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Post by Person on Dec 9, 2012 20:00:37 GMT -5
[45th of summer, early evening]
Silent Storm and Turnkey neared the neighborhood Storm lived in, a group of relatively scattered cottages that were each modest, yet quite large in comparison to the condominiums in the city. As they passed one of the abodes, Storm saw a young colt peering at him from a window. Storm turned and waved a hoof at the colt, forcing a smile onto his muzzle. An older mare, assumingly the colt's mother walked in behind the colt and glanced through the window. She hastily walked over to the window and slammed it shut, then drew the shades over it.
Storm winced at the loud *thwack* the window made when it closed and lowered his head as he resumed sauntering down the stone path. The two stallions reached his home in several minutes, it's unpainted exterior giving it a rather rustic aura. The two stepped onto the porch to the cottage and Storm retrieved his house key from the same pouch he kept his dagger in. He unlocked the door and ushered Turnkey inside.
The cottage's interior was much like the exterior, in the fact that the walls were wood, but had a sort of warm feeling to it. Wood carvings of various creatures stood on shelves to the right of the entryway, and scenes depicting the two rulers of Equestria had been set into the walls.
Storm gestured to a small couch and two bean-bag chairs sitting on the floor centered around a hoof-made coffee table he'd carved some designs into near an unlit stone fireplace. "Take your pick of seating," he said to Turnkey, walking to the ice chest in the kitchen adjacent to the living room. "Care for a drink? I've got tea, cider, mead, milk, water, and orange juice." Storm took a glass bottle labeled "Moon Tears Mead" for himself and popped the top off with his dagger.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 9, 2012 20:54:19 GMT -5
"What kind of tea?" asked Turnkey, testing both chairs and the couch for comfort using his knee. After the initial test, he selected the beanbag chair on the far end of the room, furthest from the door.
His eyes wandered the room, and it almost reminded him of his dining room, with the theme of 'wood.' Except for the fireplace, which reminded him of his den more than anything else. Turning his head to gaze into the kitchen, he took note that it wasn't nearly as modern as his kitchen. Still, it had a warm feeling to it, rather than the chill he received in his own kitchen, and that was something worth having.
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Post by Person on Dec 9, 2012 23:28:05 GMT -5
Silent Storm took a swig of his extremely sweet drink, then put it down on the counter. He examined his tray of teabags, taking stock of what he had on hoof.
"Lets see, I've got green, chai, jasmine, and my own mix of herbal picked from the Everfree," He told Turnkey from the kitchen, "I have mint leaves too, if you want to add a little flavor."
Storm prepared to start the dish, getting a variety of ingredients, a pot, and a skillet to start cooking it. He poured water into the pot, then placed it atop the range, and while he waited for the water to come to a boil, poured a little olive oil into the skillet and placed it over a medium-sized flame. He tossed a couple hooffulls of mushrooms into the skillet, spreading them out so they could cook simultaneously, listening to them sizzle softly.
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Kiernan
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Tua Culpa, Culpa Mea
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 10, 2012 13:47:46 GMT -5
Turnkey silently sniffed the air. he couldn't see, but based on the sounds and scent emanating from the kitchen, Sil was sauteing shiitake. It was a lovely, umami scent, which was very welcome, considering that the usual diet for ponies was bittersweet, at best.
"Oh, Jasmine, if you don't mind," said Turnkey, trying to sound polite. He again realized how much he detested waiting, and decided to stretch his legs a little bit via walking around the room. He wandered over to the mantle, and looked intently at the clock. He remembered back to when he was younger, and he took apart a clock similar to that, in an effort to find a tiny spring for one of his pins. The memory itself caused him to chuckle, as he still had pieces of that old clock, tucked away in a drawer.
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Post by Person on Dec 10, 2012 17:42:09 GMT -5
Silent Storm heard Turnkey's preference just as the water came to a boil. He got out a mug and poured some of the steaming water into it, but he left most of it in the pot, placing back upon the lit burner. He brought the mug into the den along with a jasmine teabag, placing both onto the coffee table. He noticed Turnkey looking at his mantle clock almost longingly.
"Here's your tea," Storm said quietly, he opened his mouth to say something else, but changed his mind and retreated back to the kitchen.
