#tbh there's a dearth of good fruit tarts where i live... might have to take up google's offer and make one sometime :thinking:

[princessmacedon]

One of Chad's hands swipes at his mouth in what seems to be a bid to dispel any drool, and Maria, for her part, lets her fingers tent upward, a tapestry of knuckles and fingertips obscuring the widening of her smile. Not that it matters all too much, in the end, for it still touches her eyes with a crinkle of contentment... nor does she care to hide it all too much.

"Hee hee... sorry." And she is, somewhat. Not for the effort, oh no -- they're worth every ounce of it, and she'll be certain to tell them so, should they ever contrive to doubt themself-- but for the burden so many tarts would place! Even if she'd given them to him for sharing, wasn't this... well, maybe it was too much. But he liked fruit tarts! And every time she tried to pick just one, she thought of how much he might like another...

"Personable..." Maria repeats, and then giggles again. Perhaps he isn't personable by the most standard definition, but isn't he really? They're always kind and good where it matters, and they've manners in a perpetual hacky-sack race with their honesty -- there! Just so! An awkward hand held over his mouth as he chews on crust and compliments, what feels like their whole heart poured into the latter. "Heeheehee... You're too nice! What if I get a big head, Chad? But, thank you." One would think her face would hurt by now, but still she flashes another toothy grin. "That really makes me happy. And you're right! I promised, didn't I? Okay, I'll have some, too." Though her eyes remain fixed on them even as she balances the tart between her fingers.

"I think you would've fit in with the Deer too, though." She flashes another smile, then bites into the tart. It's a tough thing to earn every one of Chad's glowing words, and maybe she hasn't really, but she still smiles as she chews. Reason suits him, she thinks. Chews more. Maybe fire? Somehow dark, yet bright and warm -- or maybe wind, cutting to their enemies and gentle to their friends. Thunder, too, doesn't seem so bad... yeah, she thinks. Swallows. Beams at him. "It suits you!

"Do you have a favorite element? Or are you waiting until you try?" Her legs stretch under the table, then tuck back under the seat. "I like fire and wind the most, but I have a friend in the Deer who makes ice magic look so pretty..." At that, a sideways grin. "She's not personable the usual way, but she's lovely like you. Maybe you'll meet her one day!"

sun’s shine

princessmacedon​:

There’s an almost-skip in her step that Maria must fiercely stamp out as she gathers her assorted baked triumphs - not for embarrassment, but for the safety of the fruit tarts as she makes ready to carry them out. Not once, not twice, but– well, she really shouldn’t count, if she’s being honest; it happens every time she remembers the sparkle in their eye, all bright and eager even though she knows they’ll insist on ‘paying her back’ later for some silly reason (she giggles again). 

“Blackberry,” she announces first with a smile, a pair of circles sat on a plate just smaller than the size of her hand. Then, “Lemon!” in a second pair, this time cut into squares. “Strawberry!” is, of course, a slightly bigger plate with a plethora of the tiniest tarts one might imagine – practically thumb-sized cups with a dollop of custard and a little namesake fruit on top! And, finally, she presents “Peach, hee hee,” with a smile and giggle to match: a full sized, proper fruit tart with a bit of crumble on top. (Somehow, somewhen, she’s procured a little cup of whipped cream – only a little! – to serve on top.) 

“That’s all of them!” The last of her procurements to land at the table is a small pair of plates and accompanying forks… Though looking at everything gathered here now before one beamish friend, she thinks they may have had a point when protesting that it was quite an amount. Elbows prop on the weathered table, fingers laced together and her chin dropped cheerily upon it – she paints the very picture of delight, of anticipation, her waiting grin in unseen contrast to the eager tapping of her toes against the floor below. Tip-tap, tap-tip, in alternation and succession. 

“Hee hee.” With a turn of the head, her cheek squishes slightly against the back of her wrist, a perfect punctuation to the sheepishness that colors her smile. “I thought that you could share the leftovers with new friends, but there’s still a lot after that, huh?” A finger lifts, then to land just so on the side of the strawberry tarts’ plate and push it a fraction-turn. “Look! Easy to share, right?

“You pick first, Chad! It’s your celebration after all, heeheehee.” She has to wonder– which one will he like most? They might be her test taster, but this is her important research for holidays and birthdays to come! And yet, it’s far from the most important thing. Waiting, she breathes a quiet huff of laughter to herself, eyes narrowed into crescents. “So, which house did you wind up in? What classes are you looking forward to? I want to hear!” 

Bramimond on a biscuit, these are… These are so many fucking tarts. Brown eyes widen more with each dish Maria sets down, until they look fit to fall out their sockets; Especially with the way they dart to and fro, too, unsure of which to admire first. Everything from the way the tarts are shaped, the way they’re decorated, and the smell, saints, the smell, is just so… Positively lovely. It’s got Maria’s handiwork written all over it, for sure. And it all smells so good…

“Ah,” they croak, before (un)subtly wiping the corner on their mouth to check for drool. “This really is way too much…” Though their mouth says one thing, their hands say another, already creeping for the plate of strawberry tarts Maria had gently nudged towards them. Starting small, on one hand, and on the other… Damn, they can’t say no to strawberry. They pick one up gingerly, tilt it slightly to admire it, careful not to let the strawberry fall.

“I got into the Black Eagles House. I was considering the Deer, but… I don’t know, everyone seems so… personable, there. Plus, I think I’m looking forward to the Reason classes, actually… I either don’t know anything or know too much about the other stuff right now.”

They trail off, look at the tart in their hand, and take the opportunity in silence to pop it into their mouth.

Chad pauses. Chews. His eyes light up before the rest of him does, and he, mid-chew, turns to Maria, covering his mouth with a hand to retain some semblance of table manners, but if he doesn’t tell her right now how freaking good these are —

“These are really good,” he manages to articulate around his mouthful, omitting the swear he might’ve slipped in otherwise for emphasis, finishes chewing, swallows. “It’s like, perfectly sweet and sour but not too sour, and the dough is all… Aromatic, in a nice baked way, like butter, but doesn’t overpower the fruit, but you can still taste it through the fruit —” He’s already reaching for another, before pausing to gingerly pick up his portion of blackberry and slip it onto his plate, instead. He flushes a little again, unsure why, a bit of bluster to rein in enthusiasm amok.

“You have some, too! We’re supposed to share, yeah?” A resolute nod from the appointed taste-tester. “The strawberry’s a huge success, try it!”