#florentine biscuits

[kawaii-foodie]

atelier.ladouceur

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

no idea if this is my neurodivergent brain being dumb, but photo-realistic illusion biscuits sound horrible to me? like if it looked like a pizza to me and i bit into it and it was a florentine, id probably spit it right back out because my brain just wouldnt compute it. even if i knew it, my senses would be like betrayal betrayal betrayal

[ladytesla]

The Great Faerun Baking Show (part two)

I've decided I'm going to run with this anyway. It is a beautiful day in Faerun and I am a horrible goose fanfiction writer. There are several things I need to get done today, so obviously I'm going to not do them and write this instead.

For those of you who are just stopping by, I had a horrible idea a while ago and this is the result. I have no idea what's going to happen or who's going to win. I’m just going to roll a D20 ‘bake check’ for everyone and write out the results, including what everyone rolled so y’all know I’m not cheating just so my druid boyfriend can win.  The person with the lowest total score (out of a possible score of 60) goes home.

We've got the main 6 companions, Jaheira, Halsin, Minsc (and Boo), Minthara, Dammon, and my tav Medora (who y'all can just pretend is Alfira if you don't want someone else's tav in the story, since they're both female bards)

Week One, Cake Week: Star baker was Karlach, Minthara went home

Week Two: Biscuit Week, or "Viconia's Walking Florentine"

Signature Challenge: Sandwich Biscuits

Astarion: Bourbon biscuits. He and Shadowheart took a shot right when the bake started. He took a few more shots after that just because he could, and ended up making a bunch of vampire jokes with Noel Fielding. Despite the alcohol handicap, his biscuits turned out quite nice.

Dammon: Dulce de leche and banana biscuits. The dulce de leche overpowered the banana a bit, but the texture of the biscuits themselves were great.

Gale: Tara's coffee biscuits. He really wanted to bring back the memories of caffeine-fueled all-nighters at Blackstaff Academy. He also used a cat-shaped cookie cutter. The biscuits weren't exactly identical, and the coffee cream was a bit too runny.

Halsin: Lavender and vanilla biscuits. He used a duck-shaped cookie cutter because he likes ducks. They were all perfectly identical and the flavors were incredible. He got a Hollywood Handshake for them.

Jaheira: Malted milk biscuits. She wasn't able to get them as identical as she would have liked, and some of the biscuits were a bit underdone.

Karlach: Peanut butter and jelly sandwich biscuits. She was determined to have Paul like something with peanut butter in it. Unfortunately he still doesn't. They were also a bit messy. They were adorable in their messiness though.

Lae'zel: Pistachio custard creams. They were messy, and the dragon cookie cutter she used was a bit too delicate, resulting in some dragons missing their tails.

Medora: Raspberry and almond linzer biscuits. They had a lovely classic flavor profile, and were nearly identical.

Minsc: Coconut biscuits. He tried to use chocolate designs to make them look like tiny coconuts, but it wasn't completely successful. The flavor, however, was nice.

Shadowheart: Blackberry and earl grey biscuits. She tried to shape them like night orchids, colored with activated charcoal. However, the color made it hard to judge whether or not the biscuits were overcooked, and several of them were burned. The earl grey was so faint it was overpowered by the blackberry and the, well, burn.

Wyll: Empire biscuits. He grew up sneaking them from the kitchen as a boy, and wanted to stick to his 'classics done right' style. Unfortunately the biscuits weren't as crisp as Paul and Prue would have liked. Noel still stuck one in his pocket for later though.

Technical Challenge: Coconut Macaroons

(I think I'm going to list them from worst to best from now on)

11. Dammon

10. Shadowheart

9. Medora

8. Karlach

7. Lae'zel or Wyll (they both rolled a 9)

6. Wyll or Lae'zel

5. Halsin

4. Astarion

3. Jaheira

2. Gale

Minsc (honestly how does he keep doing so well idk man)

Showstopper: Gingerbread Showpiece

Astarion: To keep with his Brand, he decided to make a graveyard with several little gingerbread mausoleums and monuments. His, of course, was the biggest and fanciest one, with the door open and a little paper cut-out of himself coming out. Very tongue-in-cheek. Some of the monuments were sloppy, because he had so many he didn't have time to make them all super polished.

Dammon: He did his best to make an anvil, a hammer and a little piece of pulled sugar as the metal to be forged. He then discovered that despite working with molten metal on a regular basis, molten sugar still burns just as much when hitting the skin, and dropped it. He spent so much time on a backup sugar piece that the presentation on his anvil and hammer suffered a tiny bit.

Gale: His scene was an open book with a little wizard casting Fireball standing on the pages. There were huge cracks in the gingerbread book, but the wizard and his fireball were nicely detailed. He wasted a lot of time because he needed the spell piped on to the gingerbread to be ACCURATE DAMMIT.

Halsin: He created a peaceful woodland scene with trees, a family of bears, and some mushrooms. The largest bear broke, but he was able to fix it somewhat and prop it up against a tree. Bears lean against trees all the time. He hoped the judges might think it was purposeful. They saw right through him, however.

Jaheira: Years of helping her children with various projects has paid off. She somehow in the time limit created Wyrm's Crossing and just for show a poured-sugar River Chionthar. That earned her a Hollywood Handshake.

Karlach: She made an impressive replica of her tent, complete with a small army of teddy bear cookies. She even took the time to make little bears shaped like her friends and the judges. When asked if she hadn't wanted to make something more badass, she shrugged and said she could like cracking skulls and teddy bears at the same time.

Lae'zel: Her red dragon looked more like a guinea pig, unfortunately, so she changed her answer last-minute and said it was a giant space hamster. Due to its red color, though, the judges saw right through her story.

Medora: She attempted to create a lute, a mandolin and a drum. The neck of the lute broke and the piping on the drum was far from precise, but it wasn't a complete disaster.

Minsc: He made a treasure chest mimic. Originally he'd wanted the lid to open, but the hinge broke. It was still beautiful regardless, and quite big. It nearly took up the entire counter.

Shadowheart: Her little gingerbread cottage was already precariously lopsided, and when she turned to grab another piping bag it fell completely off the bench and onto the floor.

Wyll: He replicated his favorite park in Baldur's Gate out of gingerbread, even sculpting a statue with modeling chocolate. It was very impressive.

The Results

Our star baker this week with a total of 45/60 is Halsin!

And unfortunately, with a score of 9/60, Shadowheart has to leave the tent.

Feel free to play along, roll bake checks, and comment with what your Tav would make! Yeah I can't be stopped we're on to bread week next.

[pillowfriendly]

I wanna play tooooo

[sailtomarina]

I bet I can do it better

cw: references to sex

He stood behind her where she hovered in front of the cooling rack, hands at the ready with her piping bag. She’d already done the eyes and smiles of two dozen gingerbread men, and was now planning her design of their outfits.

“Why are they all blokes?” he breathed into her ear, hands settling onto her waist and giving a slight squeeze.

“That’s the only shape I had. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat any,” she sniped back, but there wasn’t any real heat behind her words.

That was because Hermione had made these specifically for Draco after he’d dared make the declaration that florentines of all things were the best Christmas biscuit. Hermione pointed out the wonderful simplicity of a simple gingerbread biscuit paired with a decadent beverage like eggnog or hot cocoa. He’d hit back in defense of the florentine by explaining how the fruits and nuts made it so nothing else was needed–it was perfect as is.

He was wrong, obviously. 

Hermione knew that while orange, almond, and pistachio florentines were indeed delightful, there were only so many bites one could take before the flavors were just too much. Her favorite, however, could be enjoyed by the handful until the plate was empty with nary a crumb left behind as evidence.

