lookforheaven (aucontraire_) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-05-20 22:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2018 [05] may, adelaide hawkins, archer avery |
Who: Archer and Adelaide
Where: The kitchens at the Capitol
What: Cooking to clear the mind
When: Bright and early on May 18th
They used to hold weddings at the Texas State Capitol, usually the kind of big white-tie affairs with florists and DJs and rented classic cars, mother-of-the-bride dresses and little chalkboard signs that said things like "Come as you are, stay as long as you can, we're all family here, so no seating plan!" with curlicue letters. The best thing about that is not that there are now always plenty of chairs to go around, or stemware for an army. The best thing about that is the stockpile of food that resulted.
As far as Adelaide has been able to find out, there were three events planned for the upcoming weekend when the shit started to hit the fan - an early morning brunch affair on Sunday, and a pair of nighttime dinners each for 250-plus booked, one each for Friday and Saturday. The options had been chicken florentine with glazed asparagus and garlic mashed potatos, or ribeye with baked and carrots. This being Texas, an overwhelming majority chose that ribeye.
The root vegetables are long gone and the asparagus a memory, but the generators in the Capitol building were at the ready when the power finally went, and the freezers were industrial sized. The steaks have been frozen for quite some time, but they've been careful with the supply. Mostly.
The cans of beef stock and potatoes and carrots that Adelaide adds to a giant pot are well past their 'use by' dates, but the survivors learned long ago that those dates are more like guidelines, anyway, and canned goods kept at stable temperatures last for ages. Adelaide cubes up the beef - far, far less of it than she would like to add - and sets it aside. She stirs the watered down stock and adds in a healthy dose of salt to hopefully make up for the water. Then she reaches over for the rosemary from her small miraculous herb garden as if it's a precious thing - which, she supposes, it is - and breathes in the smell before adding that to the stock, too. The tub of stew should feed a good lot of people for lunch and dinner, but the real point right now is the distraction, and the solitude, of making it. She couldn't sleep, and then Charlie was awake, and so now here they are. Charlie's baby seat is well away from the stove and sharp objects, which Adelaide supposes makes her an okay mother, and he's watching her cook with sleepy baby blues from underneath a striped blue and white hat. He makes her heart skip a little. She still isn't used to his presence in her life.
Every motion is practiced, her knife work confident, but her eyes are far away. Further away than usual, even.
Her brother is alive, and here, and the Dog King. Adelaide scoffs a bit at the title, shakes her head while she adds the beef. "Dog King," she mutters. Maybe it should be amusing, certainly it's just like him, but his infamy means that he can't come and stay here with her, and her husband would never let her just go off and take their son and stay at the Dog Park with those Hellhounds without a fight. He'd burn the place to the ground before he let her go, if she knows him at all. She scoffs again at the terms going through her mind, mutters under her breath - Hellhound, Dog Park... it all sounds so much like a game, some kind of make-believe, and right now it's a game that she can't play. Her hands are tied. It's been running over and over in her head for days, and still she hasn't thought of a way around it.
She notices sounds of someone approaching, and hopes as she turns that they don't think she's too cracked, standing here talking to herself.