tinkerheart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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voidtreckerexpress2019-08-08 10:42 pm
tinkerheart) wrote in voidtreckerexpress2019-08-08 10:42 pm
Behold! The supremacy of elvish cuisine cannot to be contested!
Who: Feanor and OTA.
Where: The Kitchn.
When: Post 19, in the literal dead of the night.
What: The Great Voidtracker Bake-out aka Feanor trying to lure out his son to eat.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an elf in possession of small children, must from time to time resort to bribery.
Said need usually arose when either he or Nerdanel wanted to have some actual work done. That meant that one of them had to sufficiently occupy their incredibly curious and extremely energetic sons so that the other could relish in the pure miracle of Uninterrupted Time To Concentrate. Not an easy feat to accomplish.
It was in times like those, that Feanor had acquired several skills that had nothing to do with metalwork or jewels or clever mechanisms but a lot with taming little critters that revel in getting into all sorts of trouble and ask an inordinate amount of questions.
Feanor can't decide if his good memories aren't actually more painful than the bad ones.
That's why he actively chooses for his culinary experiments the hours where all others are long asleep. He doesn't need to sleep himself. He's been idle for far too long and the last thing he needs is more occasions to dwell on his past.
A thorough search of the storage carriage and the kitchen area itself revealed that there is not a single lemon or orange in the whole train so he had to make do with the second-best option.
Almonds. Nobody can resist his almond tart.
That might ... or might not result in people on the train other than the intended recipient very much interested in the results of his experiments.
Where: The Kitchn.
When: Post 19, in the literal dead of the night.
What: The Great Voidtracker Bake-out aka Feanor trying to lure out his son to eat.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an elf in possession of small children, must from time to time resort to bribery.
Said need usually arose when either he or Nerdanel wanted to have some actual work done. That meant that one of them had to sufficiently occupy their incredibly curious and extremely energetic sons so that the other could relish in the pure miracle of Uninterrupted Time To Concentrate. Not an easy feat to accomplish.
It was in times like those, that Feanor had acquired several skills that had nothing to do with metalwork or jewels or clever mechanisms but a lot with taming little critters that revel in getting into all sorts of trouble and ask an inordinate amount of questions.
Feanor can't decide if his good memories aren't actually more painful than the bad ones.
That's why he actively chooses for his culinary experiments the hours where all others are long asleep. He doesn't need to sleep himself. He's been idle for far too long and the last thing he needs is more occasions to dwell on his past.
A thorough search of the storage carriage and the kitchen area itself revealed that there is not a single lemon or orange in the whole train so he had to make do with the second-best option.
Almonds. Nobody can resist his almond tart.
That might ... or might not result in people on the train other than the intended recipient very much interested in the results of his experiments.
no subject
Plus, he's learned the sheer joy of the device in the bathroom called a Shower. His hair is in much better shape now, considering he'd been homeless for centuries and having only really washed in streams when it had occurred to him or when he'd approached one of the few places he'd meet with other people.
It's different here. Travel stench, even from an elf, in a small space is never a good thing.
He's being as polite as he can though, knowing humans need a lot more sleep than his kind so doesn't play or sing while outside the doors to sleep compartments. But as soon as he notices light in the kitchen compartment, he curiously steps in before a shy little smile creeps onto his face when he sees his father at work.
And the smell! "You remembered."
no subject
Feanor smiles. The bait worked. It always did. He's glad that didn't change. Maybe next time he could actually try some real food. Desserts are all fine but they're not exactly a definition of a nutritious meal.
"Come, tell me what you think."
He cuts a healthy piece of cake, puts it on a plate and holds it in his son's direction. Go on, take it. Don't make him stand like that.
"The recipe needed some adjustments. This sad excuse of an oven they have here is barely usable."
While the first batch wasn't a complete disaster, it certainly was a long way from what he was expecting. This might end in him rebuilding the accursed thing if he'll need to make everything twice because the equipment is just not reliable enough.