#i wish they have been diced smaller but they should have cooked down quite a bit

[tubapun]

This soup makes me wish I could post smells I'm so proud of it

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 7)

“Alright, first things first, we have to dice some potatoes!” Ethan declares.

She thinks that he is enjoying this; a taste of the domesticy that had been stolen so early from him. She doesn’t understand it at all really--the appeal of cooking. He throws terms and phrases that mean nothing to her, ‘drain the potatoes in a colander!’ ‘whisk the mayo with…!’ ‘then we’ll toss the potatoes and mayo mixture!’ The only thing that she would like to toss is the bowl; she would like to toss it across the room. But she doesn’t wish to startle her napping girls, lest they burst into three separate clouds of frenzied flies. Neither does she want to clean eggs and potato off of her walls.

“The eggs, Alcina!” He instructs, pointing at the eggs that he had previously scrambled. “Pour them into the bowl with the celery, and onions!”  She isn’t sure why they can’t just toss the potatoes in now as well.

The man hums as he tosses sprinkles of celery salt and pickle relish into his own bowl. His enthusiasm is almost enduring. She can’t help but wonder how many times he has done this with his Mia. He glances at her and narrows his eyes, “you haven’t started tossing the eggs and onions!”

She doesn’t want to tell him that she doesn’t know what he means. Instead she says, “my hands are aching.”

He nods, “are they aching too much to whisk the mayo?” More to himself he hums, “the medication should have kicked in by now, maybe we should get you more…”

“I am fine, Winters. Just, show me how to whisk the mayo.”

“Of course!” He declares. “Now usually when Mia and I do this we have some cooking tunes playing but you don’t have a radio.”

“I have a record player…”

“Great, where is it?”

“Bela,” She calls to the closest girl. “Be a dear and start the record player, nothing loud.”

“Great! Whisking is pretty simple” He replies. She doesn’t expect him to reach over and take her by the wrist. She is grateful that he is too preoccupied to catch the slight flush of her cheeks. With a few more trivial instructions, he guides her hand along. “Do you think that you have a feel for it?”

“You could have spoken your instructions.” She says stiffly. “I understand now.”

Unperturbed, he replies. “Good. So finish that and then we can mix all of the ingredients and put it in the...you have a fridge, right? Tell me that you have a fridge!”

She clears her throat, “I do not.”

“Oh no!” He runs his fingers through his hairline. “Dammit! Okay, that’s fine...we’ll just stick it outside and hope that the birds don’t steal it.”

She watches him take the bowls and toss them all into the largest of them. He puts a lid over it and shakes it well. She hates that it is such a good distraction, that it makes her feel significantly better to watch him flounce around her kitchen. She wants to blame it fully on the medication and the supplements kicking in but deep down she knows that she can’t quite do that. There is a warmth in the castle, the castle hasn’t felt comfortable in a very long while. And the smell is rather pleasant, fresh and quite tasty.

She thinks that she would like the feeling to remain; this kinder, more mundane feeling. For once nothing hurts. For once, however brief the moment will be, she doesn’t dwell on her predicament. Just beneath the surface, a part of her wonders what her life would have been like without the cadou. She holds her hand to her torso, to the one scar that never healed.

.oOo.

With less pain and a decent meal, Alcina is significantly less cranky. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Did you like the salad?” Ethan asks.

“It was…” She trailed off. “Not horrid.”

He supposes that, ‘not horrid’ is a start. “I guess I should head out and start the hunt…” He strokes his chin. Truth be told he isn’t particularly thrilled by the prospect, not when a hoard of monstrosities seem to be waiting for him in the shadows. “Want to come?”

“I’m in no condition for a hunt.” Her expression dims. “Do you think I’d be sending a foolish man thing like yourself to do it if I could?” And then her expression goes absolutely dark. He doesn’t quite catch it but he thinks that he hears her murmur something about being useless. He isn’t sure if she is calling him more names of if she is speaking of herself. The quietness of the remark has him inclined to guess the latter.

“I just...could use…” the company. He struggles to come up with something else to say, lest she get the wrong idea. “ I could use someone to keep an eye out. Ya know for lycans and stuff.”

