[ Lara lets out another laugh as Alayne leads her to the counters. ] I'm already regretting my offer! Next time, I shall take a cue from Lady, and watch while you work.
[ But, Lara, despite her words, immediately sets to helping, doing whatever Alayne asks of her with not a single complaint and a smile on her lips. It's been a good long time since she got to work in a kitchen. ]
Lady's seat may seem lofty now but just you wait and see, [ Alayne declares craftily. ] She shall have no choice but to pull her weight with time.
[ Hot air mostly. Everyone knew that Alayne spoiled Lady terribly, a symptom of having lost the direwolf once and not wanting to ever lose her again. True, she was tasked with Alayne's own safety but that was nothing compared to how often she fawned over the beast, sometimes skimping her own meals to make sure Lady was happy and properly fed.
On the counter there are some vegetables still warm from the stovetop. Lentils bubble away in a pot which Lara is welcome to spoon out onto the waiting plate. ] The fare here is worlds beyond that of the Charon. [ Which was to say: no creamed corn, thank the gods. ]
[ Lara begins dutifully spooning the lentils onto the plate, smiling to herself. In the face of this new place, Lara feels this small sense of normalcy standing here next to Alayne, plating food. It's almost as if everything was all right, and they weren't back in COMPASS' clutches. ]
If I never have to see creamed corn again, it'll be too soon. [ a beat ] This smells fantastic, by the way.
[ Alayne's mouth pinches in an attempt not to grin so openly. There is something sisterly in the way she moves to Lara's side and allows their elbows to bump one another's. Gentle but sweet. (If only Arya would indulge in such things rather than grabbing her food and scampering off to places elsewhere in the dorms—) ]
You only say that because it is not creamed corn. My skills are modest at best. [ Back home there were cooks and servants to see to the meals. The only thing Sansa ever learned to make with her own hands were lemoncakes, and lemons were in short supply here. ]
You sell yourself short, Alayne. [ She turns her gaze from the simmering pot to the sweet young woman beside her, feeling a wave of affection. Alayne is all sweetness, and modesty; the very image of the perfect young lady, and Lara feels this need to keep her safe, to ensure that no one takes advantage of that sweetness.
This must be what having a sibling feels like, though it lacks the bickering she's heard so much about. ] You're no top chef, that's true, but you're doing a lot better than most; I can only imagine you'll get even better as times goes on.
[ Better to sell one's self short than to oversell and leave a person wanting. By being modest Alayne found it possible to take certain people off-guard and to jog them (oftentimes pleasantly) into a disarmed state of surprise. Beyond that, it often won her praise and encouragement the likes of which Lara offers now readily.
And what teenage girl — medieval, fantastical or not — didn't long for praise in one form or another? ]
I've no doubt you would have faired better. Necessity has been my only teacher; in Westeros I would, to this day, have remained painfully ignorant of such things.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
» a c t i o n !
[ But, Lara, despite her words, immediately sets to helping, doing whatever Alayne asks of her with not a single complaint and a smile on her lips. It's been a good long time since she got to work in a kitchen. ]
» a c t i o n !
[ Hot air mostly. Everyone knew that Alayne spoiled Lady terribly, a symptom of having lost the direwolf once and not wanting to ever lose her again. True, she was tasked with Alayne's own safety but that was nothing compared to how often she fawned over the beast, sometimes skimping her own meals to make sure Lady was happy and properly fed.
On the counter there are some vegetables still warm from the stovetop. Lentils bubble away in a pot which Lara is welcome to spoon out onto the waiting plate. ] The fare here is worlds beyond that of the Charon. [ Which was to say: no creamed corn, thank the gods. ]
» a c t i o n !
If I never have to see creamed corn again, it'll be too soon. [ a beat ] This smells fantastic, by the way.
» a c t i o n !
You only say that because it is not creamed corn. My skills are modest at best. [ Back home there were cooks and servants to see to the meals. The only thing Sansa ever learned to make with her own hands were lemoncakes, and lemons were in short supply here. ]
» a c t i o n !
This must be what having a sibling feels like, though it lacks the bickering she's heard so much about. ] You're no top chef, that's true, but you're doing a lot better than most; I can only imagine you'll get even better as times goes on.
» a c t i o n !
And what teenage girl — medieval, fantastical or not — didn't long for praise in one form or another? ]
I've no doubt you would have faired better. Necessity has been my only teacher; in Westeros I would, to this day, have remained painfully ignorant of such things.