Note: This is not my regular sort of writing at all so bear with me. It's much more fluff than I'm used to writing, but the idea has been bugging me for a year. Inspiration finally clicked after seeing a movie entitled Life in Day. Good movie. My fic will be less fast-paced. Enjoy.
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Time
by Paradox Horizon
Sage was staying with Cye for a week during vacation. After Talpa's defeat, the warriors had gone their separate ways for a while, but circumstance had allowed a short visit. It was his first night here and a simple, but delicious meal had awaited his arrival. Steam wafted up from the chicken and rice on the plate in front of him. The plate was a pale cream, with a thin green border. It had been made here, by Cye's mother many years ago. The buttery sauce on the chicken was bright yellow against the plate. The steamed vegetables' bright hues fought to catch his eye. The soft tan bread was a somber contrast.
" Hey Sage. You know, it's not just for looking at," Cye teased.
Sage grinned back and took his fork. He chewed slowly, amazement creeping over his features.
" This is really good," he said at last. " Is this a new recipe, Cye?"
" It's not my cooking, actually," Cye admitted. " It's my cousin Rosemary's ."
" Where is she?" Sage asked.
" She's in the kitchen," Cye's mother said. " Rosemary! Please come out and meet our guest."
" The dishes..." a soft voice protested weakly.
" They can wait. Please don't be rude. Sage would like to compliment your cooking in person."
The girl stepped from behind the door. Her hair was a redder shade of auburn than Cye's. It was slightly curly and hung a bit past her shoulders. Wispy bangs shielded her eyes from meeting anyone's gaze.
" Hello," she said, staring intently at the table's centerpiece.
" Hello, Rosemary," Sage replied with a friendly smile. " This really excellent chicken, you know."
The girl blushed slightly, " It's nothing much. It's a very simple recipe, really. Just butter and herbs."
" Who taught you to cook like this? Your mother?" Sage inquired, hoping to ease the girl into conversation.
" No," she said flatly, and fled quickly to the kitchen.
Sage turned, puzzled to his friend. Cye's expression was one of discomfort.
" Sage...her mother is dead. She died giving birth to her."
" Oh..." Sage stood quickly, and headed towards the kitchen.
Rosemary was standing at the sink before the afore-mentioned dishes. Her shoulders trembled slightly as she ran a cloth methodically over a dish. Sage cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. He felt odd standing there. He'd been unnaturally impulsive. The girl turned in a quick, startled motion. The dish slipped from her hands, smashed into pieces on the tile floor. The girl gasped. Sage could hear someone in the other room pushed back their chair. A voice whispered something and the person sat down again.
" I'm sorry," Sage said inanely, bending to help her pick up the pieces.
She didn't respond.
Sage, normally calm and collected in any situation, began to feel nervous butterflies beating desperately against the walls of his stomach. Despite having had sisters, or maybe because of it, he often found himself at a loss when talking to women. Having one possibly upset, or even mad at him certainly wasn't helping.
" I'm sorry," he repeated, " About what I said. I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
The words tumbled from his mouth. She looked up at him. Her eyes were a shade of green not unlike the plant she was named for.
" I know. It wasn't your fault. I've been a little depressed recently," she paused and turned away from him. " I'm fine now. Why don't you go back and finish dinner."
" I'm not hungry," Sage lied. " I want to make up for this somehow, if you'll let me."
" You don't have to." It wasn't a refusal.
" Could I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"
" Not tomorrow."
" Thursday?"
" Thursday is fine."
" Okay. Thursday at seven." Sage left the kitchen, unsure why the butterflies who made their home in his stomach were now turning ecstatic figure-eight's.
As he sat down again, Cye grinned at him.
" Sage's gotta date," he said.
" I do not," said Sage.
" You do too. I heard everything. "
" Eavesdropper," Sage accused, and attempted to end the conversation by concentrating intently on the chicken.
" Flirt," Cye teased.
" I just want to apologize," Sage protested.
