Valentines: III
What was Verndari to do at this time?
"A day in which close friends are provided with gifts?"
Such days were not unfamiliar to her, she was long since aware of them but there had rarely been a moment in which she had done anything of the sort, even contemplated such a thing before in her life.
There had been some occasions in which she had done so, that much she knew of, but it had been for the benefit of her parents alone. Not even Ser Raime - much as she respected him - had managed to gain any sort of gift from her. Though that was mostly on account of her not knowing anything of the sort to get the knight.
Rather, there never seemed to be a need for it.
She could not think of getting him anything that would really be worthy of his station.
Yet now she found herself at a crossroads.
Her thoughts drifted towards a certain individual on this day and felt it would have been wrong to allow the day to pass her by without at least showing something to prove that she did value them as an ally.
Perhaps even a friend.
Most certainly a friend.
Verndari had no talent for baking.
She had little talent for cookery in general and the one time she had made the attempt had ended rather sourly for all those who tasted the food.
Thus she did not want to insult or even poison Gareth with her cooking, which meant that she would need to find something else that she could provide the knight that would be something valuable for them. Something that would show she did care for them as an ally and would also be within her ability to create.
By her understanding, the day was still half a week, perhaps more or perhaps less.
And yet…hmmm.
With arms folded over her chest, she marched through the halls of Chaldea with her mind barely focused upon her surroundings. Instead her thoughts drifted towards what would be suitable to present to Sir Gareth as proof of their friendship. She wanted them to have something that they could use more than once and that she was familiar enough with.
But what could she grant them that they would not already have?
"Good morning, Ser Verndari."
She paused and looked up, noting the approach of the Lordkin Nudd with his silver arm raised in greeting.
With a polite nod back towards the God, she straightened herself.
Even if she was not one of the clerics like Ser Velstadt, Nudd was still a King and deserve respect for that title alone. She remained stood, swiftly bringing her arms back down to her side and standing to attention as the God drew closer to her.
"Good 'morrow, Lord Nudd." Her greeting back earned a slight falter from the man, but it was a brief thing as he approached closer, then came to a stop before her. With a brow raised behind her helm, she inclined her head towards the man. "Was there something that you required assistance with?"
"That was to be my question." He answered, one hand on his hip while the other waved to her. "I spotted you and you appeared to be deep in thought. I had called out to you in the hope that what concerned you was possible for me to provide some clarity upon."
Ah.
She had not realised her concern had been so transparent, even through armour.
Internally, she smacked herself for showing such a careless display that anyone could have spotted it. Thankful for the helm, else the Lordkin would have seen the scowl she wore upon her lips and perhaps would have found themselves under the mistaken belief it was aimed for them, and not for herself.
"Your concern is noted, but unnecessary." She replied with confidence she did not quite feel within her. She was fretting over something so trivial like a maiden on the morning of a dance. This was precisely the sort of thing that she had wanted to avoid.
"Is that so? Very well then, I shall pry no further." Nudd replied with a nod of the head, seemingly dropping the subject entirely.
That was welcome for her, she bore the man no ill-will but-
"I hear it is to be a special day soon."
Her mind ground to a halt. "Is that so?"
"Mmmmh." With a small but soft smile, the man nodded his head up and down. "A day for celebrating bonds forged with friends and the like. Used by lovers, but I see no reason why friends cannot do the same…I plan on making a fishing rod for Setanta, I'm certain that he shall eventually come to use it…perhaps the boy Ash as well, he showed an interest in fishing when I mentioned it to him last."
It was a low mutter, Nudd brought his right hand up and scratched back and forth along his chin, a flicker of thought in his eyes before it was quickly washed away with a flash of confidence.
"I suppose I shall be in for a busy enough time with the coming days." He announced with a chuckle, lowering the hand back down to his die.
Verndari, however, was more focused on the words the man had used.
Less towards the fact he was making fishing poles for some, but the fact he was giving them something otherwise trivial but could also be used more than once. It was a polite enough gesture that appealed to their interests and could be used.
Her mind whirled with thoughts.
Then they settled on something.
The smith in Chaldea, Andre, she could go to him for this gift.
Not to requisition, but to learn under him of how she could make it.
Perhaps there had been some aid in speaking with Nudd after all.
"I wish you fortune with that venture, Lord Nudd." She spoke, this time with greater confidence. Though she hoped she was not allowing her sudden revelation to bleed into her words, perhaps she did or perhaps she did not.
The God raised a brow at her for a moment and she thought he might ask her something, but the seconds ticked by without a question to follow the gesture, then the brow lowered back down and Nudd provided her with a single nod of the head. A twitch of his lip upwards and then he resumed speaking.
"Thank you for your blessing, Ser Verndari." He gave a nod back to her. "I can only hope that my crafts are truly up to snuff, so to speak. It has been quite a while since I did much of this sort of thing and building was always the skill of Dian Cecht…and I would prefer to build something of greater skill than him, all things considered."