One dozen of her gingerbread men were the more traditional snappy type, the sort of biscuit every proper British citizen would nod approvingly over as they sipped their tea. The other dozen followed her preferred style of biscuit, one those same good citizens might have found appalling.

They were soft and chewy with only the edges just crispy enough to provide the necessary contrast in textures. They were perfection. 

Draco didn’t stand a chance.

“Why do half of them look like they’re winking?”

“So I can tell at a glance which ones are hard and which ones are soft.”

He nuzzled into her neck, lips trailing along the skin. He was pressed so close to her back that not even a hand could have wiggled its way between them.

“Guess which one I am right now.”

“Draco.” His huff of amusement jostled her arm, sending a crooked line of frosting down one biscuit’s center. “Now look what you made me do!”

He paused to look over her shoulder once more. “Oh, dear.”

“‘Oh, dear,’ he says,” Hermione mocked in her best imitation of his haughty voice.

“I fail to see how your inability to focus is my fault, love.” Keeping one hand on her waist, he slid the other around to her front, down, down.

She dropped the piping bag and bucked against him to try and dislodge the offending appendage, only to realize that was probably what he expected, no, wanted, her to do. The instant she pushed away from the counter, his hand slid into place, cupping her sex, and she felt an unmistakable hardness pressed against her back. Hermione struggled to keep her mind on task. She had biscuits to decorate, a wizard to disprove, and the beginnings of a demanding throb between her legs.

“As if you could in my place.”

“I bet I can do it better.” He flexed his fingers as if to prove his point, and she nearly whined at the torture.

“Go on, then. Show me what you can do.”

Hermione nearly stumbled as he let go and stepped to the side. Before she could say another word, he’d picked up her piping bag and hovered over his side of the cooling rack.

“Any particular requests?”

She’d meant for him to tear open her pants and slide those long fingers of his inside of her; he’d certainly done it often enough in nearly every room of their home. Hermione hadn’t literally expected him to show her up in biscuit decoration. 

“No. Just make them look smart.”

“So, Slytherins, not Gryffindors? Ouch.” He rubbed his side after her swift jab, his lip jutting out in a pretend display of injury.

“Their clothes, Draco.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” he replied in a sing-song, and she nearly murdered him right where he stood.

Instead, she waited until he started piping, the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration the way it always did when he brewed potions. Watching his progress, she had to admit that his attention to detail translated well here, with each gingerbread man turning into more stylish versions of themselves. He muttered under his breath as he worked, transforming the color of the icing to accentuate details like little chains leading into the waist pockets of each gingerbread man.

“That’s a lot of green,” Hermione mused, trying to keep her tone inconspicuous.

He grunted in reply, too focused to even come up with a verbal response.

Draco only had himself to blame, really.

Hermione silently stepped behind him and hooked her thumbs into his belt. He froze for a brief moment, then continued what he’d been doing without comment. She palmed his arse, still tight from playing pick-up games of Quidditch, then moved up against him so her breasts flattened against his back.

“Granger…” he warned, his arms still moving from one biscuit to the other.

“Hm?”

“That isn’t going to work.”

“Shhhh, just concentrate on what you’re doing.” She held back a giggle at the look she imagined on his face. Chances were it was twisted in indecision on whether to finish what he’d started, or finish what he’d started.

This time it was Hermione who boldly slid her hand down around his front with unwavering accuracy. He groaned as she stopped over the heated length of him and stroked suggestively from tip to root.

“You’re going to get yours here in a minute,” he said, dark promises heavy in each word.

And she did, but not until after he’d dotted the last waistcoat button, swallowed a mouthful of biscuit, then proclaimed her a baking genius, for which she rewarded him by licking every speck of leftover icing off of his quivering body.

WC 1002

Twitter prompt from @DramionePrompts

Cross posted on Tumblr and [eventually] AO3

I may or may not be writing a one-shot featuring gingerbread cookies, which is why this particular treat was on my mind while I wrote this prompted work. I, too, prefer my cookies soft and chewy, not snappy or brittle.

[skyburger]

okay you people dont get it at all. fries and chips are NOT the same. cookies and biscuits are NOT the same. (however american "biscuits" ARE just fucking scones. those are the same. theyre savory scones.)

fries vs. chips is easy to explain. fries are thinner chips are thicker & medium-width ones can go either way. some dishes you have to call them chips with (e.g. fish & chips) but some it doesnt matter which you call them (e.g. burger w/ fries & beef burger w/ chips)

^ examples of chips (left) and fries (right)

However biscuits and cookies requires nuance. you could never understand. im the one and only biscuit-cookie EXPERT. ive listed examples of each (under the cut, to spare ur guyses dashes)... hope you understand. hope my psychic mind beam waves are reaching you

COOKIES:

oreos

chocolate chip cookies

sugar cookies

snickerdoodles

black and white cookies

christmas cookies

macaroon

gingerbread men

oatmeal raisin cookies

rainbow cookie

fortune cookie

BISCUITS:

animal crackers

bourbon creams

millionaires shortbread

pocky

cadbury fingers

jaffa cakes

digestives

chocolate teacakes

custard creams

florentines

ginger snaps

jammie dodgers

ladyfingers

lebkuchen

macarons

party rings

shortbread (any kind)

spritzebäck

stroopwafel

wafers (any kind)

for the record though some of these (e.g. macarons or ladyfingers) i wouldnt really call a biscuit in conversation? like i would classify them as biscuits. But when i want biscuits i dont want those. do u get it. its like how rainbow cookies are cookies but when i want a cookie i usually dont want that)

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

Character Profiles: Main and some extras

Index: Cloudia, Cedric, Milton, Kamden, Newman, Lisa, Cecelia, Barrington, Oscar, Trudy, Simon, Penelope

(All character ages are as of the latest chapter, or when they died. All information as of the latest chapter too.)

Navigation: Main and extras | Cloudia's grandparents and maternal extended family | Cloudia's paternal extended family (and Florentin) | Other servants and employees | Antagonists | Scotland Yard and misc.

(The original illustrated character sheets)

Name: Cloudia Phantomhive

Nickname(s): Dia, Clou, Cloudie, Lulu, Claudette, Aunt Lou

Birthday: April 5, 1830

Age: 18

Physical description: black/dark blue hair, dark blue eyes (with some faint specks of green)

Affiliation: Phantomhive family; Aristocrats of Evil; Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies (former)

Occupation: Countess of Phantomhive; Watchdog to Queen Victoria

Base of Operations: Phantomhive Manor; Phantomhive townhouse

Favourite Colour: blue

Favourite Flower: lily (particularly white ones)

Favourite Dessert: small cakes, biscuits

What is in her bag? a book (usually Dickens), dagger + sheath, skeleton key, perfume bottle, notebook, pencil, hairpins, pistol, necklace

Random fact(s):

Much to her chagrin, she can neither sing nor draw; she has, however, mastered playing a musical instrument and has exceptionally lovely handwriting.

Cloudia, as her son will be, doesn’t have the best naming sense. (She named Cedric and Newman.) Still, she will be the one who names her children (with some input though).

That’s why, while she possesses acting prowess, she cannot come up with any good fake names. (Like “Lady Varanda” in the “Mistletoes and Misfits” bonus, but that was also a reference to Winx Club.)

Background info: I considered giving her a middle name (after her grandmother Genevieve), but decided against it, as she does not seem to have one in canon. (Otherwise, I guess, she might have been listed with an initial like Cedric.)

First appearance: The Countess, Encounter (Chapter 1)

----

Name: Cedric K. Rossdale

Nickname(s): Ced, Ceddie, Undertaker, Kris, Not-Kristopher, Uncle Rapunzel

Birthday: March 25, 1???

