[ 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. ]
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.
[ 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.
[ 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-- ]
[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.]
[ 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. ]
[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?
[ 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. ]
[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?
[ The skins, he means. But he is the natural type of cook to lead with his own tastes over the following of strict recipes, meaning edible finds from the forest or otherwise often make their way into his cooking.
Kaspar eats another rind before moving to set their container on Steinbeck's lap. Moving on to the second, he opens this one with some care. These look more like small meat pies, but there are only two. At least, these have more inside them than worms. Their edges are browned, still warm inside and out. Clearly, these are the culprits behind his slight tardiness.
He offers Steinbeck one with a napkin. It might be obvious by the way he says it that the words are just as new. ]
[Even if they are worms, which he hasn't realized, but...then again, he probably wouldn't care all too much. The earth provides all the food people needs, even if its creepy and crawly. (Not that he would go for worms over anything else, but...he would understand the inclination.)]
[He takes the container, curiously peering over at the new offering, before his eyes brighten, catching the glow from both Kaspar and the flames before them.]
Yeah, I have! I mean, probably not like, an official recipe or anything. [He says, grinning.] Ma and Pa would make pies sometimes like this if we caught something good. What game are they made of?
[ Kaspar hums thoughtfully, realizing his potential mistake here. Game pie was what he was recreating but he hadn't actually hunted anything at all. He's figured out that's what game refers to. Hunting, a gamey taste, but no first hand knowledge.
He's not sure beef and worms count for this, but he hadn't gotten to experimenting with anything else yet. The crust and consistency had been work enough so far. Airily, he answers with a question-- ]
... What does it taste like?
[ Kaspar takes a bite of his own, careful with the flaky crust. ]
[Ah, no answer. Well...he personally hadn't seen any game here. He does guess (correctly) that this may be just game pie in name only, but it doesn't matter. He'll take in a big bite, chewing thoughtfully - again, it seems similar to the rinds from before, but its not bad at all.]
Mm. You mean, this game pie? Or the ones we make at home? As far as the ones at home, we usually throw in vegetables in there with a nice sauce full of spices. Ma always liked it more plain, though, but I guess as far as taste its a bit more gritty than regular old meat you find at the market, along with whatever spices you wanted to throw in.
[ Kaspar listens like that's what he meant. It's an interesting enough answer that he might as well have meant it. His own pies have some seasoning, though he still needed to work out adding more vegetables. At least, that's what he gathers from this taste test so far.
They might be similar to the rinds with worms as filler, but they do also have some beef in them from the grocery store. Some spices too, herbs from the forest, made it in the mix. Nothing like the sauce he describes. ]
[He chews more - its obvious he likes it, making sure to snack on some of those rinds from before between bites.]
On cold nights, maybe. But I think a pie well done is always nice, no matter if its sweet or savory or anything in between. I'm not picky. Though one of my sisters would fight me to the death for an apple pie. I tend to just leave her the last slice of them when we share because she's so cute.
[ Kaspar breathes a warm little laugh at his anecdote, finding that he enjoys the glimpses into another life. It isn't the first time he thinks of his younger brothers and what Kaspar missed of their youth in school and then the tunnels. He isn't the type to linger on memories or his lack of regrets. Unburdened, Kaspar lets the taste of his next bite wash over him as he listens.
There is a comfortable friendliness encouraged by the warmth of a shared meal and the crackling of fire broken only by he shift of wood as it slowly turns to ash. He looks over at Steinbeck just before leaning enough to gently bump shoulders. ]
[Remembering his siblings always makes Steinbeck feel warm - there's something about family that sinks into his chest, lightens up what he thought was long gone dark. No matter what, the people he loves matter to him, above all else.]
[Sometimes it still feels like he has a soul.]
[He smiles, almost a little bashful, at the shoulder bump - he bumps the other back, cheekily.]
Aw, come on, you're doing way too much for me! But look, could I say no to that? I couldn't. I really need to make it up to you. Ain't right to sit there and not let the cook have a good time, too.
[ Kaspar's own siblings bring a wealth of mixed feelings. Love, surely, but also the bittersweet that comes from the ceasing of returned letters. Knowing of nieces and nephews he'll likely never be allowed to meet because of his choices.
Why linger on what can't be helped? His brothers will live their lives the way they wish, with or without his presence. None of this stops the warmth from reaching his smile. It means something, to hear someone speak of their family like Steinbeck does.