For a moment, Verndari could have sworn the God looked sheepish, but whatever that emotion in his eyes was, it quickly faded and the levity entered it once more.
"I shall keep you no longer, but I wish you good fortune as well." He moved past her, speaking as he did so. "I hope that whatever it is that ails you is quickly cured, I would hate to think this Valentines would pass you by as you were troubled with something."
"Worry not, Lord Nudd." Turning, she called after him. "I will not allow my mind to dwell on troubles for long."
And it had not been long at all.
The arrival of Nudd and his words have proven rather beneficial, for now she knew exactly what she was to do.
It folded in on itself, his fingers hovered just above the body before they dropped down to his side.
Eyes lingered on the remains for a few moments before he moved the hand back up, his fist clenched around the ruins of the clay body and crushed it between his fingers. Slumping down on his chair and rolling his jaw from side to side.
He was no stranger to failures, but at least he had made some small progress with those.
At current, he was approaching two-hundred and thirty-seven failures in regards to making even a simple tea cup. There was nothing overly complex about the design of it and yet time and time again he was being met with a catastrophic failure over the smallest of movements with his hands.
His eyes moved upwards towards the other in the room.
Her gaze remained blank, there was neither judgement nor mockery within it.
"I think you might be getting closer." Da Vinci spoke without sarcasm. "That one lasted a few seconds longer than your previous attempts. You're just putting a little bit too much weight into your movements. You need to caress the clay, make it want to form the shape you're aiming for, rather than to force it."
Giving a small huff at her words, he returned his focus to the spinning table and placed the clay back upon it. Letting it spin once more as he dipped his hands into the water and moved them to the shape.
"I will say that I'm impressed by your perseverance. Most would have just given up by now."
"I have set my mind to the task." He answered. "I will not rest until it has been completed."
Even if it took him every single hour of every single day until it was actually Valentine's day.
Da Vinci chortled a little, he removed his hands and sent her a small look. Evidently she had guessed his true thoughts from something of his interaction because she looked far more amused than she had been previously. His eyes lingered on her for but a few moments longer, then they returned to the clay as he resumed his focus.
Hands circled around the shape.
His thumbs slowly moved down and inwards, hollowing out the interior and drawing the lip of the cup thin.
He stopped and then pulled his hands out, staring at it for a few moments and rolling his jaw from side to side. The spin of the table slowed to a crawl before it finally ended, his wet hands dropped back down to his side as he leaned forwards. Eyes running along the surface of the simple cup and giving it a once over.
It was only when the shadow fell over him that he realised Da Vinci had moved to stand beside him, leaning forwards and cupping her chin with a glint in her eyes. Her body lowered, a long hum rippled in the back of her throat as she looked over what he had spent the better part of several hours making.
When she did speak, her words were laced with both mirth and pride.
"Given you spend your time swinging swords and punching things, you've done quite well so far. A bit heavy handed in places…but not bad for a first attempt, I must say."
Not bad.
Not bad.
Ash stared at the cup.
Then he crushed it between his hands once more.
Da Vinci sent him a rather shocked look, jerking back and staring at him in naked surprise.
He ignored her and started the table up once again, spinning the clay around and resuming his actions as he had done hundreds of times before.
"Oh, I see."
A low mutter from the Caster caught his ear, but she said very little and stepped away from him. There was something else in her words that stuck out to him, but he paid them very little focus and continued his work. Repeating the same motions he had done so again and again.
"You know the next hundred could be more failures, right?"
"I know."
"...I didn't realise I was dealing with someone who had the pride of an artist-"
"Pride?" He paused, letting the word bounce around within him before shaking his head. Pride was not something he would have attributed to himself. "Were this for me, I would have been content with a passing performance. Though it is not for me and others have different expectations…rather…perhaps it is because it is made for another that I am willing to put in additional effort."
There was a creak of wood, Da Vinci lowered herself onto a nearby stool and crossed her legs over, resting her chin upon a propped up arm. "Oh? That can still be called professional pride."
Even if she said as much, he did not feel pride.
Rather…
"...Are gifts not supposed to be perfect?"
"They can be." Da Vinci agreed, a single nod of the head. "But when you say it like that, it sounds as though you're missing the point. Perfection is a consequence, not a goal…and ultimately, everyone has a different interpretation of what perfect is."
Ash glanced at her. "I speak of structural perfection."
"I suppose there is that." She agreed, waving a hand to him. "But what matters most about a gift is that it is coming from the heart. So long as you can feel the love and passion within the maker, then you should be able to ignore the little imperfections. Though some would certainly say that they add towards the charm of it all."
…Passion or love within the design?
Ash looked at the cup long and hard.
"Does something about my words confuse you?" The voice of Da Vinci came again. "You look as though I've just told you something a bit complicated."
She had, but clearly she didn't realise that.
Or maybe she had and was just mocking him.
"Is passion that important?"