" Okay. If you insist," Cye winked conspiratorially and returned to his meal.
" It's not a date," Sage repeated mentally. " Is it?"
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Time
by Paradox Horizon
Sage was staying with Cye for a week during vacation. After Talpa's defeat, the warriors had gone their separate ways for a while, but circumstance had allowed a short visit. It was his first night here and a simple, but delicious meal had awaited his arrival. Steam wafted up from the chicken and rice on the plate in front of him. The plate was a pale cream, with a thin green border. It had been made here, by Cye's mother many years ago. The buttery sauce on the chicken was bright yellow against the plate. The steamed vegetables' bright hues fought to catch his eye. The soft tan bread was a somber contrast.
" Hey Sage. You know, it's not just for looking at," Cye teased.
Sage grinned back and took his fork. He chewed slowly, amazement creeping over his features.
" This is really good," he said at last. " Is this a new recipe, Cye?"
" It's not my cooking, actually," Cye admitted. " It's my cousin Rosemary's ."
" Where is she?" Sage asked.
" She's in the kitchen," Cye's mother said. " Rosemary! Please come out and meet our guest."
" The dishes..." a soft voice protested weakly.
" They can wait. Please don't be rude. Sage would like to compliment your cooking in person."
The girl stepped from behind the door. Her hair was a redder shade of auburn than Cye's. It was slightly curly and hung a bit past her shoulders. Wispy bangs shielded her eyes from meeting anyone's gaze.
" Hello," she said, staring intently at the table's centerpiece.
" Hello, Rosemary," Sage replied with a friendly smile. " This really excellent chicken, you know."
The girl blushed slightly, " It's nothing much. It's a very simple recipe, really. Just butter and herbs."
" Who taught you to cook like this? Your mother?" Sage inquired, hoping to ease the girl into conversation.
" No," she said flatly, and fled quickly to the kitchen.
Sage turned, puzzled to his friend. Cye's expression was one of discomfort.
" Sage...her mother is dead. She died giving birth to her."
" Oh..." Sage stood quickly, and headed towards the kitchen.
Rosemary was standing at the sink before the afore-mentioned dishes. Her shoulders trembled slightly as she ran a cloth methodically over a dish. Sage cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. He felt odd standing there. He'd been unnaturally impulsive. The girl turned in a quick, startled motion. The dish slipped from her hands, smashed into pieces on the tile floor. The girl gasped. Sage could hear someone in the other room pushed back their chair. A voice whispered something and the person sat down again.
" I'm sorry," Sage said inanely, bending to help her pick up the pieces.
She didn't respond.
Sage, normally calm and collected in any situation, began to feel nervous butterflies beating desperately against the walls of his stomach. Despite having had sisters, or maybe because of it, he often found himself at a loss when talking to women. Having one possibly upset, or even mad at him certainly wasn't helping.
" I'm sorry," he repeated, " About what I said. I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
The words tumbled from his mouth. She looked up at him. Her eyes were a shade of green not unlike the plant she was named for.
" I know. It wasn't your fault. I've been a little depressed recently," she paused and turned away from him. " I'm fine now. Why don't you go back and finish dinner."
" I'm not hungry," Sage lied. " I want to make up for this somehow, if you'll let me."
" You don't have to." It wasn't a refusal.
" Could I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"
" Not tomorrow."
" Thursday?"
" Thursday is fine."
" Okay. Thursday at seven." Sage left the kitchen, unsure why the butterflies who made their home in his stomach were now turning ecstatic figure-eight's.
As he sat down again, Cye grinned at him.
" Sage's gotta date," he said.
" I do not," said Sage.
" You do too. I heard everything. "
" Eavesdropper," Sage accused, and attempted to end the conversation by concentrating intently on the chicken.
" Flirt," Cye teased.
" I just want to apologize," Sage protested.
" Okay. If you insist," Cye winked conspiratorially and returned to his meal.
" It's not a date," Sage repeated mentally. " Is it?"