Storm added some long-strand pasta to the boiling pot of water. He pulled his dagger from its sheath and washed it thoroughly before placing it on his cutting board. He retrieved a small onion from his basket of produce he'd purchased at the local farm stand the other day. He picked up his dagger and minced the vegetable in the blink of an eye, throwing it into the skillet along with the sauteing mushrooms. He strained the pasta and added the mushroom-onion mix as well as a blend of various savory spices, getting out two bowls and dividing the food into both. He gave Turnkey a little more than he gave himself and dusted his own pasta with a sprinkling of ground ruby. He placed a fork in his guest's and two chopsticks into his, ornamenting them both with a sprig of parsley.
Storm brought them both into the den and set them on the coffee table along with his own drink. "And here we are, mushroom and onion pasta with a special spice-blend. It's a new recipe, so be honest about how it tastes."
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 11, 2012 0:24:59 GMT -5
Turnkey thanked his host for the tea, then began steeping as soon as he left. He allowed his mind to wander, briefly, until he believed his tea had steeped long enough. Drawing out the teabag, and setting it aside, he took a sip. A little too strong, but nothing too major. He let his mind to wander once more, and by the time his host brought the food out, he had gone from thinking of his old mare-friend, to contemplating the most valued possession of his magic kindergarten teacher, and he had no idea how he had arrived at that.
He was a little bit miffed that he had received a fork, in favor of chopsticks, though he tried not to show it. He instead turned his attention to the aroma coming from the bowl. It was a warm, hearty scent, though still sweet, with a subtle sting of piquancy. However, his intoxication was left almost solely to the topping. When he saw noodles, his enrapturement in the food went down the metaphorical drain. Judging by the consistency, the noodles were taken straight from the pot, rather than fried in a light sauce afterwards.
Still, he had to taste the dish sooner or later, and his stomach said sooner. He picked up the fork, skewed a mushroom, wound a few noodles, and popped the amuse-bouche into his mouth. Immediately, his retronasal cavity retracted, drawing in the savory sensation that burst from the mushroom and oil released. When said mushroom was squeezed, and finally pushed into two by his molars, more flavor was released, especially a umami taste that mushrooms were famous for, but also a sweet, tender taste from the sucrose cooked out of the onion. Then there were the noodles...
"It's simple, and elegant," said Turnkey, after he had finished the first bite, and cleared his mouth. "In fact there's only one thing I would have changed. And that's because," he took another bite, "And, this is being completely honest, which is what you asked for," he took another bite. "I absolutely hate noodles."
[OOC note: I really, really, really hate noodles, unless they're fried or grilled. I realize that I'm a chef, and I should love all food, but I absolutely despise noodles, unless they're fried, or grilled. Pasta disgusts me. And when I say fried, I don't mean drowned in boiling fat, I mean pan-fried, almost braising.
Furthermore, this post contains some elaborate vocabulary, so I'll explain some of the words that I think might have a little too much of me in them.
Amuse-bouche is a french term, meaning, "to entertain the mouth." Usually a dish served as an amuse-bouche is only one bite anyway, so, I thought the term was very fitting, if not a little obscure, and for that, I apologize.
The retronasal cavity is a pocket at the back of your throat leading into the retronasal pathway, which is a piece of your mouth used to identify flavors and aromas at the same time. That's why sometimes things lose some flavor when you hold your nose while eating.
Lastly, umami is one of the five basic tastes, along with sweet, sour, salty, and bitter. Though the other ones are well-known, umami is primarily used in the eastern cultures, and the western cultures are only starting to pick up on it. It's the rich, meaty taste that is typically found in meats and nuts, and even some fruits.]
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Post by Person on Dec 11, 2012 19:55:08 GMT -5
Silent Storm listened carefully to Turnkey's words and decided to take it as a bittersweet compliment. He hadn't expected Turnkey's distaste for noodles, but he seemed to be enjoying it, interrupting his sentence with frequent bites. You can't please everypony, I guess, he thought to himself.
"I'm glad you at least like part of it," he said appreciatively, "I don't cook very often, I just put together a sandwich or something quickly."
Hey picked up his chopsticks and gathered together a little bit of noodle, mushroom, and onion and scooped it into his maw. He chewed carefully and once he swallowed, a smile burst to his face. The added ruby gave it a little kick along with the taste of mushrooms, which had always been his favorite anyway.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 12, 2012 0:52:41 GMT -5
Turnkey finished his meal, and set his bowl down on the coffee table, taking note that his host was also nearing completion, if not already there.
