[Pancake house....]
... Prefer?
[He's suddenly embarrassed to admit that he typically is so focused on his work that he gives tea very little thought, and the majority of the time whatever service is provided is simply decided by the staff. It's not as if he often takes tea with others.
But if he were to actually give it thought? Hm. His brow is creasing as he's clearly ruminating over it, his hands finding the convenient distraction of sampling the pancake.]
Smoken salmon and dill on dark bread. And scones with clotted cream and rose petal jam.
[A pause, as arriving at an answer allows his thoughts to come back to the moment.]
But these are quite good, Kaspar. The sharper flavor from the zest is an interesting contrast with the soft texture.
... Prefer?
[He's suddenly embarrassed to admit that he typically is so focused on his work that he gives tea very little thought, and the majority of the time whatever service is provided is simply decided by the staff. It's not as if he often takes tea with others.
But if he were to actually give it thought? Hm. His brow is creasing as he's clearly ruminating over it, his hands finding the convenient distraction of sampling the pancake.]
Smoken salmon and dill on dark bread. And scones with clotted cream and rose petal jam.
[A pause, as arriving at an answer allows his thoughts to come back to the moment.]
But these are quite good, Kaspar. The sharper flavor from the zest is an interesting contrast with the soft texture.
[ Salmon, dark bread, scones, clotted cream, jam-- Kaspar wonders at what some of those things even are. But the way van Zieks says it so easily, makes him hum with the energy of exciting and unknown things. It's a unique feeling, hungering for tastes he's never known.
He blinks at the comment though. More genuine surprise than most get from him. Many might be able to tell his alterations tasted better this way, but not the exact reason. He'd been beginning to think his sensitive palate was unique above ground.
Being ignored is now water beneath the bridge. One paved with compliments from someone who would not say it if he did not mean it. It isn't quite gratitude, but paired with being declared a good host it still hits him in the chest and has him smiling happily into his own plate of pancakes. There is a beat, casually enjoying his first bite before he speaks again.
He probably means food: ]
... do you, have a favorite?
He blinks at the comment though. More genuine surprise than most get from him. Many might be able to tell his alterations tasted better this way, but not the exact reason. He'd been beginning to think his sensitive palate was unique above ground.
Being ignored is now water beneath the bridge. One paved with compliments from someone who would not say it if he did not mean it. It isn't quite gratitude, but paired with being declared a good host it still hits him in the chest and has him smiling happily into his own plate of pancakes. There is a beat, casually enjoying his first bite before he speaks again.
He probably means food: ]
... do you, have a favorite?
[It does take van Zieks a moment to parse what he's asking, but luckily he's able to intuit it. He thinks it over as he continues eating.]
Around holidays, we'd often have game pie. I'd join Klint for a hunt and the cooks would use whatever we brought back, along with wild mushrooms, and a red wine sauce. Though they're typically served cold, Klint preferred it served warm, and so that was what we did. I personally liked to have it with a bit of cranberry sauce as well.
[But obviously, it's a favorite for more reasons than just the flavor.]
Around holidays, we'd often have game pie. I'd join Klint for a hunt and the cooks would use whatever we brought back, along with wild mushrooms, and a red wine sauce. Though they're typically served cold, Klint preferred it served warm, and so that was what we did. I personally liked to have it with a bit of cranberry sauce as well.
[But obviously, it's a favorite for more reasons than just the flavor.]
[ This is the information that delights Kaspar, in that subdued way of his. The detail van Zieks provides keeps his gaze enticed away from looking outside or to things he plans to fix later.
He has no idea whether van Zieks means fishing or if game is yet another strange meat related term from animals he never knew existed until arriving here ]
What does, game taste like?
He has no idea whether van Zieks means fishing or if game is yet another strange meat related term from animals he never knew existed until arriving here ]
What does, game taste like?
[He blinks. Well, maybe they don't hunt where Kaspar is from?? They are In A Mountain, he supposes that might as well be the case. It doesn't occur to him that there's basically no other meat options, that will have to come later.]
Ah, well, that's a catch-all term for a variety of meats that are common in sport hunting. Rabbit, pheasant, quail, venison, and such. The flavors will vary depending on what animals are included, but in general, these are wild animals rather than domestic ones, and thus their flavor is usually... hm. Deeper, more earthy, I suppose?
