widowed heroine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
retraced) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-03-11 12:21 pm
retraced) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-03-11 12:21 pm
because I promised raincake
Who: Gilbert Nightray and OPEN
When: The afternoon of the 11th
Where: The park near Winthers lake
Summary: Gilbert laments best when there's bad weather.
Warnings: Warnings for soggy cake
[There's a cake in the rain.
Well, more specifically, there's a cake in a box on a bench near a man in the rain.
A box that doesn't reside inside of a bag, and is therefore damp from the rain. And, from the state of it and the man sitting next to it, it's been sitting in the rain for a while. It's a curious sight indeed. While people stroll by with umbrellas overhead and jackets wrapped tightly around themselves to protect from the late winter storm, Gilbert Nightray is sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes staring directly at the soggy ground through his damp hair, a half-finished cigarette hanging between his index and middle fingers.
People have been encouraging him to relax lately, take a rest, spend some time by himself to be alone and sort through his thoughts, to meditate, do yoga--the list goes on and on. It seems different people all have their different ways to unwind and cope, and so far none of them had worked for him. If he's home, he'll clean and bake and fret. If he's at work, he'll clean and bake and fret.
So he's relaxing outside. He's taking a 'breather'. He's trying not to think about obligations and duty and doing his best face his anxiety and stress head on, so he's sitting outside in the rain with a cake in a soaked box.
You know you're curious.]
When: The afternoon of the 11th
Where: The park near Winthers lake
Summary: Gilbert laments best when there's bad weather.
Warnings: Warnings for soggy cake
[There's a cake in the rain.
Well, more specifically, there's a cake in a box on a bench near a man in the rain.
A box that doesn't reside inside of a bag, and is therefore damp from the rain. And, from the state of it and the man sitting next to it, it's been sitting in the rain for a while. It's a curious sight indeed. While people stroll by with umbrellas overhead and jackets wrapped tightly around themselves to protect from the late winter storm, Gilbert Nightray is sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes staring directly at the soggy ground through his damp hair, a half-finished cigarette hanging between his index and middle fingers.
People have been encouraging him to relax lately, take a rest, spend some time by himself to be alone and sort through his thoughts, to meditate, do yoga--the list goes on and on. It seems different people all have their different ways to unwind and cope, and so far none of them had worked for him. If he's home, he'll clean and bake and fret. If he's at work, he'll clean and bake and fret.
So he's relaxing outside. He's taking a 'breather'. He's trying not to think about obligations and duty and doing his best face his anxiety and stress head on, so he's sitting outside in the rain with a cake in a soaked box.
You know you're curious.]
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[Came her own reply as she cocked her head to the side, still staring. Strange girl? If her attitude didn't give it away, her clothes surely would.]
Why are you sitting out here in the rain? Sure, the rain is great sometimes, but it takes forever for clothes to dry, you know.
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It doesn't take that long. There are machines here that dry them pretty fast.
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[There's just a long look of bewilderment before she sighs, shoulders slumping slightly.]
This place has everything. It's insane.
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[The reaction is pretty familiar; it's the exact same one that he's had to every new device and gadget that he's come across since arriving here.]
They have them in the apartments.
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[Or maybe she did. She vaguely recalls being told those are for drying, but in her head, they both looked identical.]
What's in the box? If it's something important, then it's going to be ruined you know.
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[Oh look, he's helping! Well, that's strangely nice. It's so rare that he knows more about technology than someone else. Briefly, he glances back down at the cake and throws his cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his shoe.]
The box? Oh. It's a cake.
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[She looked at him, curious, giving her shoulders another shrug.]
I don't know what that is.
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[Why does he feel like he's had this conversation with someone else recently...]
It's mostly sweet.
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[Tired of standing she decides to sit down beside him on the space that's cake free, holding the umbrella above them both, setting her bag of milk down.]
Sweet like honey or what?
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It can be, but not always. There's lots of different kinds.
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Can I try some of it?
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[Glancing back down at the box.]
Sure, but I don't have a fork...
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[Because they only had knives and spoons, those silly Vikings!]
So it's okay.
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But I don't have anything else to cut it with either.
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Here...take it.
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She just stares for a moment, before moving to pluck one of the flowers off the top, popping it in her mouth. Instantly her eyes go wide.]
It's so sweet!
[And then her fingers are in the cake, pulling off a piece as she sticks it in her mouth unceremoniously. It was the sweetest, most amazing thing she had ever tasted in her entire life.]
It's so good! I can't believe it!
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There are other things made with chocolate here...not just cake.
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[Unless you're Break.]