"I thank you for the meal," he said, bowing his head. "I usually only eat something that tastes this good when my..." he cleared his throat, "Closest friend cooks for me. He's always doing something fancy with food when he's not messing around with some kind of bizarre spell or machination."
The metaphorical gears inside Turnkey's head spun rapidly as he took another sip of his tea. As he set the cup down, an epiphany hit him. "You should come with me to his place tomorrow, and try it out."
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Post by Person on Dec 13, 2012 17:44:21 GMT -5
Silent Storm swallowed the last bite of his meal, having enjoyed it profusely. I really must make this more often, he thought to himself as he took a sip of his mead. His frowned at the liquid, remembering the sensation of alcohol that his unusual metabolism had unkindly taken from him. He'd only experienced it once, and that had been when he was a foal and wasn't quite sure what he was drinking. My that was an interesting day, Storm thought, a mixture of fond and otherwise memories flooding to his mind.
He heard Turnkey's proposal and wasn't sure what to do. On one hoof, this friend of Turnkey's could be like him, but in general, Storm didn't trust unicorns, especially more then one near him at the same time. One unicorn, he could manage in his own with his dagger and fire, but two at once was still beyond him. Storm shivered when he remembered last time that had happened. He'd been literally spell-bound to a flag pole in the center of town for a day and a half until Lunar Mist had found him and managed to get him off with the help of one of her unicorn friends that had helped convince the locals to let him get the cottage.
"Is y-your friend generally... a-accepting?" Storm inquired of Turnkey, mentally cursing the slight return of the stutter that he'd worked so hard to iron out of his speech. "I just don't want to sh-show up and get, I don't know, dissected o-or something."
Storm noticed it had begun to get dark, so he decided to light the oil lamps around his house as well as the fire place. He closed his eyes and pulled his consciousness into his body and identified the softly throbbing flow of energy that was synchronized with his heartbeat; the blood of the dragons. He raised his right hoof and diverted a small amount of energy to it, and as he did so, a lick of blue flame, similar to his mane, burst into existence an inch above it. he flicked his hoof in the direction of the various lamps scattered around the room, making small bits of flame fly towards them and ignite each one in turn. He flicked his hoof once more toward the fireplace, lighting it as well. He cut off the flow of energy and the original flame above his hoof was extinguished.
[OOC Note: I decided to explain how he does the fire-thing once so I won't have to later.]
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 14, 2012 2:27:11 GMT -5
Turnkey Held himself up a little straighter, and his face cleared of all humour. He usually only reserved this attitude and pose for when it was required he not stray into anything outside of the subject at hand. The very thought that Kai would cause harm to another pony wasn't unheard of, but neither was it a commonplace idea.
He slipped back into his usual, laid back self momentarily, as he watched his host throw sequences of excited molecules around, lighting the lamps, and even the fireplace. Disbelief crowded his face with a big smile, and he had to hold back the urge to shout loudly, 'That was so COOL!!'
However, he quickly regained his composure, and, clearing his throat, spoke. "He's not going to dissect you. At least, not until after you've died of natural causes, but that's not the point. Please believe me when I say, he knows what it's like to be different, and he will treat you fairly, and not cause you any harm."
He thought about what he had said for a moment, then, slipping once more back into his normal attitude, added, "Unless of course you insult him, threaten him, cause him harm, move with the intent of causing harm, or anything else that could be considered a violent crime..."
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Post by Person on Dec 14, 2012 19:56:09 GMT -5
Silent Storm listened and decided that he could trust Turnkey enough to believe his words. He downed the rest of his sweet drink set it onto the table with a small *tok*. He trusted very few ponies throughout the city, and of those Turnkey was the only one he'd been brave enough to invite into his home.
"In that case, I'd like to meet your friend very much. If he's anything like you, I'm sure we'll get along just fine," Storm said, considering his mealtime companion's lodging arrangements, "Do you have somewhere to stay tonight? You can use my bed upstairs if you'd like, and I can sleep down here on the bean bags. My home may not look like much, but it's warm in the winter and cool in the summer."
Storm remembered that he had lit the fireplace, and he didn't want to heat the house up too much during this part of the summer. He reached at the lightly flickering blue flame with his hoof and pulled at it, as one would a string, and the flame extinguished itself. He felt his energy drop slightly at the dissipation, but it was of small enough magnitude that he only wobbled a bit then returned to his former posture.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 15, 2012 0:07:06 GMT -5
Turnkey's mind once more went to his tent. It was airy, which was good for summer weather, and there was enough space to house himself and his companions comfortably. Still, he didn't much appreciate when a snake had slithered into his cot a few nights ago, seeking the warmth he was putting off. Nor did he care much for the family of rats that had found their way into his barley stash and taken most of what they hadn't already eaten.