Ah, well, that's a catch-all term for a variety of meats that are common in sport hunting. Rabbit, pheasant, quail, venison, and such. The flavors will vary depending on what animals are included, but in general, these are wild animals rather than domestic ones, and thus their flavor is usually... hm. Deeper, more earthy, I suppose?
[ Not any type of hunting that van Zieks might think of. There were trying times in the distant past under the mountain. It is a wonder they eked out survival there at all. Meats that most humans from other worlds know of are still a mystery to him.
Kaspar finds he enjoys listening to him describe such things. The very type of sentiments over taste and feel that he has always struggled with in real time. But here, van Zieks makes it look easy.
He hums in understanding, without explaining the full depth of his ignorance. It is hardly relevant now that he endeavors to try his hand at making the things van Zieks mentioned today. Or some approximation of them. ]
... and do you prefer it warm, too?
Kaspar finds he enjoys listening to him describe such things. The very type of sentiments over taste and feel that he has always struggled with in real time. But here, van Zieks makes it look easy.
He hums in understanding, without explaining the full depth of his ignorance. It is hardly relevant now that he endeavors to try his hand at making the things van Zieks mentioned today. Or some approximation of them. ]
... and do you prefer it warm, too?
Mm, it's how I'm used to having it, after all.
[Pausing, before it occurs to him why Kaspar might be asking.]
That said, you certainly cannot extend any further hospitality to me before I return the favor.
[No pie!!!! He already feels like he's imposing a little!!!]
[Pausing, before it occurs to him why Kaspar might be asking.]
That said, you certainly cannot extend any further hospitality to me before I return the favor.
[No pie!!!! He already feels like he's imposing a little!!!]
[ Kaspar blinks, unused to being so easily read. It is brief, feeling seen for once. For some, it might be an unsettling thing, but for Kaspar it only brushes at his deeper need for being understood and puts color high on his cheeks.
He jokes airily and without the tone to indicate it as such, before returning to his pancakes-- ]
You cook, as well?
He jokes airily and without the tone to indicate it as such, before returning to his pancakes-- ]
You cook, as well?
[ Kaspar believes him, smile warm despite the wave of his hand to dismiss the necessity of returned favors. He still plans to learn how to make them regardless. ]
Your thoughts, are favor enough.
[ Van Zieks is a great taste tester. ]
Your thoughts, are favor enough.
[ Van Zieks is a great taste tester. ]
Wh-
[STOP BEING NICE TO HIM?? IT'S CONFUSING!!!!]
That-My thoughts are hardly worth that much. But thank you, for your company and your kindness, but I really must be going.
[Yes he's just running away because it's all become too much for him. He's standing up.]
[STOP BEING NICE TO HIM?? IT'S CONFUSING!!!!]
That-My thoughts are hardly worth that much. But thank you, for your company and your kindness, but I really must be going.
[Yes he's just running away because it's all become too much for him. He's standing up.]
[ Kaspar is nonplussed by this, though he supposes he must improve his food pairings with tea in the future. He nods without losing his calm smile, and without rising from where he reaches for his tea.
Something tells him his new friend would rather make the walk home alone. ]
Something tells him his new friend would rather make the walk home alone. ]
[ Kaspar arrives a healthy time after nightfall, easy to spot in the dark. His skin glows softly, off white and bioluminescent. Emanating brightest from his eyes, flecks of light blue tint his usually light grey eyes. If one looks close, Kaspar's glow is slightly sharper at his veins and softest at the tiny pins of light that dusts his skin like barely there freckles.
The night air is cooler, giving him cause to change shirts between the slides and now. Tight white undershirt, mostly covered by longer sleeved flannel. His trousers, leather boots, and usual gear make a return. The most curious new thing may be the blanket and basket he carries with him.
He can see better in the dim lighting than a normal human, scanning for any sign of the other man. Or a campfire. ]
The night air is cooler, giving him cause to change shirts between the slides and now. Tight white undershirt, mostly covered by longer sleeved flannel. His trousers, leather boots, and usual gear make a return. The most curious new thing may be the blanket and basket he carries with him.
He can see better in the dim lighting than a normal human, scanning for any sign of the other man. Or a campfire. ]
[He's done his due diligence here - he's definitely not at all new to the idea of campfires, though it has been a bit since he last needed one. The last time he can recall was several months prior to coming here, during his damnable work on the road. But campfires, and hell, just having a nice quiet night in general during times like that were like a bit of heaven. A small slice of peace in heavy times.]