Age: ??

Physical description: unwashed grey hair, phosphorescent chartreuse eyes, glasses

Affiliation: Grim Reaper Dispatch; Cloudia Phantomhive

Occupation: Grim Reaper; Duke of Underwood (disguise only)

Base of Operations: Grim Reaper Dispatch; Underwood Manor

Favourite Colour: cyan

Favourite Flower: bluebell, Sterling Silver Ros

Favourite Dessert: all of them! (even fruitcake)

What is in his bag? sack of sweets (biscuits!), biscuit cutters, destroyed earphones that shouldn’t be here, sometimes a banana (with disastrous results!), loose change, emergency 2nd bag of sweets, mourning hair lockets chain

Random fact(s):

He is rather clever with his hands and learned pottery and basketry; his favourite childhood game was cat’s cradle.

Now that he is the owner of a huge manor by the seaside, he’s been considering redecorating it.

He does not like fairy tales much because they remind him of someone. He cannot stop thinking about them for the same reason.

Background info: I picked “Kristopher” at random (it was the first name that came to my mind) and “Underwood” without much extra thought except that it’s sort of “similar” to “Undertaker.” I later thought that Cloudia might have rather given him “Sowerberry” as a surname because that’s the name of the undertaker in Oliver Twist. Now, I’m happy with my choices because they worked out decently in the end for various reasons.

First appearance: The Reaper, Encounter (Chapter 2)

----

Name: Milton Salisbury

Nickname(s): Mil, Milt, Millie, Sonshine, Sonny, Mor

Birthday: June 27, 1823

Age: 24

Physical description: gold-blond hair, hazel eyes (they are a bit more green than brown)

Affiliation: Salisbury family

Occupation: Baron of Salisbury; Director of Salisbury Trading

Base of Operations: Salisbury Villa (former); lives here and there due to his frequent travels but has an apartment somewhere in London too; he owns Salisbury Manor too but does not and has never stayed there

Favourite Colour: loves them all

Favourite Flower: chrysanthemum

Favourite Dessert: apple cake

What is in his bag? tinderbox, shawl, armband, gloves, flask with water, key, pencil, notebook, letter opener

Random fact(s):

Perpetually bored and severely insomniac, he learned various skills to pass his time, but he is too humble to say that he has mastered most of them.

He has a hyphenated surname as his mother was a rich heiress. He does not use it but wishes he could or could, at least, only use his mother’s surname.

He sleeps only four hours a day in two-hour stretches. (He cannot sleep longer because of his nightmares.) Wentworth also has to persuade him to sleep at all.

Background info: I regret a bit giving him “Salisbury” as a surname because “Earl of Salisbury” and “Marquess of Salisbury” are actual titles.

First appearance: The Countess, Scary (Chapter 5)

----

Name: Kamden Sainteclare (born Kamden Emyr Llywelyn-Bonham)

Nickname(s): Kam, Kammie, Bookstore Boy; he also goes by Emyr Bonham on occasion

Birthday: April 5, 1830

Age: 18

Physical description: messy black hair, dark blue eyes (although he looks just like a male version of Cloudia, his eyes lack the specks of green)

Affiliation: Cloudia Phantomhive; Weston College (former)

Occupation: Bookseller

Base of Operations: Sainteclare Bookstore

Favourite Colour: yellow

Favourite Flower: passionflower, begonia

Favourite Dessert: Charlotte russe

What is in his bag? book (usually a handbook), handkerchief, pocket knife, all the scary medical tools (why though), a sack of bonbons, first-aid kit (how does it even fit???)

Random fact(s):

Cloudia’s opposite in almost every way, he can sing and draw, though he seldom draws and only ever hums to himself while working; on the other hand, his handwriting is awful.

He had many crushes throughout his life but has never acted on them and never kissed anyone either yet. He’s set to have a terrible first kiss with someone he likes.

Kamden was in Weston College’s Blue House. Barrington was a bit disappointed that he could not get into Green House. He was also someone’s fag at Weston.

Background info:

He is based on the “astrological twins” concept mentioned in Erich Kästner’s Lisa and Lottie (Das doppelte Lottchen).

His surname was picked as a “opposite” to “Phantomhive,” and taken from Melancholia St. Clair from Skulduggery Pleasant. (The same applies to his birth surname “Bonham,” though I got that one from Behind the Name.)

His adopted parents’ names (Phyllis and Frederick) are taken from a Skulduggery Pleasant fanfic I wrote a long time ago (they were the fake names I gave to two canon characters). His biological parents’ names (Linette and Edmund) come from The Infernal Devices. Linette Herondale in that series is Welsh, as was Kamden’s mother.

Kamden’s birth surname was “Glendower-Bunker” (“Glyndwr-Bunker”) for a while before I changed it. I thought giving someone the surname “Glendower” was just too much, but “Llywelyn” is also a regal name.

First appearance: The Lady, Bonding (Chapter 12); The Countess, Restless (Chapter 15; present)

----

Name: Alfred Newman

Nickname(s): Al, Alfie

Birthday: 1818

Age: 30

Physical description: dark blond hair, light blue eyes, very tall and broad-shouldered

Affiliation: Phantomhive family; Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies (former)

Occupation: Butler

Base of Operations: Phantomhive Manor; Phantomhive townhouse

Favourite Colour: green

Favourite Flower: camellia

Favourite Dessert: blancmange (especially with berries!)

What is in his bag? bag with bird food, hair ribbon, dagger + sheath, pocket watch, muff pistol, light read for breaks (Gamiani; his fondness for such literature stems from sentimentality)

Random fact(s):

Aficionado of romance novels; used to live in an abandoned part of a mysterious all-girls school after fleeing from a workhouse.

He does not know how he ended up at the workhouse or what his real name and background are.

Because he lived in hiding for years, he learned to move around very quietly despite his large physique.

Background info: He was originally called Albert; his name was changed to avoid an overlap with Prince Albert’s. He was instead named after Alfred Pennyworth (though he still overlaps name-wise with a member of the BRF: one of Victoria and Albert’s children, Prince Alfred).

First appearance: The Countess, Fearsome (Chapter 4; in italics text); The Countess, Frightening (Chapter 6)

----

Name: Lisa Greene

Nickname(s): Li (only one person is allowed to call her that though)

Birthday: January 13, 1829

Age: 19

Physical description: light brown hair, dark green eyes

Affiliation: Phantomhive family

Occupation: Maid

Base of Operations: Phantomhive Manor; Phantomhive townhouse

Favourite Colour: grey

Favourite Flower: anemone

Favourite Dessert: bread and butter pudding

What is in her bag? sack of herbs (sewn by Newman!), toy soldier, poison-laced hairpins (of course, usually wrapped in a cloth!), roll-up sewing kit, deck of playing cards

Random fact(s):

Besides squeezing Thomas’ money out of his pockets at their weekly game nights, she loves to sew by a window on a lazy rainy day.

Lisa generally dislikes and mistrusts all boys and men. She only likes/tolerates three: Newman, Kamden, and someone else but that one is dead.

She likes borrowing Newman’s romance books. It horrifies him a bit, but he still lends them to her.

Background info:

Lisa was set to be a talented pianist, but I forgot about that aspect early on. Maybe this will find its way back into the story one day?

I wished I had made her a bit older. (But not too old, as I wanted her to be close-ish in age to Cloudia.)

