04.Mar.13, 05:00 PM
Once upon a time, there were two girls who were friends. They liked to talk in the kitchen, and giggled with delight as they worked. And then along came an ugly troll who ruined their fun, took away their things, and made them stop what they were doing. Oahvakeen felt like this, and the bewilderment in the two women made him feel ugly, awkward, and stupid. It was both a comfort and hinderance that the gentle-eyed one felt just as baffled as he did.
When Kathleena acknowledged his liking of food, he sensed that he had said something wrong. "Oh.", he murmured aloud, aware of the sensation of incorrectness now. And why did she keep playing with her hands? Was something wrong with them? He peered at them, trying to see if perhaps she was was doing something that he hadn't noticed, like rolling up or kneading bread in her hands. But his inspections were fruitless and he gathered no answers. Perhaps her hands merely hurt, after all, the kitchen wasn't an easy place to work. "I'm sorry about your arthritis. In your hands. Sucks.", he mentioned with an uneasy gesture, coming to a conclusion and addressing it.
So, that was it. As Kathleena had said, the things but be for cooking. Yes, that made sense. Wait, no, that didn't make sense at all - weren't all of the things in this kitchen for cooking? He felt even more confused. He had begun to nod in understanding, but now his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He tried to mask his expressions, but was hardly any good at it.
"I am? Oh, okay.", he agreed. "But I don't understand these things. I can't be very good... if I don't understand how it works.", his speech was inadequate for explaining what he was doing here, once more leaving out crucial information on the how and why he was here, and the very format of his words open for too much interpretation.
Rhaedalyn was speaking now and he hushed up to listen. She was a better explainer. "Some things are made to go on heat and some for mixing on the counter and some because the size is perfect ... difficult to maneuver.", he repeated her words out loud to himself, and held his chin in one hand in careful contemplation. "That explains a lot. What are you making? Tell me why you are doing that, why you do each step with each item, please? "
He felt distracted by all of the colors that seemed to flutter about, and for a moment, he associated the colors with dragons, realized dragons were in the kitchen, and that they could not possibly fit in the kitchen, and how dangerous all this was. He winced with alarm. And then he realized that no, they were firelizards, and there was no harm or badness.
"But I have to be.", he responded to Rhaedalyn's reply about being like them. He felt as if perhaps she were trying to say something more, something between the lines, but he couldn't grasp it, and let the thought go. "I have to get better. I'm not very good at this stuff. I don't get it."
Nearby, the whispering conversations of the cooks seemed to have changed. He couldn't help but take a long glance in their direction, letting his ears take in the conversation by default. After listening for a few moments in confusion, he realized that they were gossiping. Gossip was how folks got in trouble. He made a horrified face as if he had bitten into a lemon instead of a juicy berry, and shook his head 'no' slightly, as if to shake off the thoughts. He turned his attention back to the two women before him, but he couldn't help but falter. What could they have meant when those two cooks had spoke about footprints? No, no, he couldn't dwell on this now. He tried to convince himself that nothing had happened at all.
When Kathleena acknowledged his liking of food, he sensed that he had said something wrong. "Oh.", he murmured aloud, aware of the sensation of incorrectness now. And why did she keep playing with her hands? Was something wrong with them? He peered at them, trying to see if perhaps she was was doing something that he hadn't noticed, like rolling up or kneading bread in her hands. But his inspections were fruitless and he gathered no answers. Perhaps her hands merely hurt, after all, the kitchen wasn't an easy place to work. "I'm sorry about your arthritis. In your hands. Sucks.", he mentioned with an uneasy gesture, coming to a conclusion and addressing it.
So, that was it. As Kathleena had said, the things but be for cooking. Yes, that made sense. Wait, no, that didn't make sense at all - weren't all of the things in this kitchen for cooking? He felt even more confused. He had begun to nod in understanding, but now his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He tried to mask his expressions, but was hardly any good at it.
"I am? Oh, okay.", he agreed. "But I don't understand these things. I can't be very good... if I don't understand how it works.", his speech was inadequate for explaining what he was doing here, once more leaving out crucial information on the how and why he was here, and the very format of his words open for too much interpretation.
Rhaedalyn was speaking now and he hushed up to listen. She was a better explainer. "Some things are made to go on heat and some for mixing on the counter and some because the size is perfect ... difficult to maneuver.", he repeated her words out loud to himself, and held his chin in one hand in careful contemplation. "That explains a lot. What are you making? Tell me why you are doing that, why you do each step with each item, please? "
He felt distracted by all of the colors that seemed to flutter about, and for a moment, he associated the colors with dragons, realized dragons were in the kitchen, and that they could not possibly fit in the kitchen, and how dangerous all this was. He winced with alarm. And then he realized that no, they were firelizards, and there was no harm or badness.
"But I have to be.", he responded to Rhaedalyn's reply about being like them. He felt as if perhaps she were trying to say something more, something between the lines, but he couldn't grasp it, and let the thought go. "I have to get better. I'm not very good at this stuff. I don't get it."
Nearby, the whispering conversations of the cooks seemed to have changed. He couldn't help but take a long glance in their direction, letting his ears take in the conversation by default. After listening for a few moments in confusion, he realized that they were gossiping. Gossip was how folks got in trouble. He made a horrified face as if he had bitten into a lemon instead of a juicy berry, and shook his head 'no' slightly, as if to shake off the thoughts. He turned his attention back to the two women before him, but he couldn't help but falter. What could they have meant when those two cooks had spoke about footprints? No, no, he couldn't dwell on this now. He tried to convince himself that nothing had happened at all.