[He whistles as he goes along with some chunks of wood under his armpit - he's procured a lighter, too. He could make a fire the old-fashioned way, and he's still considering it, just to show off, but he has one just in case.]
[He isn't sure what he's looking at when Kaspar arrives - a trick of the dark? But when the man gets closer, he stops in place, surprised. The man's...glowing.]
Oh, wow. [The words seem to slip out, genuinely impressed.] You didn't tell me you could do this. You're like a night sky on the countryside, you are.
[He whistles as he goes along with some chunks of wood under his armpit - he's procured a lighter, too. He could make a fire the old-fashioned way, and he's still considering it, just to show off, but he has one just in case.]
[He isn't sure what he's looking at when Kaspar arrives - a trick of the dark? But when the man gets closer, he stops in place, surprised. The man's...glowing.]
Oh, wow. [The words seem to slip out, genuinely impressed.] You didn't tell me you could do this. You're like a night sky on the countryside, you are.
Hm?
[ Kaspar tilts his head, unsure what Steinbeck means at first. Everyone has gotten used to it, he thinks. That or many were too polite to mention it so directly. But he smiles, glow flickering a little at the comparison to the sky. The stars and the swathes of colors are such lovely, beautifully new things for Kaspar. Having spent his whole life before in Groscia, a country buried under the great mountains, there are still many things that have yet to be learned in just over a month. At least he can now bear the sunset without shedding tears.
His words come easier here, away from the crowds as he moves to squat curiously beside the work Steinbeck is putting in. He holds up a glowing hand, newly released from a glove. ]
This is normal, for humans.
[ At least where he's from. ]
[ Kaspar tilts his head, unsure what Steinbeck means at first. Everyone has gotten used to it, he thinks. That or many were too polite to mention it so directly. But he smiles, glow flickering a little at the comparison to the sky. The stars and the swathes of colors are such lovely, beautifully new things for Kaspar. Having spent his whole life before in Groscia, a country buried under the great mountains, there are still many things that have yet to be learned in just over a month. At least he can now bear the sunset without shedding tears.
His words come easier here, away from the crowds as he moves to squat curiously beside the work Steinbeck is putting in. He holds up a glowing hand, newly released from a glove. ]
This is normal, for humans.
[ At least where he's from. ]
Really? Well, people can do all sorts of things at home. But I've never seen them do things like that.
[The abilities he thinks of are stranger, weirder, bizarre, more....cruel. He's pretty sure an ability user with the ability to glow could probably have a nice, quiet life.]
Guess it makes it easier to sleep on nights like this. [He moves to squat down, use a free hand to brush away dirt and sticks from the ground to make a bit of a clearing before starting to put the wood down.] Don't have to worry about using a flashlight, either.
[The abilities he thinks of are stranger, weirder, bizarre, more....cruel. He's pretty sure an ability user with the ability to glow could probably have a nice, quiet life.]
Guess it makes it easier to sleep on nights like this. [He moves to squat down, use a free hand to brush away dirt and sticks from the ground to make a bit of a clearing before starting to put the wood down.] Don't have to worry about using a flashlight, either.
... What sorts, of things?
[ Kaspar asks after a beat casually enough that he expects something normal. Like blood weapons, the light of Orm, or magic.
He sets his basket aside to rest his chin in his hands while he watches this process with unbridled curiosity. The large blanket he brought gets tucked beneath his elbows and into his lap naturally. ]
[ Kaspar asks after a beat casually enough that he expects something normal. Like blood weapons, the light of Orm, or magic.
He sets his basket aside to rest his chin in his hands while he watches this process with unbridled curiosity. The large blanket he brought gets tucked beneath his elbows and into his lap naturally. ]
Ah, I almost think you wouldn't believe me, but then again, you glow, so...
[A bit of a pause as he stands up to admire his own little pile of wood, making sure nothing is close enough to catch flame on accident.]
Lets just say some people are born with abilities. One guy I knew could summon a giant ship in the shape of a whale. Another little lady could make a whole space in a space where she could trap people.
[A bit of a pause as he stands up to admire his own little pile of wood, making sure nothing is close enough to catch flame on accident.]