He shakes his head, airily reassuring him. ]
Learning new recipes is a good time, I believe.
[ After another bite. ]
... Would you like to help?
edited (Look. It's early I'm sorry ggggydfdhhd) 2023-01-20 15:22 (UTC)
[He finishes his own pie off in no time, wiping his mouth off with the back of his arm, seemingly uncaring if he has flakes left or not. He's not exactly prim or proper, and doesn't care to be. His manners only extend s far as his words, relatively polite even if he has to bite his tongue to do it.]
You missed a spot. [He reaches over, as if its natural, to swipe at a flake on the other's chin with a thumb.] There we go. You really made a wonderful meal.
[ Kaspar blinks, but otherwise quietly accepts the gesture just as naturally. What hits him more solidly and puts a little color high on his already glowing cheeks is the gratitude. It might be hard to tell in the dark with the tinge of the fire.
For things he cares about offering the world, words like those still resounds in his chest, deeper than he lets on. Others have shown their thanks here, and this feels like such a little thing that he doesn't get overly caught up in it. ]
And you made a wonderful campfire.
[ Kaspar says as he slides the basket away to join the untouched kettle at his side opposite Steinbeck. He hadn't thought the kettle through but it is just as well. Water and teabags sit untouched with no way to really set it over the fire properly.
He leans on him slightly to take the rind container if it is empty. If not, he's stealing one for himself. ]
[Because what is life, if not to rest back, close your eyes, and enjoy the simply things like this? A brilliant night, a crackling fire, a meal shared with one another.]
[He doesn't even protest as the man leans in, glancing at the kettle before tilting the rind container towards him, with a few still left. Take all you want, my man.]
Hey. So. What was that singing in front of a campfire, hm?
[ Kaspar does take one rind, popping it into his mouth before retreating again. His gaze drifts to the stars as the rind crunches between his teeth. The smell of the fire is something too, combining with the taste in his mouth like barbecue or smoked meats. It has him inhaling subtly, then sighing through his nose softly.
He covers his mouth when that question lowers his gaze back to Steinbeck. Kaspar swallows, arm falling to support his weight when he leans back. Ah, now he really is flushing a little, but there is no shame. Caught in the trap of his own drunken making.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninetydegrees
dhfhf
2023-01-18 19:21 (UTC)[ 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. ]
Re: dhfhf
2023-01-18 19:40 (UTC)[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.
no subject
2023-01-18 20:08 (UTC)[ 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. ]
no subject
2023-01-18 20:52 (UTC)[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.
no subject
2023-01-18 21:37 (UTC)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?
no subject
2023-01-18 21:44 (UTC)[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.]
no subject
2023-01-19 15:55 (UTC)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?
no subject
2023-01-19 16:34 (UTC)[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?
no subject
2023-01-19 17:02 (UTC)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. ]
no subject
2023-01-19 17:24 (UTC)Oh, that's good. [He'll reach for another.] Did you make these yourself?
[He assumes they were made, somehow.]
no subject
2023-01-19 18:15 (UTC)[ The skins, he means. But he is the natural type of cook to lead with his own tastes over the following of strict recipes, meaning edible finds from the forest or otherwise often make their way into his cooking.
Kaspar eats another rind before moving to set their container on Steinbeck's lap. Moving on to the second, he opens this one with some care. These look more like small meat pies, but there are only two. At least, these have more inside them than worms. Their edges are browned, still warm inside and out. Clearly, these are the culprits behind his slight tardiness.
He offers Steinbeck one with a napkin. It might be obvious by the way he says it that the words are just as new. ]
Have you, had game pie? This recipe, is new.
no subject
2023-01-20 02:53 (UTC)[Even if they are worms, which he hasn't realized, but...then again, he probably wouldn't care all too much. The earth provides all the food people needs, even if its creepy and crawly. (Not that he would go for worms over anything else, but...he would understand the inclination.)]
[He takes the container, curiously peering over at the new offering, before his eyes brighten, catching the glow from both Kaspar and the flames before them.]
Yeah, I have! I mean, probably not like, an official recipe or anything. [He says, grinning.] Ma and Pa would make pies sometimes like this if we caught something good. What game are they made of?
no subject
2023-01-20 03:32 (UTC)He's not sure beef and worms count for this, but he hadn't gotten to experimenting with anything else yet. The crust and consistency had been work enough so far. Airily, he answers with a question-- ]
... What does it taste like?