She gives a haughty sniff, and seems to shed a few layers of doubt. “They’d be fools to come by my castle unannounced!”

He has to chuckle; it would seem that she is getting at least some of her vigor and dramatics back. “I can teach you to use a gun.” He offers. Maybe then she’ll stop sulking and pouting. Maybe then he can move on in good conscience. “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is.” He loads the gun and fires a shot. The shatter of glass echos about the room.

She flinches, lip twitching in annoyance. “Not in my castle!���

He clenches his teeth in a cringe. “Yeeeah, I can teach you during the hunt.” He hands her one of his pistols, a smaller one. One that she can get a comfortable grip on. God, he must be as big a fool as she says that he is to give her a gun that she can so easily turn on him. That is, after he teaches her to use it. For now she turns it over in her hand, staring at it as though it will fire itself.

She follows him into the forest, “one perk of being smaller,” he says as they walk. “Is that you’re more inconspicuous. You can sneak up on your prey.” She can so long as she is more graceful than he. So far, he is under the impression that she is. She slips between trees with ease. She doesn’t have to bother ducking under branches nor moving them out of the way, neither does she make as much noise as she treks about.

This would be a wonderful thing, if only it didn’t instill a sort of fear within him. Somehow he still feels as though she will extend her claws and start swiping. Every now and then she slips away from him and his stomach lurches; claws or none, he doesn’t like it when she is not in his line of sight.

She emerges a moment later, “there is a deer over there.” He jolts at the sound of her voice. Christ, she is elusive now.

“H-how, are you so quiet?” He knows the answer but inquires anyhow.

“Just shoot the deer, Winters or show me how to do it.”

“Right, of course. Deer. The animal.” He clarifies. “I’m not calling you dear.”

Lady Dimitrescu inhales and simply points in the direction of the deer. He wanders into the clearing. The deer she has come across is a rather decent size, at least enough to feed the five of them. He lifts his gun and fires his shot. It falls dead in an instant--at least his struggles with the lycans have some pay off. And in more ways than one--he sighs knowing that he will have to drag the deer carcass all the way back to the castle. At least he has built the stamina for it.

He turns around to reach for his knife and jerks. He doesn’t know when Lady Dimitrescu had appeared behind him, it is like she has emerged from thin air. He had very nearly shot her. He lowers his gun with a sigh of relief. “You need to stop doing that?”

“Doing what, Winters?”

“Jumping out at me!”

“I am just walking.”

“You aren’t as heavy anymore…”

The woman’s face colors.

“Th-that’s not how I meant it! I wasn’t trying to imply…” he thinks that his cheeks might be a deeper red. She probably hadn’t even taken it that way until he made a big deal of it. “You’re a beautiful lady.” He blurts, now his entire face is red. “I didn’t mean! I mean, I do, I think that you’re not hideous or heavy…” He wishes that she would just tell him to shut the hell up so he can stop digging himself deeper.

.oOo.

Her face is so hot, she can’t remember the last time that she has felt so awkward and flustered. Frankly she isn’t sure if the scarlet on her face can be attributed to his careless comments on her weight or his remark that she is beautiful...not hideous? She isn’t even sure if she is being complimented.

She ponders it the entire way back to her castle, over dinner, and ponders it still as she dresses herself for bed. She picks up one of several night gowns. She resents that she loves the night gowns that he has chosen for her. The Duke, she reminds herself, probably chose it. He is acquainted with her tastes.

She holds the cloth against her frame. She just isn’t certain that she will love how it looks on her.

She pulls it over her head and smoothes the cloth over her body. It is, woefully, a size too big. She swallows as the sleeve slips down her shoulder. She grits her teeth and wraps her arms around herself, rubbing her own arms.

She doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t feel like herself. She slides down the wall and exhales deeply. Ethan had called her beautiful; she wishes that he hadn’t stumbled. Wishes that he hadn’t taken it back. She needs some sort of reassurance, never mind where it comes from.

Just where did she put her kiseru?

She hears a knock, it is the last sound that she wanted to hear. “You in there? Your daughters want a bedtime story.”

She sighs again and stands up. She unlocks the door without a word. She clears her throat, “thank you, I almost forgot.”