First appearance: The Countess, Celebrating (Chapter 7)

----

Name: Cecelia Williams

Nickname(s): prefers to be called by her full first name

Birthday: August 24, 1817

Age: 30

Physical description: wavy honey-blonde hair, dark brown eyes; she has a rather “angelic” appearance; since her husband Michael’s death, she only wears black clothes

Affiliation: Williams family; Aristocrats of Evil

Occupation: Dowager Marchioness of Williams; Aristocrat of Evil

Base of Operations: Williams guest house (by the Williams townhouse)

Favourite Colour: violet

Favourite Flower: heliotrope, centaury

Favourite Dessert: soda bread pudding

What is in her bag? fan, handkerchief, a few letters and notes, sleeping draught, purse, smelling salt, little booklet with a pressed flower

Random fact(s):

Generally, she dislikes every form of physical exertion, but, when she was younger, she enjoyed walking through fields for hours whenever her father wanted something from her.

Her mother died not long after giving birth to her. Her father began considering remarrying a few years later; however, Cecelia shooed everyone away, and he eventually gave up.

Michael liked spending a lot of time outdoors, and for the few years they were married, Cecelia did as well. Michael’s clumsiness and unluckiness often resulted in some minor disasters which sometimes rendered him injured and forced them back indoors anyway.

Background info:

I wished I had given her and Michael either a better surname or a proper title. “Marquess/Marchioness of Williams” just seems oddly casual.

I considered making her a fat character but scrapped the idea because it did not work with her backstory. (I also wanted to avoid the “of course, the character that doesn’t like exercising/moving is fat”-thing.)

First appearance: The Countess, Captured (Chapter 16)

----

Name: Barrington Weaselton

Nickname(s): Barry

Birthday: March 31, 1804

Age: 44

Physical description: greying brown hair, light green eyes; has a moustache

Affiliation: Weaselton family; Aristocrats of Evil; Order of the Garter (former); Weston College (former)

Occupation: Aristocrat of Evil; Head of the British Knights (former); Prefect of Green Lion (former)

Base of Operations: Weaselton Manor (his mother is still alive and lives there; Barrington owns the place, but seldom stays over; he has another manor house elsewhere)

Favourite Colour: blue

Favourite Flower: edelweiss

Favourite Dessert: tarts (particularly lemon)

What is in his bag? sword, ring on a string, metal box with candy, kaleidoscope, paintbrush, comb

Random fact(s):

His middle name is quite embarrassingly “Arnfried” as his mother is German (he does not speak German though).

Simon’s mother Genevieve set up a “playdate” between Simon and Barrington after Simon beat Barrington in a fencing tournament. While Barrington’s mother Wilhelmine agreed to the get-together, she later regretted her decision because she thought Simon was too much trouble. (And he and Barrington did get into a lot of trouble, even before Simon became Watchdog.)

Barrington and Samantha were an oddly matched couple as they are complete opposites. (They did, however, have a very happy marriage.)

Background info:

He was named after two villainous characters (Barrington Whelk from The Raven Boys and the Duke of Weselton) simply because I liked the names.

Barrington is a secretive character, and one I haven’t fully cracked yet.

First appearance: The Lady, First Training (Chapter 10); The Countess, Captured (Chapter 16; present)

----

Name: Oscar Livingstone

Nickname(s): don’t even think about it (though that did not stop Trudy’s best friend)

Birthday: December 24, 1798

Age: 49

Physical description: greying black/grey hair, pale blue eyes; has a beard

Affiliation: Livingstone family; Aristocrats of Evil; Scotland Yard (former)

Occupation: Lord/Laird; Captain; Inspector/Detective (former)

Base of Operations: Livingstone Manor (former); his officially sanctioned house

Favourite Colour: gold, blue

Favourite Flower: rose

Favourite Dessert: cranachan, honey cake

What is in his bag? pistol, dagger, knife, piece of wood, flask of water, a book (usually Paradise Lost)

Random fact(s):

He does not mind if someone keeps him company when he is reading; he only wishes for silence.

It is a Livingstone family tradition that the first son is given his father’s name as his middle name. His grandparents wanted Oscar to have his legal father’s name as his middle name (Ranald) because of that, but his mother protested. Oscar ended up without a middle name as a result.

Oscar used to have auburn hair as a child, but it darkened to black as he grew older.

Background info:

Very early on, Oscar was set to be 70 years old, a former police commissioner, and missing a few fingers.

I considered Charles Rowan’s military career while settling on Oscar’s.

Oscar was named after Oscar from Sesame Street (whose German name translates to “Oscar from the Trash Can.”)

First appearance: The Countess, Captured (Chapter 16)

----

Name: Trudy Ashdown

Nickname(s): /; she was known socially as “Trudy Livingstone” though she never legally took Oscar’s surname

Birthday: /

Age: /

Physical description: she had the appearance of a true “English rose”

Affiliation: Livingstone family; Ashdown family

Occupation: Lady

Base of Operations: Livingstone Manor

Favourite Colour: red, orange

Favourite Flower: rose

Favourite Dessert: apple cake, strawberry cake

What is in her bag? /

Random fact(s):

While Oscar is inwardly very restless and outwardly quiet, Trudy was inwardly very calm and outwardly lively.

She liked disguising herself and introducing herself by false names. (In part to conceal her relationship with Oscar.) For that reason, Barrington does not realise he met Trudy; he knew her by another name and was unaware that she was Oscar’s wife.

Trudy and her best friend instantly became friends upon their first encounter. Many thought they would get married, but they never had any romantic interest in each other.

Background info: /

First appearance: Mentioned only (first: The Countess, Clockmaker – Part 4; Chapter 24)

----

Name: Simon Phantomhive

Nickname(s): Si, Sissi

Birthday: August 15, 1804

Age: 29 (at time of death; April 10, 1834)

Physical description: messy/unruly black/dark blue hair, emerald green eyes

Affiliation: Phantomhive family; Aristocrats of Evil; Weston College (former)

Occupation: Earl of Phantomhive; Watchdog to King George IV and King William IV (1823-1834)

Base of Operations: Phantomhive Manor; Phantomhive townhouse

Favourite Colour: storm grey, sea green

Favourite Flower: forget-me-not

Favourite Dessert: had no sweet tooth

What is in his bag? notebook, pen, paintbrush, more pens, pencils, random papers, old bread, a diary that wasn’t his, cat treats, his dagger

Random fact(s):

Simon was close to his uncle, the Marquis. The Marquis was never fond of Simon’s father Percival, so Simon was his favourite Phantomhive.

He was the fag of Sapphire Owl’s prefect, but never succeeded him as dormitory leader. (He made sure that his upperclassman would drop him as his fag when he became prefect to prevent becoming prefect himself. Barrington wondered why Simon didn’t just decline to be the dorm leader when it was time.)

He had the tendency not to carry around any umbrellas, even if it was very clear it would rain, or when it was raining. (And they do live in England too.) It frustrated both his mother and Barrington. (Penelope was taken aback by that bad habit, but Simon did always carry an umbrella with him when she was around.)

Background info:

He was named after Simon Harley-Dickinson from The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place (he is the love interest of the protagonist Penelope Lumley after whom Penelope was named).

Simon is an artist because of Simon from The Wolves of Willoughby Chase. (Simon Harley-Dickinson is also an artsy character, but he’s a playwright, not a painter.)

I wished I had written him better in “Festivity and Fear”; I hope I can rectify this one day.

First appearance: Three Times Christmas (Part 1): Festivity and Fear

----

Name: Penelope Phantomhive (née Houghton)

Nickname(s): Penny, Lopey

Birthday: October 10, 1810

Age: 37

Physical description: long blonde hair, dark blue eyes; she looks just like a blonde version of her daughter and has a cowlick like her future granddaughter

Affiliation: Phantomhive family; Houghton family; Theatre Royal, Covent Garden (former)

Occupation: Dowager Countess of Phantomhive; Actress/opera singer (former)

Base of Operations: Phantomhive Manor (she has not left it since Cloudia became the Watchdog)

Favourite Colour: silver, blue

Favourite Flower: yellow carnation

Favourite Dessert: biscuits

What is in her bag? She doesn’t leave the house; why does she need a bag?

