FIFTY-ONE
Hm?
Dáinsleif isn't in her arms…
…It's also cold, her nose tells her.
Eyes still closed, she roots around for Dáinsleif—doesn't find him, so she pokes out her arm to nab him from the floor.
Brr. Dáinsleif is cold.
So sorry, Dáinsleif.
Curling the blanket more tightly around herself, and curling herself around Dáinsleif, she lets her breathing slow down again…
…
…Is it morning?...
…Hm. She's a little bit hungry…
…Are Mrs. Maria and Mrs. Tsubasa awake yet?...
…It looks like she's not going to sleep much longer; she might as well get up. If no else is awake, then maybe she can get through the last few chapters of The Penultimate Peril and get started on The End.
Now that is an exciting thought.
When she reaches the kitchen, though she finds Mrs. Maria reading the newspaper and sipping what she assumes is coffee.
"Good morning," Mrs. Maria beams at her, "I didn't expect you to wake up so soon."
Definitely coffee, she muses, from the smell of it and the half-full coffee pot on the table—which isn't for Mrs. Maria, since Mrs. Maria is only allowed to have one cup of coffee a day. Will Mrs. Tsubasa drink it, then?
She replies, carefully pouring herself a glass of cranberry juice, "Dáinsleif was on the floor."
"Again? But just a while ago I put him back on your bed."
She blinks—it shouldn't be that surprising, since Mrs. Tsubasa checks on her every night, but it's… out of the ordinary for her, this whole "two parents" thing. she hasn't really thought much about it.
"Do you want to help me make breakfast while we wait for Tsubasa?"
Mrs. Maria sets aside her coffee and newspaper and goes to the cupboards.
Watching Mrs. Maria pull some kitchenware out, she sips at her juice; the cranberry's sharp taste makes her shudder, but it's just the push she needs to say, "O-okay," and join Mrs. Maria at the counter.
Eggs, a fresh block of cheddar cheese, a bundle of parsley, sliced ham, and spinach join the cutting board and bowls on the kitchen counter.
"Do you want pancakes?" Mrs. Maria asks as she cracks eggs.
"Yes, please."
"Then, could you get the pancake mix, butter, and a large mixing bowl?"
While Elfnein gets the stuff for the pancakes, Mrs. Maria dices up the ham, parsley, and spinach—the eggs are already whisked by the time Elfnein's done.
It makes her pause.
Papa had been terrible at cooking, and Carol hadn't liked to be watched while she was working, and she'd never been in the kitchens at the orphanage, so she can't help it if she stares every time Mrs. Tsubasa and Mrs. Maria cook—it's fascinating.
"Could you grate the cheese, please? Just a nice pile, and be careful with your fingers," Mrs. Maria adds, moving on to get the pancake batter together.
Grater in one hand and cheese in the other, she stands on the stool to reach the top of the counter (she can't wait until she grows tall enough to not need it). Carefully, slowly, she shaves a little bit of cheese off the top.
The curls fall onto the plate, sticking to each other. She peeks at Mrs. Maria when she hears sizzling—Mrs. Maria pours batter into the pan directly from the mixing bowl.
Mrs. Tsubasa does it differently: measuring cups, teaspoons and tablespoons, half-mumbled instructions that Mrs. Tsubasa repeats over and over again.
"Pancakes are pretty easy to make," Mrs. Maria remarks, catching her gaze.
By now there's a sizeable heap of grated cheese, which she thinks is enough, so she asks, "W-what n-next?"
Flipping the pancakes and patting them with the spatula, Mrs. Maria says, "Now I'll teach you how to make an omelet!"
"E-eh?"
Mrs. Maria grins.
a/n:
Lol, posting something about breakfast when it's nearly bedtime for me... what a disparity. Also, why do I keep writing about sleep? Because I'm tired.
Please review!