Silence greeted his words.
When he brought his head up to look at Da Vinci, he was struck by how hostile her expression had gone. It wasn't immediately obvious, the placid smile on her face had remained rather unchanged. But it was her eyes that revealed the fury she was clearly feeling at the moment. Combined with the true bloodlust that she was releasing into the room, he was sure that she would launch herself at him any second.
Fortunately, she did not.
The fury abated and the murderous aura simmered away into nothing.
"You cannot call it a gift if there isn't passion." She answered with a quiet tone, then rolled her eyes and huffed. "Alright, that is an exaggeration. You could still call it a gift through the definition, but that's just empty words. A hollow definition. A real gift has some love thrown in there."
"...Love?"
With a wide smile, she leaned forwards and pointed towards his face. "Love. The sort that is felt when you bestow a gift onto another. Where there is no need for words to get across your appreciation for them, as your work does it all for you. That is what it means to give someone a gift."
He did not understand.
He was giving Nobunaga something that she had expressed an interest in and was making it with his own hands rather than having another make it.
What more did he need to do by this point?
Rather, he was only making it with his hands because it was expected of him.
If he was going to give something to someone, then it should be something that he made rather than something he found or had another make. Perhaps if it had been another day, he would have asked Da Vinci to create it, but this was Valentine's day and everything he knew about it told him that it was only proper that he make the gift.
So what was he missing?
"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
Ash could only nod his head in silence at her words.
There was a sigh, short but weighty. "I suppose I should have expected that, you're not used to this sort of thing. Not in a real way, at least…hmmm…Then again, sometimes people need to go through it to really understand. Explaining love is something that no one can ever really do."
That was disappointing.
He had hoped to get a straight answer.
"But I think you're putting too much focus on the angle of perfection." She continued onwards. "But I've never had to worry about such a thing before."
"How fortunate of you."
A light huff of mirth from the Caster as she rose up from her seated position and moved around the room once more. "Have you given much thought to what sort of design the cups and kettle are going to have? Or will it just be plain tea colours?"
He paused for a moment, then continued work.
"They are a gift for Nobunaga…so I was going to put the emblem of the clan upon them."
There was a small shuffle, he rose his head as Da Vinci turned towards him with brows raised up her forehead, there was that glimmer of pride in her eyes again before putting on a smile. Her hands fell upon her hips and her brows lowered themselves, with a soft chuckle she nodded her head up and down in approval.
"Alright, that can be quite heartfelt, even if your heart doesn't seem to be in it all that much…or maybe it is and you don't quite realise it just yet?"
Removing his hands from the cup, he looked at it for a few moments, then shot a look towards the Caster.
She spared the cup a single glimpse before darting her eyes to him.
"What would you do if I were to say it was perfect?" The sudden inquiry brought a raised brow from him.
"Then I would assume it was perfect and move on to the next one."
"And what if I was lying?"
He gave a slow blink. "Why would you do that?"
With a shrug, she paced around the room. "Perhaps I'm just eager to see you complete this? I might be tired of having you in my workshop and want you to leave as soon as possible? Or maybe I am trying to prove a point by saying that if you can't tell one way or another, why does it matter for anyone else?"
She turned back towards him, a pointed look on her face.
"These are not for me, so why does my opinion matter?"
Ash answered without hesitation. "You are the artist between the two of us. I am asking for an objective assessment…and I do not believe you would lie over something like this."
Da Vinci held his gaze for a few seconds, then snorted. "No, I suppose I would not. Again, it's not bad."
He nodded, then moved to destroy it and start again.
"Do you suppose Nobunaga would care?"
"...I would." He replied with a frown. "It would unsettle me."
Da Vinci made a small noise at his words, her pacing came to a halt and her head shifted, pursing his lips. "Well, to each their own. I'll be sure to let you know when it's structurally perfect. Though I hope you won't start smashing them if you get the emblem wrong on the cups. Otherwise I really will kick you out."
He believed her.
"I intended to practice on parchment before working on the final design."
"That's smart." She answered with a shrug, then went back to whatever had previously occupied her time as he went back to his own work.
Ash kept silent and resumed his work, even as he heard the door open once more behind him and someone enter the room.
"How are things going in here?" Ritsuka's voice came next, then the steps grew louder as the boy approached him from the left, though still standing behind him. "That's looking pretty alright so far. I was never much good at pottery."
"Did you ever try?" Da Vinci asked with a hint of mirth.
The silence of Ritsuka was answer enough.
"You should give it a go when you get the opportunity."
"You're only saying that because you're an artist." Ritsuka answered with no real heat, he stepped around Ash and towards the Caster with arms folded. "I could tell you that I was never good at painting and you'd probably hand me a brush set."
Da Vinci perked up. "Well, yes, but your wording implies that you are good at painting."
"I'm passable." Stressing the word, Ritsuka held up his hands before lowering them. "And has it just been you two in here? I'd have thought there might have been a couple of others popping in and out for varying reasons."
