'm very sorry," she says, quietly. "I was making curry but--"
She looks the pots. "...The recipe is very dishonest. It should be ashamed of its behavior."
She smiles, then.
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
Elan is aware of Trem's file. That, too, is part of his instructions. They've met at least in passing before too--enough and long enough to exchange introductions--but they haven't spoken much before now.
This is normal for him, though. And unlike some of their fellow Peil House students, Trem doesn't seem to mind.
He does note that moment when she pauses. It's information, nothing more. When he reaches her, he looks with her into the pots, then over at her. He doesn't return that smile, though that's normal for him. He still doesn't know what she's talking about, particularly in the way she anthropomorphizes a recipe, but that surprise has settled. She's eccentric. This is known.
What he asks instead is, "If you wanted food, why didn't you get it from the cafeteria?"
Elan is skilled at a great many things. Cooking is not one of them. He does not make his own food, ever.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
Trem is typically polite -- though, at times, a little... 'weird,' to use a term that other Asticassia students would pick. She was always polite to Elan, when they talked before.
But she didn't mind if he didn't speak to her often. It reminds her a little of someone else she knows.
Besides, she has people she is friendly with. And, for a new school, that's like having people she is friends with.
"Hmm," she mururs aloud. She considers his question; there's even a faint tilt to the corner of her lips, like she's amused for a oment.
"I never got to cook much before, back home," she says. "Most of my food was made for me. Or pre-packaged. So I thought..."
She looks at the pots. Some of the curry burbles; a half of an apple rises to the surface.
"...That I should try," she finishes with a nod.
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
It's like having friends, and for those who've never had friends before, that's probably enough.
Elan looks at Trem as she gives her answer. Her situation is a familiar one; her conclusion, less so. He follows her gaze again to the pot, where the... ingredients... bubble up and sink back down. The smell is... unique.
"I see. It seems as though you aren't pleased with the results," he remarks. He turns his gaze from the curry over to the overly wet rice. "Were you following a dishonest recipe for this, too?"
It isn't snark. He genuinely doesn't know. His deadpan is something that one can ascribe any number of emotions and motivations to, though. Just ask Suletta and Miorine.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
"No! This looks disgusting. I'd rather have..." Trem trails off, like she can't quite think of what she would rather have. She shakes her head, then she folds her arms and looks down at the pots. There is a hint of accusation to how she looks at them.
"Well, anything else, almost," she says. She exhales, sighing, and then looks between the two pots.
She gives him a look -- a searching one. She tries to decide if he is making fun of her, for a moment, before settling on not. Trem hesitate, then, as she realizes she isn't quite sure if that deadpan hides something else at all.
Which is pleasant, in its own way.
"Yes," Trem sighs. "I found they do not instruct adequately. They say when to add things, but not in what order. This recipe for rice, it is very silly. Stir briskly."
She points at the wooden spoon. Then, she smiles pleasantly.
"I stirred exactly once, as it said," Trem says. "And now... the rice is not very good."
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
It certainly doesn't look appetizing, objectively speaking. But Elan thinks it looks better than some other things he's eaten. How they tasted, he no longer remembers; he only barely remembers what they looked like.
Still, he gets it. Failures are to be discarded. That's just how the world is.
She explains the issue with the recipes. Elan listens. From the way she describes it, it does sound like the recipes are at fault. If they don't actually explain properly how to make the food, then it's no wonder it came out poorly.
"Are you still going to try to make your own food?" he wonders. He doesn't understand the logic of trying to cook because it's always been made or pre-packaged for her; to him, that's been a reason to not try. But that's what she says she wants to do, and his instructions are to make sure she's getting along well.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
Trem winces when the curry bubbles again. Then, she sighs, and slides it off the burner -- and flips the burner off, to be safe. This is something to be thrown out later. A shame.
"I think so," Trem says. "Just because I've always had people make it for me... I don't need to always do it that way."
She is quiet for a second after that. Her expression turns thoughtful, even as she also slides the rice pot to the side. The rice flows hopelessly, inside of it, closer to molasses than anything elose.
She decides that more explanation is warranted.
"It's good to be self-reliant," she says. "If someone has to do something for you... you can end up helpless. It's not very becoming of a..."
Trem's nose wrinkles. "...A student here, I suppose."
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
Elan listens to Trem's explanation, then bows his head. The ends of his tassel earrings brush his delicate jawline, but he pays them no mind.
'Helpless,' she says. Put like that, he realizes she's not wrong. Even if, for example, he were to try to leave Asticassia and strike out on his own, he wouldn't be able to care for himself.
Of course, caring for himself would be the least of his problems in a circumstance like that. He can't leave the cage he's in anyway. He can only live in the role that's been defined for him.
"I see. I understand," he says, looking back up at her. "I hope you can find better recipes to follow."
And normally he might leave it at that--normally he would probably have dropped this conversation several exchanges ago--but he stops to consider instead. "Even if you don't want to eat at the cafeteria, their food is generally palatable. They must be following better recipes. Perhaps you can ask them to share theirs with you. I can ask with you, if that would help."
He doesn't especially want to go out of his way, but he has his instructions, and he's aware that he has a lot more clout than she does. That might well make the difference of whether the school's kitchen staff shares or not.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
Trem notices the way his tassel earrings brush against him. Interesting ornamentation, she thinks. Maybe she should have looked into something like that, to fit in better; a lot students here have earrings, or bracelets, or...