Random fact(s):

She was very close to her father before he passed away when she was a child. On the other hand, she has a very strained relationship with her mother, and by extension with her sisters too.

Penelope was friends with Trudy. (Unlike Barrington, Penelope knew about Trudy.) They hoped their children would become friends too.

Animals like her, and she likes animals. She currently does not keep any pets though and also did not have any growing up.

Background info:

She was named after Penelope Lumley, the protagonist from The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place.

Her parents’ names (Hortense and Edward) were taken from that series too; they are the names of her namesake’s employer’s parents. Unlike Hortense Houghton, Hortense Ashton is a nice person though, and Edward Ashton decidedly is not, whereas Edward Houghton was.

First appearance: The Lady, Invited (Chapter 11); has not appeared in the present yet

[askwhatsforlunch]

Springtime Treats

Whether the sun is shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky, or the rain is falling ceaselessly on the young green grass, watering the Kitchen garden and making the fruit trees snow their delicate blossoms --both can very well happen within the same day, even the same hour, these Springtime Treats, from crunchy biscuits to creamy choux, are a seasonal delight! Happy Sunday!

Lavender and Vanilla Biscuits

Raspberry and Chocolate Eclairs 

Congolais (Coconut Macaroons)

Hazelnut and Lemon Biscuits

Apricot, Nut and Seed Florentines

Passionfruit Chocolates

Lemon Meringue Kisses

Afghans 

Chocolate and Caramel Viennese Whirls 

Almond and Date ANZAC Biscuits

Scottish Shortbread

Retro Choux Sawns

Belgium Biscuits

Anzac Biscuits

Almond and Apricot Biscotti

[v-thinks-on]

Holmes and I returned to the bakery which had brought us to this little town in the first place. Mrs. Watson was already waiting for us when we arrived, and she had been joined by Miss Jane Marple, one of Holmes’s young relations, who must have been near thirty at the time, if Holmes and I were nearing fifty.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson,” Miss Marple said, “I suppose you’ve travelled from London for a change of pace, though I’ve found the pace of the countryside is not really so different from anywhere else.”

“So, you’ve made a study of it?” Holmes asked, rubbing his hands together in enthusiasm.

Mrs. Watson and I had exchanged terse greetings and now she remained behind Miss Marple, as I stayed a step behind Holmes.

“You could say that,” Miss Marple answered Holmes. “St. Mary Mead seems to me as though it might be a microcosm of the whole world. There is no human drama I have witnessed anywhere else that I have not happened upon in the village.”

“You must be very busy,” I remarked.

“No, I would not say more so than any other spinster.”

To my surprise, Mrs. Watson gave a little fond chuckle. “Yet you somehow talk to everyone and know all their gossip.”

Miss Marple shook her head. “There is no such thing as secrets in a village like St. Mary Mead.”

With some direction from Holmes, we all meandered into the bakery so that Holmes could replace Mrs. Watson’s waylaid pies.

“And some ginger snaps, if you please,” Holmes said to the baker with a wry glance at me.

“Holmes, you needn’t,” I insisted with a laugh.

“They are not for you, my dear fellow, but for Miss Marple.” Holmes said, taking the parcel from the baker and holding it out to her. “It is a unique flavour, pungent, yet sweet.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes,” Miss Marple said, accepting a biscuit from the parcel and taking a small bite. “While we all lived together, some of my cousins became very adventurous chefs, which didn’t always turn out so well, but there was one particularly successful batch of ginger snaps—after the first attempt nearly burned down the house. And, of course, all of my neighbours now in St. Mary Mead each has their own recipe, but these are excellent.”

Holmes then held out the parcel to Mrs. Watson who turned him away, as I knew she would. “Ginger is all very well in curries, but it doesn’t belong in a biscuit,” she said with some vehemence. “A biscuit should be sweet, not sharp.”

Holmes at last handed off the parcel of ginger snaps to me as he returned to the baker. “Some florentines, for the lady, if you please.”

Holmes gave the final parcel to Mrs. Watson, and then we all left the sweet, warm shop, to return to the cold winter air, with our pastries in hand to ease the way. I nibbled on my own sweet, sharp ginger biscuit, and Holmes snuck up behind me to take one for himself, and I offered the rest to Miss Marple.

“This is very generous of you, Mr. Holmes,” Mrs. Watson said, eating a biscuit of her own, as we went down the country lane, back toward the inn.

“It is I who owe you my gratitude for your generosity,” Holmes replied, and I felt the same.

[girltomboy]

My whole errand plan on Friday was a flop but I was able to find workarounds. Hairdresser couldn't trim my hair but she did make me an appointment for Saturday at 12:30. The gyros acquisition was successful, and I even walked there & back. But the grocery shopping was a bit of a disaster. I couldn't find anything I wanted, except for the pasta which is like the most boring object on that list. I don't give a fuck about pasta!!!! Ofc it had pasta it's a grocery store 🙄 I couldn't find the root beer anymore. Admittedly it's been a while since I saw it, and tbf I'm struggling to remember why the FUCK I didn't buy it then? I ended up buying two beers, a regular one and a non-alcoholic lemon flavored one. The potato chips... I found the very last bag. Probably in existence. Not salt flavored, not sour cream & onion flavored... chili pepper flavored. And they're from Kosovo. They were not terrible, I don't remember if the salted ones I tried way back were riffled, but these ones were, and I'm not big on riffled chips. At first I thought they tasted a bit like goulash, but realistically they tasted more like if I knocked over a bag of paprika on thin pieces of cardboard and then ate them. I didn't even find grana padano, I had to buy some other type of shredded cheese, and this one gets stringy and melty over pasta which I'm not a fan of, probably because it's not lactose-free. And there were no Florentine pies. I bought these biscuits called ischler, I thought they would have jam inside, but they had. Rum?? I think. Instead. And I like rum normally, but these are SO ASS!!!! They're just dry and sweet. The box even broke when I tried to take it out of the shopping basket, and the guy at the counter was nice enough to suggest putting them in a plastic bag from the produce section, but I should have turned around and put the broken box right back on the shelf. I would have paid for it and everything, just to avoid eating them. You know how people often wish we could experience something all over again for the first time? This time I want to de-experience eating ischler. I want to un-experience it. The rest of the evening was quite uneventful, I ate my gyros, drank the regular beer, and watched Twin Peaks.

And yesterday I woke up super early ready for my day. I went to my hair appointment at 12:30, the hairdresser approved of my plan to allow my natural hair color to take over my hair. Only when she held it up to trim the ends did I notice how egregious the contrast between my natural brunette half and the washed up orange shade looks. Ofc it's not the shade I dyed it, but sunlight exposure, washing, hair products, blow drying, salt water, etc. did their number. I was able to analyze the hairdresser's work in a public bathroom and it kinda sucks actually. It looks like she hacked at it with an axe. No word of a lie I could have done a better job for free at home. Sure I haven't washed it yet so it still has a chance to be good, but I don't like what I saw. I need to complete it with a razor or something.

I then went to the city center and had a quick run in a store trying to get something to eat. I bought this pie that was quite similar to the Florentine pie I had been looking for, except this one was a puff pastry 👎 and it had raspberry jam, so it was different. But it still had vanilla cream. It wasn't terrible and it hit the spot, I got a bottle of keffir to accompany it and had my snack on a bench with some pigeons and sparrows. A pigeon even flew up on the bench, next to me, waiting for crumbs. And then a little sparrow cleaned up by eating the leftover crumbs that pigeons couldn't reach.