"Oh~ And why would you think that?"
Ash looked up at the question, Da Vinci had a point.
Why would she have been expecting more visitors at this time rather than any other time?
Ritsuka looked oddly at her before he continued. "Well, it is close to Valentine's day and pretty much everyone else has been in a rush to do something. I mean, they haven't said anything but I've spotted Marie and Nero busying themselves away…I did ask Nero and she just told me to wait and see with this giddy expression."
Da Vinci rolled her eyes at that, clearly finding something amusing. "And Marie?"
With a shrug, Ritsuka turned his head. "She answered much the same but also made me promise to not tell the Director she was doing anything. So I've got the impression that someone is going to have a very busy Valentines day…"
Within moments, both Da Vinci and Ritsuka were mirroring one anothers smiles.
Ash, meanwhile, realised something.
Then he grimaced.
"It never occurred to me to make anything for Olga."
He had not meant to say it aloud, but he had done so all the same. Within moments, both Da Vinci and Ritsuka had turned their heads to look at him. Hints of surprise lasted mere moments before the two of them wore understanding expressions. Though the former could be seen more for the latter, her head nodded down to the tea set.
"You appear to have your hands full with that already. If you start looking for perfection in everything you do, you'll be looking for a long time."
Ash wanted to retort to that, but no words came to mind.
Instead he grimaced and looked down.
The words of Da Vinci rang true, the time of the tea set was already looking to cut close to the day of Valentines. Now he needed to concern himself with gifts for both Olga and Ritsuka as well, Mash too at this rate. It was hardly as though he could ignore them now that he had come to consider them.
Much the same as with Romani, the man required something for his aid and it was expected of him to provide something to his allies.
That was the right thing to do.
He paused.
Ritsuka had been practising Archery as a hobby, perhaps he could have a bow made for the boy? Yes, that would be suitable and was something that Ash was much more familiar with. He was certain that Ritsuka would appreciate it all the same as well.
Yes.
Ritsuka would get a bow from him.
And Mash would get…
…What did Mash even like?
What did Mash hate?
He knew next to nothing about her.
Much as with Olga.
Romani liked food, that had been apparent.
And he had liked female sorcerers, that was similarly known to him. As well as whomever this Magi Mari individual was, but that remained the extent of his knowledge towards them.
What did they like? What did they dislike? What were their thoughts for this holiday?
"To be honest, I've been having a blank on what to give the Director as well."
The words of Ritsuka pulled him from his trance, his eyes flickered to the dark haired boy as he gestured to himself. His focus shifting between Ash and Da Vinci with a hint of guilt on his face.
"I was going to head into the kitchens and bake up some cookies for everyone along with Siegward, but I get the feeling that the Director would…I mean, I know she would appreciate them, but I feel like I should give her something a bit more than some cookies. Though I've been drawing a blank on it."
Da Vinci, for whatever reason, started to smile a bit brighter after that.
"Perhaps you should pay a visit with Berserker." She spoke, an odd warmth in her words. "There is nothing to say that a Valentines gift cannot come from two people at the same time, after all."
Ritsuka was silent after that, then his eyes widened and looked to Da Vinci with fresh surprise before his face grew resolute, his head nodded once as he looked back towards Ash and opened his mouth to speak, then paused and gathered himself.
"I'll ask Berserker if we can team up for the Director, do you want to join in as well?"
Did he want to?
He was expected to.
"I do not yet know how long this shall take to complete and I would…prefer not to be distracted away from it." He answered instead, keeping his voice flat as he continued work on his cup. There was a slight pause after his words before he spoke further. "I would not wish to keep you and Berserker waiting on my arrival when it is not a guarantee."
He would think of something, that much he knew of.
He just needed the time for it, and he could not divide his attention between one gift and the other.
Ritsuka nodded his head in the corner of his gaze. "Alright then, good luck with your tea set, Ash. I think it's going well. I'll see you later, Da Vinci."
And with that, Ritsuka departed the room and left them alone.
It was not even a few moments later before Ash spoke up.
"You have known Mash some time, yes?"
He could feel the weight of Da Vinci's stare on the side of his head, then she nodded silently.
"...Do you have some idea as to where her inclinations lie? Her enjoyments?"
"Thinking of giving her a valentines present now?" A chuckle from the Caster, there was a teasing lit in her voice. "Careful now, Roman would get the wrong idea if he heard you asking about that."
Ash looked at her, unblinking.
With a weary sigh, Da Vinci wore a pout and folded her arms. "You're not all that fun to tease, you know?"
What was he to say as a response to that?
Nothing sprang to mind, thus he returned his attention to the clay and ignored the Caster.
If she was not going to answer his question-
"She likes to read."
He paused for a moment at her words, saying nothing but inclining his head towards the voice of the woman.