She finds herself distracted, for a moment, as she considers those earrings and the implications.
It dawns on her, a moment later, that he seems to be thinking about her answer more than she expected. Trem looks at him when he looks back up.
"I can only hope, hm?" she asks, with a smile. But then he makes an observation -- and then an offer. She has eaten at the cafeteria, of course, and knows it to be palatable.
"Oh, I--"
She starts to accept immediately. After all, Master Elan has far more clout than a newly arrived student from Scandinavia. But then she considers: he is, at least allegedly, her superior. He is the leader of her House. There are rules and expectations.
For a moment, real doubt shows on her face. "Would... it put you out, Mister Elan? I don't want to trouble you."
A beat, and then she smiles. "...But I would be grateful."
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
These particular earrings are unique to Elan. But it's certainly true that plenty of other students have their own ornamentation. Suletta Mercury has that headband, for example.
But that's another matter. Trem starts to accept his offer, then cuts herself off, doubt shadowing her expression. He pauses. It's not the first time someone has expressed a similar sentiment to him--at least, while he's been at this school--but it does prompt him to actually think about it in this specific context. It's not something he ever cared enough about to consider before.
"It's possible. They have to serve a great amount of food to a great number of students," he admits. He doesn't know if that would have an effect on whether they'd share their recipes or not, but he doesn't not know that either. Either way, it would put him out.
"In that case, there's a girl I helped recently. She belongs to a ship called the Tempo Profundo, and she cooks there," he says instead. "She invited me to come there to eat sometime. If you go there and say I sent you, then they might be able to assist you in some way."
He doesn't know that either. But it's easier to reach out to one person than to many people.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
Trem thinks about something like the earring sfor a moment longer. Her fingers end up at one of the locks of hair falling over her ears, pinching it between her fingers and rolling it idly as she thinks.
When he admits it might put him out -- and that he just thought of it -- she pauses a moment, blinking. Somehow, that wasn't quite what Trem expected.
Thoughtful, maybe, she thinks.
"Is that so...? The Tempo Profundo?" Trem repeats the name, as she considers. Her eyes look distant for a moment, as she considers that -- distracted, almost. "That does sound like a better idea."
She hesitates for a moment more. "...If I may. How did you help her, Mister Elan?"
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
"Yes. I haven't been there yet. It sounded as though they're in the process of opening up a restaurant or something similar, the way she spoke of it," Elan replies.
He notes the way she toys with her hair, pinching and rolling it between her fingers. But it doesn't strike him as an important detail. He just takes in the fact that she's doing it. He also doesn't think especially deeply of what he's telling her, beyond that she has expressed his desire and he's trying to help her fulfill it. So when she asks him how he helped that girl he mentioned, his deadpan gives way to a mildly nonplussed look.
"It wasn't anything special. I just returned her tablet to her," he replies.
It's more complicated than that, but he doesn't see a need to go into the details.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
"It is the sort of place that sounds like a restaurant," Trem admits, with a thoughtful nod of her head. It reminds her of the names of Italian restaurants.
She stops toying with her hair after a moment, her hand falling back to her side. She blinks when he says that -- but then Trem nods.
Because, really, that seems fair.
"Do you plan to visit?" Trem asks. After all, that would speak to the quality of the food. Besides, she is curious. It would speak well of a potential source of recipes.
And advice on cooking.
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
It wouldn't, really. Elan doesn't care much about food. But Trem doesn't know that, and as far as he's concerned, it doesn't matter anyway. Few things do.
"Yes," he says. Not for the food or the recipes, but because it was important to that girl to express her gratitude to him, and cooking seemed to be important to her. There's no harm in going.
(This unspoken attitude is why Suletta thinks he's kind. But that hasn't occurred to him, and he doesn't think of himself that way besides.)
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
This makes Trem wonder, for a moment, the way he says it so simply. She is quiet while she thinks about it.
"That..."
There is a moment where Trem pauses to consider, again. That slightly distracted, silver-eyed stare. She thinks of her life before, and all of the things she knew, and going to a restaurant because she was invited for a kind act...
...Well, she didn't have much room for that sort of thing.
"...That sounds nice," Trem decides to say. She smiles. "Chances to do something like that are part of why I'm glad I came to this school."
<Pose Tracker> Elan Ceres has posed.
For that moment, Trem is silent, lost in her thoughts. Elan watches her, but he doesn't probe into whatever she might be thinking, nor does he speculate even privately about it. She's known to be a distracted sort of person. What's there to speculate about?
It's only when she talks about chances that he wonders. But only a little bit. If she's glad, then he's carried out his instructions.
"Good," he thus replies. "I hope you find what you seek when you go."
Then he turns to start to leave. With this task complete, there's no reason to remain, in his view. He isn't in such a hurry that he wouldn't stop if she had more to say, though.
<Pose Tracker> Trem Firmal has posed.
Trem smiles at him, and that comes easily enough, when he says that it is good. "Thank you!" she says, politely, and with a bit of cheer. Though not an excessive amount of it.
But then she blinks. And while Trem might be eccentric -- and maybe even knows she is eccentric...
Seeing Elan turn and walk away, without saying farewell, feels strange to her. Her nose wrinkles for just a moment.
"I'll see you later, Mister Elan." She looks back at the pots. "Hm, hm, I suppose I shouldn't leave these for someone else to clean..."