Afterwards I attended a pro-Palestine protest that had many important highlights. Number one being this Arab little girl who started a chant all on her own from her father's shoulders! I was half in tears, and then she draped a Palestinian flag around her shoulders. People honked at us from their cars and gave us thumbs ups. And a priest walking by gave us a peace sign. I think passers by joined the march, because I saw some photos and the line looked much longer than the crowd that was formed prior to the start of the march. A woman who had stopped to take a rock out of her shoe in the square ended up listening to the organizers' speech and asked for a sign to join the march. A physical sign to hold, not a sign from the universe lol. It was a heartwarming event despite the massacres that triggered it, unfortunate that it was necessary but nevertheless an optimistic reminder that people care and they get together to show it loudly. I didn't even register that my throat was sore from shouting and chanting until I got home late and realized it hurt to swallow. I'm all better today btw.

[vent-and-advice]

Comfort dishes!

Buttermilk pie. Yum!

Buttermilk biscuits! So delicious for breakfast!

Chicken Florentine. So goooood!

Chicken and dumplings! Great for a rainy day!

Honey cake? I’ll let you borrow some of my honey!

Can’t go wrong with some homemade mac and cheese!

Sloppy Joe. Fun meal!

[lauragirl53]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: VINTAGE-GUILDCRAFT -EMBOSSED GOLD & CREAM TIN -MONOGRAM "S"-FLORENTINE.

[cheffathimashifnaz]

Firm Buttercream on cupcake rose flowers ​⁠ #buttercreamflowers #buttercreamfloweroncakes cupcakes

https://youtu.be/gCtoNA1zvAg

#buttercream #buttercreamflowers #flowercupcakes firm #buttercreamoncake, #buttercreamflowers on #cake #Buttercreamrecipe for #pipingflowers

#Buttercreamforcupcakes

Firm #buttercreamfrosting for #cake

#Howtobakecake, #howtobake #cookies, #howtobakecupcakes, how to bake chocolate cakes, Brownings The Bakers TV Commercial edit, How to bake brownies,

How to decorate #Halloween cookies, How to bake Halloween cakes, how to bake Halloween #brownies, ice #cookiesdecorations, #easycakerecipes, #easy cookies recipes

#Croissant #Eclair #Macaron #Danish #Baklava #Cannoli #PuffPastry #churro #Scone

Strudel

Palmier

Beignet

. Cinnamon Roll

. Profiterole

. Mille-Feuille

. Palm Leaf

. Brioche

. Turnover

. Rugelach

. Éclair

. Kouign-Amann

. Pithivier

. Panettone

. Galette

. Financier

. Choux Pastry

. Pretzel

. Danish Kringle

. Krapfen

. Spanakopita

. Pain au Chocolat

. Stroopwafel

. Kolache

. Bear Claw

. Pastel de Nata

. Chorley Cake

. Gâteau Basque

. Pączki

. Cornish Pasty

. Striezel

. Cronut

. Shortcrust Pastry

. Flaky Pastry

. Filo Pastry

. Vol-au-vent

. Caramel Slice

. Muffin

. Pop-Tart

Bakewell Tart

. Cannelé

. Gougère

. Jalousie

. Empanada

. Chausson aux Pommes

. Pâte à Choux

. Roulade

. Lemon Bar

. Madeleine

. Butter Tart

. Linzer Torte

. Napolitana

. Spanische Windtorte

. Banoffee Pie

. Berliner

Stollen

. Faworki

. Samsa

. Koeksister

. Mochi

. Chocolate Chip Cookie

. Lamington

. Paratha

. Margherita

. Shortcake

. Zwieback

. Kreppel

. Meringue

. Gâteau Saint-Honoré

. Pretzel Croissant

. Kanafeh

. Dobos Torte

. Pasteis de Tentúgal

. Rugalach

. Milk Tart

. Struffoli

Cheesecake

. Fig Roll

. Kouignette

. Elephant Ear

. Chocotorta

. Knish

. Calisson

. Basler Läckerli

. Pitha

. Pasty

Blueberry Pie

. Shoofly Pie

. Shrewsbury Biscuit

. Welsh Cake

. Börek

. Tarta de Santiago

. Natas do Céu

. Florentine Biscuit

. Fig Newton

. Fat Rascal

. Sachertorte

. Pinwheel Pastry

. Chelsea Bun

. Cremeschnitte

. Raspberry Tart

. Kue Lapis

St. Martin's Croissant

Krapfen

Pasteis de Chaves

Timbits

Teurgoule

Brioscia col Tappo

Galette des Rois

Chikki

Mohnschnecke

Tiramisu

Mooncake

Turban Biscuit

Dobosh

Pionono

Sachima

Raspberry Bar

Russian Tea Cake

Chausson à la Pomme

Tarte Tatin

Figgy Pudding

Rice Cake

Palkova

Sachlav

Fenek

Tartelette

Dobrada

Cannolo Siciliano

Eccles Cake

Trdelník

Käsekuchen

Mantecadas

Galaktoboureko

Shoemaker's Cake

Cinnamon Twist

Pie Floater

Pogača

Pampushka

Dobosh Torte

Praline

Soufflé

#Kringle

Cheese Blintz

. Pan de Muerto

. Bánh Bò

. Faworki

. Nut Roll

. Pecan Pie

. Victoria Sponge

. Pita Bread

. Raspberry Muffin

. Buche de Noel

. Profiterole Tower

. Schnecken

. Caramel Brownie

. Esterházy Torte

. Palm Leaf

. Puff Puff

#Hamantash

#Pastie

. Cream Horn #WalnutStrudel #Pionirka #AnzacBiscuit #StarchCake #ChocolateÉclair

[umbralsound-xiv]

Adelle and i had made time to speak; such is usually a pleasant affair, and an increasingly rare one considering our respective duties. She would make the tea... And i would bring whatever sweets and pastries suited me.

Arriving at her home is a rare luxury afforded to few.

She doesn’t tell everyone where she lives, after all.

A small knock is given on the exterior of Adelle's home, soft yet loud enough to be known. Bexy's hair is slowly brushed over her shoulder, awaiting a response from within.

Adellenne Hocoleux: "Just on time," Adelle smiled warmly, and ushered her friend into the house. "I am so glad we finally have a few spare bells. How are you feeling since the last contract? Any residual pains or aches?" Dozer lay curled on his small bed beside Adelle's desk, keeping true to his namesake. "I have the first fresh rolanberry tea of the season all ready for you."

Bexy Amalaryssia allows the door to close behind her. In her arm, a small wicker basket; such was the silent accord they had often made. Adelle would prepare tea, and Bexy would bring pastries from wheresoever she fancied. "If it is not my work that keeps me busy, it is your own. Only a dull ache remains, nothing away from the normal sensations of healing. What of yourself?" Bexy steps in, furnishing the Duskwight with a warm smile. "...You are too kind to me."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "My leg took the worst of it, but I am thankfully well versed in caring for such things now. Please, make yourself comfortable," she turned to move to the kitchen for their cups, saucers and utensils. "What sorts of sweets do we have this sun?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Glad to hear you are recovering well, Adelle." Bexy moves to settle the basket on the table ahead. "Sweets from all over. Rolanberry choux pastries from the Bismark. Florentines from the Canopy in Gridania. Zhav also made honey biscuits, and bid that i take some with me, yestersun."