Lets just say some people are born with abilities. One guy I knew could summon a giant ship in the shape of a whale. Another little lady could make a whole space in a space where she could trap people.
[ Kaspar has no clue what a whale is, so it's difficult to imagine. Not that it stops him from trying regardless. His expression gives little of his ignorance away as he listens. A space within a space is an even harder concept to wrap his mind around. But it is fun to try.
He slides his basket farther from the pit, seemingly caught on to where the fire will go. But he remains squatting in his front row seat. It is normal for the light of Orm to produce varied abilities in Groscians, but he is pretty sure everyone has something they can do, however useless it might turn out to be.
So it follows in his own logic to innocently ask-- ]
... were you born with one, too?
He slides his basket farther from the pit, seemingly caught on to where the fire will go. But he remains squatting in his front row seat. It is normal for the light of Orm to produce varied abilities in Groscians, but he is pretty sure everyone has something they can do, however useless it might turn out to be.
So it follows in his own logic to innocently ask-- ]
... were you born with one, too?
[...]
[For the first time, he's quiet, moving to toss away a few twigs before he pulls out the lighter. A click of it, and he's bending down to set fire to the wood, watching as the flame starts off small, before growing to a flare. The woods starts to crackle a little, and Steinbeck steps back to watch it go, before finally saying, quietly.]
Some abilities are better than others. [...] It's a nasty world, regardless. Wouldn't wish it on you.
[He knows he isn't answering the question, but...well.]
[For the first time, he's quiet, moving to toss away a few twigs before he pulls out the lighter. A click of it, and he's bending down to set fire to the wood, watching as the flame starts off small, before growing to a flare. The woods starts to crackle a little, and Steinbeck steps back to watch it go, before finally saying, quietly.]
Some abilities are better than others. [...] It's a nasty world, regardless. Wouldn't wish it on you.
[He knows he isn't answering the question, but...well.]
Edited 2023-01-19 15:41 (UTC)
[ Kaspar notices, but is just as patient as others must be for him to find words. He doesn't search now, watching the process with curious interest.
He was less interested in the answer than getting to know the other man, not that it quells his curiosity over it. Steinbeck will tell him or he won't, it would hardly change the person he sees illuminated in the now flickering warmth of the fire. His own glow lessens in the face of another light source, though it ends up warming the faint glow with oranges and reds. He hums softly, unable to deny the similarities, but similarly unwilling to label Groscia nasty. Despite its trespasses against his liberty or his unwillingness to return, it was home and there was still beauty underneath the regime and the blood.
Instead, Kaspar lets his body fall back to being seated cross legged, gesturing to the space beside him. Time to change the subject. ]
... Hungry?
He was less interested in the answer than getting to know the other man, not that it quells his curiosity over it. Steinbeck will tell him or he won't, it would hardly change the person he sees illuminated in the now flickering warmth of the fire. His own glow lessens in the face of another light source, though it ends up warming the faint glow with oranges and reds. He hums softly, unable to deny the similarities, but similarly unwilling to label Groscia nasty. Despite its trespasses against his liberty or his unwillingness to return, it was home and there was still beauty underneath the regime and the blood.
Instead, Kaspar lets his body fall back to being seated cross legged, gesturing to the space beside him. Time to change the subject. ]
... Hungry?
[Pleased with the fire, he moves back, noticing Kaspar's gesture - and of course, takes the invitation, sitting down in a cross-legged mimicry of the other right next to him. The warmth reminds him of simpler times, the crackle and smell of the wood lighting up his senses. He did this with his family, back in the day. How long has it been...?]
[The question makes him turn to the other (its so interesting, he thinks, to see the glow of the man's skin illuminated by natural flame, and its a beautiful sight of it's own) and he smiles, nodding.]
Sure. [He tilts his head.] Did you bring something?
[The question makes him turn to the other (its so interesting, he thinks, to see the glow of the man's skin illuminated by natural flame, and its a beautiful sight of it's own) and he smiles, nodding.]
Sure. [He tilts his head.] Did you bring something?
[ post drunken summer meeting ] [ closed to sylvando ]
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bluminescence
2023-01-19 04:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Kaspar shows up at Sylvando's, only a little late. He is unhurried walking along the sand, leather boots sinking slightly. He is too easily distracted by what the man's place looks from the first sight of it that he catches (no matter what it actually looks like). His gaze drifts over the farm in detail, eventually wandering out across the beach to squint at the sunlight on the waves.