"She's rather enamoured with it, a lot of mystery books." Continuing onwards, Da Vinci gave a light chuckle. "Those are her favourite. The Sherlock Holmes books, same with some history books as well. Anything she could get her hands on in regards to the world…It makes sense when you realise she hasn't been out all that much but that's what she likes."
Ash kept silent.
Perhaps if he had the same ability to read, he would have done the same.
Pity.
"I do not know how to grant a gift to a girl who can do what I cannot." He replied with a grunt, feeling a swell of disappointment form up within him.
Disappointment and anger.
It was a flash of a thing inside of him, white hot and aimed solely towards himself, then it simmered away into nothing. He felt cold once again.
"Mash would appreciate anything you gave her."
"Perhaps." He answered, raising his head to meet the eyes of Da Vinci. "But how often would she use it?"
There was a softness in the eyes of the woman as she paced towards him, coming to a stop and folding her arms. Her eyes held no judgement nor disapproval, merely a trace of something inside of them that he could not place. They stared at one another for moments, stretching on.
"...How about a bookmark?"
Ash did not blink, but there was the urge to.
Instead he furrowed his brows and turned his fully on the woman, "A…bookmark?"
She nodded her head, elaborating after a moment. "It's a small little patterned item that someone had to remember their place in a book. You put it between the pages so you never lose track of where you had gotten up to."
With a shrug, she turned about and strode to the other side of the room. "Rather, that is just a suggestion. You shouldn't feel compelled to do it…but if you want something that Mash would use again and again…"
Her words trailed off, but the answer hung in the air as though it had been spoken.
Ash pondered the suggestion.
He would have preferred to come to the conclusion himself, but he had no idea what Mash did and did not like. Asking her would have been out of the question because it doubtless would have tipped her off and he didn't know her quite as well as he knew Nobunaga, he wasn't sure they had shared a proper conversation in quite a while.
…A bookmark?
"...Do you have any to-"
He brought his head up and stopped speaking, staring blankly at the strips of fabric, parchment and some manner of wood held in the hands of Da Vinci. Both her lips and her eyes dancing with mirth, having clearly come to the answer before he could actually say anything.
He did not reach out for them, on account of his hands being covered in clay, but he studied the designs.
His head nodded up and down.
"I'll just leave these over here for you." The Caster spoke, moving to place them down on the small stool where she had been initially sitting. Giving them a light tap before striding away. "Now then, I'll be here to check on your progress with the clay cups, but I might need to pop out every now and again…try not to break anything in the time that I am gone."
"I had intended to wait for you to return during such times."
That got her to pause, then she turned back and looked down at him with a raised brow. "You mean you'd have just sat there in silence and watched the clay dry?"
"...Yes."
"...I'm not even sure why I'm surprised at that."
Neither was he.
Mash didn't know that much about chocolate.
Hence why she was consulting the books of Chaldea, but even that didn't translate all that well between the two of them.
"This is a rather troublesome thing."
Her eyes turned to the Gwynevere, the low mutter of the Goddess had barely caught her ears. Mash had opened her mouth to ask what the problem was, but her words died on the tip of her tongue as she watched the Goddess step closer towards her.
Gwynevere was not looking at her, instead she was fiddling around the apron that she was attempting to put on.
Attempting being the optimal word.
On account of her stature, the Goddess was quite a bit far removed from what had been expected for the sort of person who would normally have worn the apron. Which meant that tying it up around the back was proving to be a bit of a challenge.
But it wasn't truly the problem of the waist of the Goddess.
It was something else.
Mash rolled her lips inwards and immediately turned her head, fighting back the heat that had otherwise been creeping up her cheeks as she had glimpsed the sight.
That being the chest of the Goddess being too expansive to actually let her wear the apron properly, now she was aware of it, the sound of straining fabric was like an alarm in her ears. The protests of the cloth making as it was stretched far beyond what it was comfortable with, the thought that any second now, she would hear ripping sound danced away in her head.
With a quick breath, she shook her head and turned back to the Goddess, still fumbling with a rather irritated frown on her face.
Mash stepped forwards and raised her hand towards the taller woman. "Gwynevere-san, do you need some help?"
Golden eyes flickered upwards, then the Goddess shot her a thankful smile and nodded her head, her arms releasing the straps at the back and letting them flop down to the side. Mash approached and came around behind the Goddess, taking the straps and pulling them across.
She paused when the sound of straining fabric reached her ears once more.
"It's not too tight, is it?"
"Your concern is appreciated, but you worry over nothing." Gwynevere replied smoothly, there was no disguising the amusement in her words. "I've worn tighter gowns than this in my life and they never once tore themselves asunder…but they were made for my form, I suppose this was designed with the body of a pygmy in mind."
Mash could only nod her head, not that the Goddess could see.
"We don't really get people as tall as you, Gwynevere-san." She answered, pulling the straps across and giving a light frown. Though they did reach one another, the length of the spare strap wasn't quite what she had hoped it would be, though it would form together at least.