Adellenne Hocoleux beamed as she returned to the table. "Those sound divine, my breakfast was a poor excuse for one," she laughed as she took her seat. "Is Zhav doing well, then? I think you must see more of her than I do."

Bexy Amalaryssia takes a seat, shuffling in and beginning to remove the contents of the basket. "She is well. As well as Zhav always is; the repairs on various damaged battlegear busy her hands and allow her to teach her apprentice, so i suppose it works out for all involved. I spent a few bells with her, yestersun. She tells me i can visit the Clan anytime i like..."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "Anytime you like?" Surprise colored her expression. She went through the usual process of pouring and sweetening their tea, then leaned back with her cup. "You are worlds beyond where you once stood with them, are you not? A place of honor at least, if not more." Adelle blew gently on her tea and sipped. "Does Laurent go with you?"

To think they used to detest me. Fear me. Suppose some still do, but it is... A healthy fear, if there ever was such a thing.

I am still spoken of in whispers of the woman i once was. In awe and fear both.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...Anytime i like, apparently. Though i don't know if it was just for decorum, or whether it's a genuine offer. Likely genuine, if it's Zhav. She doubts Mhira would mind." Bexy leans to retrieve her cup, and as she retreats back into her chair, brushes the back of her finger to Adelle's teacup, cooling it enough to dispel the worst of the steam. "I have gone from an ominous presence, a tale told to young children to keep them on their best behaviour... To something of an enigma with them, so i am told. A little like yourself, hm?" She offers a smile, sipping her tea with a short flick of her ears. "...No, he does not. In truth, i don't think Laurent has met many of the Karahli. I think i'd like to keep it that way."

Adellenne Hocoleux laughs. "I cannot begin to imagine what they would think if they saw some of the things their 'Green Man' does. It is better that I visit merely for the changing seasons. Would he not get along well with them? He is such an easy-going man that I cannot think a visit would end poorly. He could teach them Ishgardian dances!"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Oh, he would! Almost a little too well, perhaps. I have no fear of that. But they know enough of my personal life, and though i consider many of them friends and allies, part of me wishes to keep my private life... Private. At least, to an extent." She fishes out one of the honey biscuits, biting into it carefully. Honey oozed from the soft crumbed treat, having to be hastily held together with both hands.

Adellenne Hocoleux nods as she keeps mostly to her tea. Her bare hands cradle the warm cup, and she briefly glances back to make certain Dozer has no sudden desire to beg for any treats. Assured that he's still fast asleep, she reaches out for one of the florentines. "It is a good thing that you have your own circles to wander through too, I suppose. It would be tricky if your acquaintances and his were a singular circle. Has he been helping you with your recovery?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "He has as much as i will let him. Although i do love being doted on, i am also fond of my independence. He has ensured i have rested and eaten and otherwise spent time curled up and cosy, and i could ask for nothing more. Almost two cycles down the line... He is still as much of a wonderful husband as he ever has been." Her expression softens into something almost peaceful, sipping her tea. "...And how, pray tell, Adelle... Is your own romance?"

Adellenne Hocoleux: "He is..." Her cheeks darken as she glances briefly away, her ears wiggling. "He is well, thankfully. The tribe took ill some time ago but we were able to figure out a way to stop their sickness from spreading further. At the moment he is trying to find a way to come visit again. It is not possible for me to go his way at the moment, as much as I would like to." She sighs and shakes her head. "We are trying to see if it is possible for him to remain here for a moon."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "A whole moon! Perhaps then, i could steal a bell to meet him?" Her enthusiasm getting the better of her, she retreats for a moment, quickly wilting. "Or... Perhaps not, considering..." A small frown, dismissed by another bite of honey biscuit and washed away with a sip of tea. "...Why can you not visit?"

My excitement was quickly quelled upon further thinking. I know he is a Hydrae; the same as Dusk and Dubus and all the rest. I cannot imagine his opinion of me is a good one.

Adellenne Hocoleux's brows furrow. "Of course I want you to meet him, Bexy. You have nothing to be worried about in that regard," she assures her. "His family is very against anything removed from their typical traditions. That I am an elezen, tall for a woman, scarred and a Conjurer are all aspects they find a complaint with. His uncle in particular. His brother and I have come to an...understanding."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...I haven't exactly the best track record with his brothers. Dusk and Dubus i am fairly certain would still be far happier if i did not draw breath, and i think Auro'usk is terrified of me. Assuming he knows this, i can't have left a terribly good impression before i have even had chance to meet him proper." She considers a moment, tapping a gloved fingertip on the edge of her teacup. "...So many issues to have, and so few of them of any meaning. For what reason? As though you're able to control even half of those things. And even if you could, you shouldn't. That sounds like their problem, not yours..." A small, drawn sigh is given from her flurry of words. "...Which i suppose, does in turn, make it somewhat your problem..."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "It is something I am somewhat used to, in a way. There are many people who view what I can do as something to be feared. As for the Hydrae brothers, I apologize that your introduction to them was...less than kind. Dubus is truly one of the most loyal people I know, rivaling perhaps only you." She chuckles, although her expression falls. "I cannot begin to express how sorry I am for Dusk. I think you have far more mercy for him than I ever will regarding the situation."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "They need only fear it should they have a reason to. I pray they do not give you one." Her gaze levels on Adelle's as they speak of Dubus, a contemplative little sound that only pulls into a thin lipped smile at Dusk's mention. "...I am not a woman known for my mercy, Adelle. But i would like to think my kindness and loyalty are promises better kept. He draws breath for Neoma's sake... And every moment he spends in my presence, i will make him know it."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...There are worse things than death, after all."

My care for Neoma was stronger than my desire to make Dusk suffer. At least, in so typical a sense.

When nature is restricted, it will find a way.

And so will i.

Adellenne Hocoleux: "You are not wrong in that regard," she sighs. "I decided to simply let Mist make the decision for his...punishment. Are you...how are you doing working with everyone?" She sips again at her tea, finishing it down to just a few bits of loose tea. "I trust no one else is making any sort of..." She waves a dismissive hand. "Situation?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...They are not. The rest i... I trust. I always have. All has always been well, until Dusk did as he did. He..." Her brows furrow, and she quickly drains her tea before pulling her hand away from the frosting cup with a small huff, and a held silence that lingers for an uncomfortably long time. "...The company house no longer feels as... Safe, as it once did. Even if i know he isn't there."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...How many more people harbor his views, Adelle? How many people think of me as.... As a monster?"

Adellenne Hocoleux brushes her thumb over the rim of her cup. "You are not, nor have you ever been, a monster." She states firmly. "And I sincerely doubt that any hold such a view when they spend time actually getting to know you. You have a standing invitation to Mhira's Clan, for example. Unfortunately there are people who have been taught to rid themselves of that which they fear, and Dusk took that to a degree which cannot stand." Adelle's ears wiggle. "It was your home before it was his."

Bexy Amalaryssia gazes up to Adelle, meeting her eyes. Lips pulled into a more defiant line, she gives a short bob of her head, only exhaling her held breath after a few long moments. "...I am angry. Because i would have so willingly entered a battlefield for him at his own bidding, had he needed my aid. I knew he hated me, Adelle. Feared me. I just... Never understood quite how bad." She briefly smoothes her gloved hand over where the wound once ran. "...But i do now."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "I think perhaps it is more fear than hatred. Hatred causes one to be reactive and can lead to...impulsive behaviors. Fear is generally more motivating for planning how one will behave. Dusk...feared you. He made choices based on his fear, not hatred."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...He only had reason to fear me if he saught to make Neoma miseriable. Which he assures me, he will not." She slowly plucks up a rolanberry choux, mulling in the moment before she glances upwards once again. "...I heard you had an altercation with Mattisaux." She calmly speaks, if not tinged with a somber tone. "...I heard he punched you."

