Quoted By:
That wasn’t looking pretty, you thought as you pulled out the pofesen, dripping, from what had become a sea with a coffee hue. Somebody had turned on the blowers for the place and the smoke wasn’t building up anymore, but during the process, somebody you didn’t know had interfered and dialed down the stove burner without saying a word. Nobody had said anything about it, so it’d have to pass.
All in all, you couldn’t deny that your dish was amateurish, setting it up. That was what the powdered sugar was supposed to fix, though, right? Plenty of the stuff, too, an amount you could only dream about in the past. Pofesen had been normal enough to eat for you in the past, but the luxury of sugar or honey or fruit wasn’t terribly common. Merchant caravans in the wastes jacked the price on such things up as much as they could when they passed through, and the dust wasn’t much for making sweet things- food or people.
A little taste couldn’t hurt, could it? You went for one of the fragments of the destroyed slice- and it tasted…confusing. Butter, sugar, and charcoal. Squishy. It was still definitely pofesen. Pretty good for your first time cooking…anything. If you did say so yourself.
Yuliana had been simply waiting for a while. You didn’t know what she was making, but she must have been done with at least part of it, since she came over to you and inspected what you were doing- and made a face like she saw the aftermath of a massacre.
“What in the world did you <span class="mu-i">do?</span>” She asked with a hand over her mouth.
“Cook.” You said flatly, “Ain't that what this is all supposed to be about?”
Yuliana squinted at you, then at the messy workstation, the food on the counter, then gave you a frustratingly pitying look. “I could only assume a devil’s work was being wrought over here, from where I was. Alexander once said to never interrupt your foe when they are making a mistake, but I wonder if even he wouldn’t have considered mercy for you if he laid eyes on this.”
“Yeah? This ain’t for your sort anyways,” you gestured at the plate, “It’s <span class="mu-i">innovation</span>. Don’t you got your own tired shit t’ deal with?”
"Who is he to you?" Yuliana sighed dismissively and turned around. “I truly don’t know how a creature like you came to be here. Were I you, I would forfeit now and cover over a blemish like that, but I suppose even the lowliest dust whore knows better than to trust veils to hide her.”
…Yeah, nah. Hell didn’t teach you to be ashamed of your scars or your birth. Not that either of those mattered to somebody like One-Notch.
>There was no reason to chase her with any insults. Acknowledging her insult would do nothing for you.
>Oh yeah? Feed her some of her own medicine. How many blemishes is she hiding under a mountain of veils?
>She’s acting too smug, and you’ve had enough of her calling you a whore. Give her a whack. You owed her one. (What kind of strike and where on her?)
>Other?