[ Kaspar takes a bite of his own, careful with the flaky crust. ]
no subject
2023-01-20 03:37 (UTC)Mm. You mean, this game pie? Or the ones we make at home? As far as the ones at home, we usually throw in vegetables in there with a nice sauce full of spices. Ma always liked it more plain, though, but I guess as far as taste its a bit more gritty than regular old meat you find at the market, along with whatever spices you wanted to throw in.
no subject
2023-01-20 04:30 (UTC)They might be similar to the rinds with worms as filler, but they do also have some beef in them from the grocery store. Some spices too, herbs from the forest, made it in the mix. Nothing like the sauce he describes. ]
... do you like them spicier?
no subject
2023-01-20 05:26 (UTC)[He chews more - its obvious he likes it, making sure to snack on some of those rinds from before between bites.]
On cold nights, maybe. But I think a pie well done is always nice, no matter if its sweet or savory or anything in between. I'm not picky. Though one of my sisters would fight me to the death for an apple pie. I tend to just leave her the last slice of them when we share because she's so cute.
no subject
2023-01-20 10:59 (UTC)There is a comfortable friendliness encouraged by the warmth of a shared meal and the crackling of fire broken only by he shift of wood as it slowly turns to ash. He looks over at Steinbeck just before leaning enough to gently bump shoulders. ]
Should I, bake you an apple pie?
no subject
2023-01-20 14:45 (UTC)[Sometimes it still feels like he has a soul.]
[He smiles, almost a little bashful, at the shoulder bump - he bumps the other back, cheekily.]
Aw, come on, you're doing way too much for me! But look, could I say no to that? I couldn't. I really need to make it up to you. Ain't right to sit there and not let the cook have a good time, too.
no subject
2023-01-20 15:21 (UTC)Why linger on what can't be helped? His brothers will live their lives the way they wish, with or without his presence. None of this stops the warmth from reaching his smile. It means something, to hear someone speak of their family like Steinbeck does.
He shakes his head, airily reassuring him. ]
Learning new recipes is a good time, I believe.
[ After another bite. ]
... Would you like to help?
no subject
2023-01-20 15:41 (UTC)As if I'd miss out on that. I'll even throw in a few pie tips, free of charge.
[And a hearty little laugh, blue eyes wide and excitable.]
You'll be the best apple pie cook by the time I'm done with you.
no subject
2023-01-20 15:56 (UTC)His own little laugh mirrors Steinbeck's excitement in his own subdued way. With bright eyes and glow flickering happily-- ]
... I'd like that.
[ And back to eating again, licking at the flakes left on his lips from behind his hand. ]
no subject
2023-01-20 16:13 (UTC)You missed a spot. [He reaches over, as if its natural, to swipe at a flake on the other's chin with a thumb.] There we go. You really made a wonderful meal.
no subject
2023-01-20 16:38 (UTC)For things he cares about offering the world, words like those still resounds in his chest, deeper than he lets on. Others have shown their thanks here, and this feels like such a little thing that he doesn't get overly caught up in it. ]
And you made a wonderful campfire.
[ Kaspar says as he slides the basket away to join the untouched kettle at his side opposite Steinbeck. He hadn't thought the kettle through but it is just as well. Water and teabags sit untouched with no way to really set it over the fire properly.
He leans on him slightly to take the rind container if it is empty. If not, he's stealing one for himself. ]
no subject
2023-01-20 19:13 (UTC)[Because what is life, if not to rest back, close your eyes, and enjoy the simply things like this? A brilliant night, a crackling fire, a meal shared with one another.]
[He doesn't even protest as the man leans in, glancing at the kettle before tilting the rind container towards him, with a few still left. Take all you want, my man.]
Hey. So. What was that singing in front of a campfire, hm?
no subject
2023-01-20 19:33 (UTC)He covers his mouth when that question lowers his gaze back to Steinbeck. Kaspar swallows, arm falling to support his weight when he leans back. Ah, now he really is flushing a little, but there is no shame. Caught in the trap of his own drunken making.
But... it is just the two of them. ]
... what kind of songs do you like?
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bycw: past violent militaristic childhood mentions in here (also dont mind this unfinished icon orz)
bycw: self harm and suicide mention
byCw: some vague past homophobia
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byCw uhhhh nsfw now 🙈
bycampfire truly got some heat to it
byCw glowing bjs
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