Adellenne Hocoleux's expression shifts. It's a flicker, barely more, but -fury- dances through her eyes and in the lines that flank her mouth. In just a blink, perhaps two, her expression is as reserved as ever. "You did?" She reaches out to pour herself another cup and this time drinks it hot, hissing briefly at the unexpected heat. "...I was not surprised, to be quite honest. He broke nothing except the Shroud's patience with him."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...He broke more than that." Her gloved hands reach to pour herself another measure of tea. "...He betrayed me, Adelle. I am under no illusion that any harm he could bring to you, you could mend and enact back on him tenfold, but he..." She tears her gaze away, to the reddened liquid in her grasp. "...I asked... One thing. Just one thing of him. To not hurt those i loved. And he did it anyway."

...I am still sore and bitter about the whole ordeal.

...Do my words truly mean so little to him?

Perhaps he was right, that night in the Lochs.

...That not everyone is my friend. That i should not be so... Trusting.

Adellenne Hocoleux's jaw tenses. For several long moments she doesn't speak, although she sets her cup on the table and removes her glasses to clean them. Adelle sighs. "I believe I might hate him, Bexy, but I can assure you that betraying you is the last thing on his mind. If not for his hand on my shoulder, I would not have been able to hold out long enough to ask questions of...of what we both thought was you. We gazed upon what we believed was your corpse, and he kept me upright." Adelle folds her arms over her chest and for perhaps the first time, allows her anger to come to the surface. It hardens her eyes and the line of her mouth, stiffens her jaw and sends just enough color to her cheeks that for a moment - with her hair pulled back and her eyes looking just -so- that it's Gasparmont's expression stamped into her own. "He is as much a child as Dusk is, but at least his choices are reactions. I doubt there is much thought behind his eyes."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...I believe the feeling is mutual between the both of you, from the things i hear him say and tell him to keep to himself. He knows how much you mean to me. How much you all do. I cannot blame you for hating him." A small, almost imperceptible breath. "You know we are---" Her voice hitches, for only a moment. "...Were...? Are... Friends. Would you have buried him? Killed him yet, were we not?" She asks, draining her rapidly cooling tea. The look she shares with Adelle is a knowing one.

Adellenne Hocoleux: "If he gave me reason?" She asks, as if clarifying something for herself. "Perhaps. There is less and less reason behind it. My memories and thoughts of him are at best a tangled gnarl by now. Some occassions when I have seen him I felt nothing more than worry, and now there is a bitter undercurrent I cannot shake. For your sake, I do little more than...I suppose it might be called taunting. I hold my ground much to his chagrin."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...For my sake, you've not done worse." A small, bittersweet smile. "...I appreciate it." Despite her pleasantries, Bexy slowly deflates to settle an elbow on the table, propping her head up in a gloved hand. "...Eveyrthing still feels so... Raw. Dusk's betrayal, and then Mattisaux's.... I had just -killed- for him, Adelle. Perhaps everything was more than a little raw."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "I wish he saw people the way you do. The star would be a lovelier place for it, I think," She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "What reason did he possibly have to tell you? I had said nothing of it, and I did not so much as threaten to speak a word. All I told him after was to 'run' so that the trees did not find further insult with his presence..."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I... Don't know. He wanted to tell me first, he said. Before you did." Her eyes slowly shift upwards. "...And i would not have blamed you for keeping it from me, considering last time." Another thin lipped smile, as she takes another bite of pastry. "...You think the star would be a lovelier place if people thought like -me-?"

If... People were like me?

Gods. There would scarcely be a world left. It would quickly become mired in violence, if everyone defended those they love with such ferocity. The world is unfair. And life is cruel.

And sometimes, i... Have to be that cruelty, to ensure that what i hold dearest is kept safe.

Adellenne Hocoleux scoffs. "Do not sound so surprised, Bexy. You are loyal and hold to your promises, you value the lives of the innocent and do not seek to harm those who have done no wrong." Adelle briefly reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear. "Your sense of mercy is yours, I understand that now, and I would wager that yours is far more generous than mine. I do not have it in me to forget, and it is even more difficult to forgive."

Bexy Amalaryssia blinks slowly at Adelle's words. Almost blankly, at first; her expression betrays that she may well not have heard it at all. But then another blink, as tears began to pool in the bottom of her icy gaze. "...That's..." She swallows, biting the notion back. "...The kindest thing i have heard someone speak of me in some time. I... I wish people understood. That all i ever wanted was to protect those dearest to me. Even if it is not the kindest of means, the intention is..." A short, waver of a breath is given before the back of her hand is brought up to her eyes. "...Being unable to forget must be as much of a curse as it is a blessing. If someone told me i could remember all the happiest moments of my life with startling clarity, but suffer the misery in much the same way, i do not think i would choose it."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "It is better than remembering nothing at all," she leans forward and places a hand lightly on Bexy's elbow. "It took even me time to understand, Bexy. You have watched me grow to be a woman of my own means as I am now, as much as I have watched your heart heal and soften through the cycles. People are still bound to fear us, for reasons beyond and within our control, and we have every right to hate them for it. You did not make yourself anything but what you are." She smiles.

Adellenne Hocoleux: "You have made yourself a forgiving woman who protects all she can, sometimes to her detriment."

...Adelle’s kind words almost brought me to tears. Even... Even if there are people afraid of me in the world, and there surely are, there are people that love me, too.

People that respect me, and look up to me.

...I think now, more than any other time... I needed to hear it.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...I do not think i would be happy with myself, should i be anything less." A small, pensive murmur as her gaze flicks to Adelle's hand, lowering her own to rest atop it. "...I remember the woman you were, Adelle. The wallflower has become a forest almost as formidable as the Shroud itself. Though... I do not hate people for fearing me. It is not always such a terrible thing..."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "I prefer to be underestimated," When she withdraws her hand it's with an almost disappointed sigh. "I doubt I will have such an upper hand with Mattisaux in the future. Perhaps he has learned enough of a lesson to keep his hands to himself though, for his sake?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "We can only hope." Bexy smiles, albiet briefly. "...Fear keeps those who might hurt those i care for away. I know there are those who might have quarrel with our company for the work we do. But i know the reputation we have for our enemies, and i much plan to keep it that way."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "How exactly did you respond to his confession?" She asks, and finally sees fit to actually eat the florentine she plucked from the assortment. "Is he going to behave a bit better when around polite company?"

Bexy Amalaryssia slowly lowers her gaze to the table. "...I wept. I was angry. Hurt. But i never raised my voice. The ice stuck him to the ground without my bidding... We were in Coerthas. I asked him why... And when i had made mention of his betrayal, he all but begged me for a way to rectify it." Quietly, she pauses. "...But i told him i did not know. And i still don't. I... I wanted to be alone with my tears, for a time. So i went home. I've heard nothing from him since."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "Do you want him to try?" Adelle put her head to the side. "Or...would you prefer things are simply left as they are?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I..." She glances up. "...I don't know. I... Would like to think it is not the last i speak to him. We are friends...We have been there for eachother when it matters most. But not if... Not if my words and feelings are going to be so quickly discarded."

Adellenne Hocoleux: "And do you wish for him to approach you first to fix things? There is always the risk that if you leave it in his hands, he will not take the movement forward that you wish. Is that something you are willing to risk?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...If he does not approach first... Then clearly, i am not close enough nor important enough of a friend for him to make repairations with..."

...Our conversation left me much to think on. Good and bad, both.

...I wonder what she intends to do.

[detroitpigout]

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