With a greater tug, she pulled them together and tied it across, with one final tug the knot was completed and she stepped back. Watching for several tense seconds to see if the join would hold or if it would come undone.
When nothing happened, Mash allowed herself to release a breath she did not know she had been holding.
Once satisfied that the apron was not going to fly away, the girl stepped back around to the front of the Goddess, soon finding herself faced with the beaming face of the taller woman, who then reached a hand down and patted Mash twice on the left shoulder as thanks.
Her eyes flickered towards the book they had brought with them, stepping forwards and flicking up the sleeves of her dress without even touching them, they held themselves there with no real contact with anything, Mash supposed it was some sort of magical influence of the Goddess.
"Have you done something like this before, Gwynevere-san?"
It was something that tickled at her mind when she had heard the offer of the Goddess, whether or not she had any interactions with kitchens in the past. She would have assumed no, both on account of Gwynevere being a Queen and a Goddess as well. Even before her ascension to a throne, she would have still been a princess.
Mash was sure it wasn't common for Princesses or Queens to frequent kitchens.
Gwynevere turned her head and looked down, a thoughtful expression briefly crossed her face before it was replaced with a smile. "Perhaps once more twice in my more…rebellious youth. Sneaking away into the kitchens while eyes were elsewhere. It was a far easier thing back then…"
Not hiding her surprise, Mash blinked as she looked up at the woman.
A low laugh from Gwynevere came next, the woman gestured to herself. "Yes, I suppose I would not have looked it. I will defend myself and say rarely was it my idea, often such notions were born of my younger siblings. Filianore and Gwyndolin both, though it hardly often would you find it being a case of the latter."
Mash recalled Filianore briefly, then tilted her head.
The idea of the diminutive Goddess charging into the kitchens - or sneaking being the more apt word - did not strike her as being surprising. But that was born of first impressions with the Goddess and they had been a bit…Mash did not want to say immature, perhaps free-spirited would have been a better word.
"I see." She hummed, nodding her head along with the words. "But have you tried this sort of thing before? Baking, I mean."
Gwynevere remained silent for a couple of seconds.
When her words came, they were slow and measured.
"I do not see where the great challenge would come from." There was a rich confidence in her voice that almost convinced Mash to side with her that there would be no problem. "If it was possible for the servants of Anor Londo and other lands to master it - if the undead who walks these kitchens without the capacity for taste can master it - then I do not see why I would be an exception."
Mash felt an odd sense of foreboding but quickly buried it.
Her hands clenched into fists, bringing them up and holding them close to her chest.
With a resolute nod of the head, she found herself drawn by the words of Gwynevere and the aura she let out.
"I'm sure that we can persevere through this either way, Gwynevere-san."
The Goddess let out a smooth laugh, sweet like honey. "With a determination such as yours, Mash-senpai, I have every confidence that we shall see it finished within the first attempt. Though, for now, perhaps we should make an effort into it."
Mash tightened her face, then moved for the book and leaned over it, the shadow of Gwynevere fell over herself and the book, the pair of them soon reading from the pages.
She had decided to make a small cake.
Mainly because they could not make chocolate from scratch without cocoa beans and, unfortunately, Chaldea did not have any of those. Nor did she think it was really appropriate to warrant a trip into South America just so they could swipe some of the cocoa plants for that purpose alone.
Regardless, with herself and Gwynevere working together on this, she was sure it would go well.
The desire for the earth to open up and swallow her whole was not something she was accustomed to.
But she was sure that this was it.
Her eyes remained fixed upon the ground, raising them up was something that she dared not do.
The sound of footsteps in front of her, the steel lined boots against the cold metal floor, was like the drums sounding her doom. Each one went off with the force of a canon, having her flinch with each step.
She was not sure how Gwynevere was handling it, but she was certain it was not very well.
Her curiosity got the better of her, slowly her eyes turned to the right and raised themselves up. Greeted by the sight of the Goddess sitting beside her, hair dropped down to cover her face and eyes blank, lips were pulled tight and there was no hiding the fists that had been formed, currently resting on the lap of the tall woman.
It might have been on account of the mixture which was stained across the front of her apron…
…and in her hair.
Mash was sure she was no better, still certain there were traces of the mixture on her glasses that she hadn't managed to get.
And despite her best efforts, there was still some eggshell under her fingernails.
The long and weary sigh had her flinch, her eyes shot back to the floor as the footsteps drew closer and closer. It was not until she could see them in the periphery of her vision that she dared to do anything. Slowly but surely, her gaze pulled itself upwards and past the black trousers of the man.
Moving over the darkened combat vest and finally settling on the tanned face that looked down at her, toned arms folded over and an expression devoid of emotion in the face of the Archer.
Steel grey eyes looked at her, then towards the Goddess for a few seconds before back towards her.
Archer said nothing, he had said nothing since he arrived.
That was perhaps the worst part about it.