"It would do me good, I think, to stay here tonight, if you are so kind as to offer," he smiled. "After all, I wager that it would be quite a bit more comfortable than I usually have. However, as you have likely already guessed, I have a few quirks that may interfere with the tranquility of your night. For example, there's a very good chance that I'll climb out a window, jump on the roof, and start singing to the moon, sometime between now and when the sun rises over the horizon. So I leave it up to you on whether or not you want me to stay."
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Post by Person on Dec 15, 2012 2:21:14 GMT -5
Silent Storm looked at Turnkey quizzically, trying to figure how and why this unicorn would like to stand upon his house and sing to the moon. Nothing came to mind, but he figured if Turnkey could get himself onto the roof, he could get himself down and it wouldn't do much harm to neither his roof, nor his reputation.
"Just try not to fall," Storm said, "Although my standing in this neighborhood is already low enough that you certainly wouldn't damage it by acting as a bard to the moon."
Storm gathered all the dishes together and brought them back to the kitchen, placing them next to the sink. He'd probably wash them in the morning along with the breakfast. He grabbed the whetstone from the closet and brought it back into the living room with him.
He plopped onto the bean-bag chair Turnkey wasn't currently occupying and released his dagger from its holster. He methodically and gently ground the stone along the edges of his blade to sharpen it where it had dulled from constant use; which was a sort of before-sleep ritual that he performed about every other night. The soft metallic *shing* that sounded every time he drew stone against metal grew into a steady rythym.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 16, 2012 3:11:32 GMT -5
Turnkey almost couldn't believe his ears. Usually, when he let slip that he would sing to the moon at night, ponies would outright withdraw their invitation. Sometimes, when he was loud enough, he would have boots being thrown at him, shortly after an insulting comment concerning a felix, or comparing him to a canus. Of course, he usually didn't sing from rooftops, but rather, hilltops and cliffs, where he could be close to the moon, and in clear view of it.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a blade against a dry stone. The scraping sound broke against his ears with a sharp *shing*. The sound brought back memories of when he had worked with that cutthroat pegasus some years back. What had it been, six years he'd been dead? Sixteen since he had last worked with the accursed assassin? Still, no matter how much he had despised the vomitous alatus, he felt a pain in his heart, knowing that his brother had been an accomplice in his death. He had learned from Bloodstain, if only things that he never thought he would use.
"If I may, a blade will grow sharper if you cast your stone in a mineral oil," Turnkey offered. "And honed it afterward with a magnetic steel to refine the blade at--" he took a moment to examine the thickness and taper of the blade, "Oh, I'd say about... A twenty angle." Then, remembering that he was a guest, reiterated, "If I may."
[Sorry about the nit-picking, but, knives are kind of my thing. Out of all the chefs I work with, I've never found a blade sharper than mine, and I don't even sharpen mine. A good honing session every few uses will keep it in top shape.
Also, I'd like to see your dagger, if you have a drawing of it.]
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Post by Person on Dec 16, 2012 15:32:58 GMT -5
[Dude, knives are kind of my thing, too. I just felt it unnecessary to go into great detail about sharpening the dagger, only to give the information that he was sharpening the knife. I hunt a lot, trust me when I say I know how to sharpen a blade. A well-sharpened knife has saved me on more than one occasion. That said, I did have something planned if you were to respond like you did.]
"I ran out of linseed oil a week ago, and nopony will sell me any since the start of this eclipse. Right now, this is the best I can do. And I hate it when I get metal filaments stuck to the blade from magnetic steel." Silent Storm said. He finished sharpening his blade and looked at himself in its mirror-like surface. He sighed and fell back into the soft expanse of the beanbag, his mind slipping into thoughts of the coming day, flipping the dagger around in his hoof.
He quickly became bored and wanted to do something that might entertain him. An idea, strange and ludicrous as it may be, sparked in his mind.
"Would you like to spar?" Storm asked, "Pegasi in Cloudsdale did it all the time, so I was just wondering if unicorns did the same thing or something similar with magic. Just sitting here in relative awkward silence is unbearably dull, so I wondered if you might want to do something a little more... exciting."
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