His interest in dancing had been genuine. An solitary interest, one he still felt the tightening of his throat over the thought of doing it in from of anyone else. He might have asked on his own eventually. Possibly. But the wine had hastened his whims along into reality. And there was no denying he wanted to know now that Sylvando knows and is still willing to show him. Curiosity, about dancing and his fascination about everything that Sylvando is, their contrasts and commonalities, drums energy into the look in his eyes. More words or less, both are as equally themselves in their own ways. His calm smile matches his quiet steps.
Sober and well rested, with a closed basket under one arm, it is hard to notice the extra time he took to look nice today. But he has accepted things, lending confidence and peace to how he carries himself fearlessly into the unknown. It is Sylvando, so he doubts it won't be fun, whether he is good at spicy dancing or not.
Wearing his more relaxed yet well fitted summer clothes in light textiles and colors. Short sleeved shirt and pants, in whites and blues, he fills them out predictably well. He was fit before, and farm work has only been kind to him since. Kaspar us prepared for movement, for it to be easy to tell if he is getting a move right or wrong, with the sole exception of his leather boots. His hair is styled in his usual effortless looking way, leaving a blue summer flower from the forest tucked behind his ear. Those in the know, might realize how much effort he happily puts in on a daily basis anyway, simply for the joy of it.
If Sylvando hasn't noticed him out here daydreaming, he will knock eventually. ]
His interest in dancing had been genuine. An solitary interest, one he still felt the tightening of his throat over the thought of doing it in from of anyone else. He might have asked on his own eventually. Possibly. But the wine had hastened his whims along into reality. And there was no denying he wanted to know now that Sylvando knows and is still willing to show him. Curiosity, about dancing and his fascination about everything that Sylvando is, their contrasts and commonalities, drums energy into the look in his eyes. More words or less, both are as equally themselves in their own ways. His calm smile matches his quiet steps.
Sober and well rested, with a closed basket under one arm, it is hard to notice the extra time he took to look nice today. But he has accepted things, lending confidence and peace to how he carries himself fearlessly into the unknown. It is Sylvando, so he doubts it won't be fun, whether he is good at spicy dancing or not.
Wearing his more relaxed yet well fitted summer clothes in light textiles and colors. Short sleeved shirt and pants, in whites and blues, he fills them out predictably well. He was fit before, and farm work has only been kind to him since. Kaspar us prepared for movement, for it to be easy to tell if he is getting a move right or wrong, with the sole exception of his leather boots. His hair is styled in his usual effortless looking way, leaving a blue summer flower from the forest tucked behind his ear. Those in the know, might realize how much effort he happily puts in on a daily basis anyway, simply for the joy of it.
If Sylvando hasn't noticed him out here daydreaming, he will knock eventually. ]
[ Kaspar nods, offering Steinbeck a portion of the blanket he spreads over his knees. There is no insistence or expectation, just the simple offer before he moves on to pulling the basket onto his lap.
Opening it reveals it was packed surprisingly carefully. A few containers with food and napkins carefully protecting two cups, and finally a kettle which he sets to the side for now.
What he casually opens first, is the small container of what look to be rinds of some kind. Kaspar takes one with a slight crunch at the same time that he offers another to Steinbeck.
If he's brave enough, there is a unique flavor to it but it not entirely unlike pork. ]
Opening it reveals it was packed surprisingly carefully. A few containers with food and napkins carefully protecting two cups, and finally a kettle which he sets to the side for now.
What he casually opens first, is the small container of what look to be rinds of some kind. Kaspar takes one with a slight crunch at the same time that he offers another to Steinbeck.
If he's brave enough, there is a unique flavor to it but it not entirely unlike pork. ]
[He can't help but smile at the offered blanket, and he shifts closer to drape it over his knees, before glancing at the offerings. He can't...recognize them, but so what? He'll reach over and pop one in his mouth. It's crunchy, with a surprising chew near the end, and he swallows.]
Oh, that's good. [He'll reach for another.] Did you make these yourself?
[He assumes they were made, somehow.]
Oh, that's good. [He'll reach for another.] Did you make these yourself?
[He assumes they were made, somehow.]
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