He stepped backwards and then turned around, Mash managed to keep herself from flinching as Boudica appeared from further within the kitchen, nursing her brows as if she had been struck with a large headache.
"We've scraped the last of it off the lights." Were the first words from the exasperated Rider. "But I think they managed to lose half an egg down the side of the countertop. Someone probably slipped in it-"
Mash saw Gwynevere flinch out of the corner of her eye but said nothing, it seemed none but her noticed it.
"-and the dropped flour ended up in half of the stacked pans. It could have been worse, the sugar didn't burn that badly at least."
The recipe hadn't even called for them to cook sugar like that.
But the suggestion of including caramel had seemed to be an appealing one and she knew it to be melted sugar, and one thing had led to another. It wasn't until the sugar had turned black and looked to be more akin to tar that she and Gwynevere had been left with the impression that something was wrong.
And then the smell hit and that couldn't be disguised.
"...Alright."
The first words from Archer were delivered with all the strength of a man rising from a coma.
"I'll be there to help you out in a moment." Mash could feel the stare at the top of her head, her eyes raised and met steel grey once more.
Archer did not blink and for several seconds, neither did she.
Then she did and looked away.
Archer exhaled, bringing up a hand and rubbing away at his face for a few moments. "...This is not the worst disaster to have befallen a kitchen. Lest we forget the time that a certain someone decided to just grind up raw potatoes and call it food…"
There hadn't been a single person in Chaldea who hadn't heard of that.
"Or when he thought to cook by throwing fires at the worktop."
There had been that incident as well.
"But don't be mistaken for believing that this is somehow acceptable." He sounded more disappointed than angry, which might have made her feel a little worse. "What strikes me is that you have the recipe book right in front of you and I cannot, for the life of me, understand how you managed to mess up this badly."
Archer walks forwards, moving past her and towards the countertop where the book still resided.
"I can only assume that it was a mixture of overconfidence and unfamiliarity with the procedures…"
There had certainly been that, yes.
Gwynevere had never used an electric mixer before and had accidentally set it onto maximum.
…The result was far from pretty.
"...Sorry, Archer-san."
It was the only thing she could say, snapping her eyes to the back of his head and opening her mouth to say something. The words died on her lips when he turned around to face her, face still devoid of emotion.
What was she to say?
Ask him to give her another chance?
After this disaster, she wouldn't have been surprised if he outright banned them from the kitchens.
"I-I…Next time I-"
"Next time?"
Archer raised a slow brow.
She winced, biting her lower lip as she prepared herself for the expected punishment.
"You're still determined, are you?" Archer continued onwards, ignorant to her turmoil. "...Alright then."
She blinked, then straightened.
That wasn't what she had been expecting.
"Eh?"
Archer snorted as he stared at her, a wry smirk slowly forming on his lips. "What's with that expression? Do I truly strike you as the sort of heartless monster that would banish you from the kitchens so close to a certain day? I'm sorry to say that my heart isn't quite as black as you expect of me."
Mash felt herself flush. "Th-that wasn't what I was-that is to that say I-"
"Black hearted?" Gwynevere remarked with scoff, Mash turned to the Goddess as she stood up and flicked her hand.
The mess which had clung to her was whipped away from her body, figure turning as pristine as it had ever been.
"I would decry you as such, to mock the heart of a young maiden with such ease." Gwynevere continued onwards, aiming a narrowed gaze towards the tanned man. "Or perhaps, bowman, your eyes are not quite so keen? How else might one describe your ignorance to the girl who wears her heart as if it were a sleeve for her."
Mash winced and looked between the two of them for a couple of seconds.
Archer's smirk only seemed to grow at the words of the Goddess, a worrying outcome.
Before anything else could be said, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat.
The eyes of the trio turned on Boudica, the Rider stood with a fist before her mouth and a disapproving look on her face. Lowering the hand, she clapped hers together before speaking with a pointed expression.
"The kitchen is in dire enough state without anyone starting fights." Boudica turned her eyes onto Archer and frowned. "And I realise you have a certain brand of humour, but there is a time and a place for it. She was clearly guilty enough as it was without you throwing terror into the mix."
Archer gave an unashamed shrug of the shoulders. "I merely posed a question, she was the one with the mistaken opinions about me."
Boudica rolled her eyes, then she was crouching down in front of Mash before the girl really took notice of her.
With a gentle smile, Boudica took Mash's hands between her own and held them tight, acutely aware of the warmth within them and upon the face of the Rider, the gentle smile on her face and the reassurance in the deep blue eyes.
"Don't feel too bad. There have been plenty who have done worse for a first attempt and not everyone starts out as perfect."
Pulling a hand away, Boudica raised it up and rubbed her knuckle across Mash's cheek in a comforting manner.
"Don't think about how you're going to mess up, because then you probably will…and we're not about to throw you out because of one little series of mistakes. You'll have as much time as you need to, alright?"
