Much like Tailtiu, Claud was not much of a cook.
For all the ways they were different, they were both nobles. She remembered her rules for teatime (Lex cared little for etiquette, mostly to her relief, sometimes to her horror; Azel knew the expectations clearly but grew up casually, willing to spread jam on her biscuits), but House Friege's servants saw to their meals, from the cooks to her the governesses she and her sister shared. Set loose in a kitchen, she wouldn't know where to go. She knew nothing about Claud's childhood, but the awkward way his long, normally graceful fingers handled an equally graceful sugar spoon.
Without the Silessians' great hospitality, they'd be doomed.
"Claud," she laughed. They sat close enough that she could kick him, but she would never do such a thing.
"In Edda, our spoons are shorter."
Strangely defeatist for the priest. "Isn't life always evolving? One form to the next?"
Claud's soft brow furrow, tilting his head, blond hair falling differently over his shoulders. "I knew you listened."
Tailtiu grinned, warm under her nose and through her cheeks. "I always do. You talk enough." Being away from Friege had its perks and its downsides, but whatever tea Sailane offered was… not to her taste. "What would you do if you didn't have servants to cook for you?"
"Will priests no longer prepare my meals, either?"
"Hm… no." Claud reclined in his seat. Muted sunlight streamed in through the open windows. A… man.
Sighing dramatically, shoulders slumped, "Between starving and learning to cook, I like to think I choose the latter."
"Claud! You think ?" Claud was a man, but not one who could skip many meals. "I guess we'll have to learn together."
"Together?" he echoed.
"Well, yeah? Where would you go that I wouldn't?"