Mash remained silent, but she gave a slow nod of the head and felt her shoulders drop a little. Relief coursed through her at the words of Boudica. The Rider smiled a bit brighter as she stood up and released Mash's hands, stepping backwards and turning her attention onto Gwynevere.
The smile slipped over her face so quickly Mash thought it had dropped onto the floor.
Where once there had been warmth, there was now only icy coldness.
The transition was so startling that Mash found herself frozen by the gaze that lacked any hint of kindness to it.
Just as quickly as it had been there, it vanished as Boudica looked to her.
"Myself and Archer will be nearby if you think you need the help. Don't hesitate to call out to either of us if you're in trouble."
A dry snort from Archer off at the side. "Be sure to shout loudly, my eyes aren't all that keen, I'm afraid."
Mash did not fail to notice the twitch of Gwynevere's brow.
Somehow this was turning into a more stressful situation than she would have hoped.
This wasn't going as Verndari expected it to go.
Her head turned left and right as she stared at the others who were sitting in the forge, most of whom had apparently come to the same idea as her.
"...So who are you giving the sword to?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Just curious."
Verndari debated for a moment whether or not to answer the man, then decided there would be little harm in it. So long as they did not openly speak of such things, her eyes lingered on them for a few moments before she spoke again.
"I assume you would not spread this news around like a tavern wench?"
The blue haired man tore his eyes away from the weapon he had been working on - a simple spear - and looked at her with a blank gaze for a few moments. Then gradually raised a brow as if in disbelief that she had even asked him that question.
"...Sir Gareth, if you must know."
"The little lass? Aye, could have guessed that." The Lancer muttered with a faint smirk on his lips, then went back to carving a small pattern into the spear just under the head.
She paid little attention to it, but there was something that she was a bit intrigued about.
"Who are you planning on giving the spear to?"
Cu Chulainn wasn't long in answering. "Master."
Verndari briefly paused, turning her head and raising a brow behind her helm. "Our Lord?"
"Aye." He answered without looking up. "He's almost a man now and doesn't have a spear or a sword of his own. I was younger than him when I killed my first man…Not that I'm expecting him to do the same but there's nothing wrong with a man owning a spear."
"Or a shield."
The other from across the room spoke, then came the hefty thuds of a hammer upon metal ringing out, the voice of the broad chested man came in the interval between each thud.
"For it was the nature-"
Thud.
"-of a Spartan warrior-"
Thud.
"-to come back with his shield-"
Thud.
"-or upon it!"
Another thud, then a reprieve as Leonidas raised a hand and wiped his brow clean, looking up and towards them.
"Besides, if the woman of snow white hair can train with the spear and the sword, then why should our own Master be exempt from such things? There might come a time when he has a Servant that works in a similar manner…Even if it does not, then there is always tranquillity to be found with mastering the way of the weapon."
Verndari could not fault him for that.
There was a decided lack of the humans of Chaldea mastering sword play, but they were sorcerers and scholars…then again, even the most book focused scholar knew how to throw a punch.
At least in her experience with the sort.
"Besides!" Leonidas gave a wide grin. "There is an opportunity for him and Kyrielight to bond over the shield! Nothing brings soldiers closer together like the battlefield, and if you cannot trust your shield brother, then whom can you trust?"
"Wise words." She found herself muttering as she turned to the forge, tongs gripped in her hand as she pulled the red hot metal from out of it. Frowning at the shape before she brought it down to the anvil and raised up her own hammer.
The strokes fell rather heavily, a bit clumsy as well.
All too aware of the silent vigil from the forgemaster who had been gracious enough to allow them entry.
"Eh, I'd rather go with a spear myself." Cu Chulainn spoke up. "Never met a woman who wasn't impressed by a man who could throw a spear far."
"I doubt that our Lord is going to use the spear to court maidens."
"Hmph. We'll see." Cu Chulainn remarked with a grunt, she assumed he would have shrugged his shoulders as well. "Though it's good for practice as well. Focuses the mind on something…Gets you nice and fit and all when you're swinging something about. Though it would be best if my teacher didn't see it…"
Verndari could only hum.
She'd heard much of this Scathach but had not seen much of her, by all accounts they were a warrior Queen of great skill. Perhaps even greater skill than the man she was in the room with at the moment as well, who himself was regarded as one of the greatest warriors in history.
She had not fought him, so she could not take measure of him herself.
But…perhaps it would be worth the time to spar with this Scathach to see what her skill was.
…There were few female warriors Verndari had met.
A hiss from the door, heads turned towards it.
Verndari froze.
The cloud of smoke took one step into the room and froze as well.
The bright red visor locked onto her and did not so much as move and inch.
"...arrrrr…." The growl from Sir Lancelot was far from threatening, perhaps one might have called disarming. Either way, with a loose posture and without a weapon, it was clear that he had not expected to find her here.
With no sign of her moving, Lancelot turned and marched towards Andre, pausing before the smith and giving a slight incline of the head before raising a hand and pointing towards the forge as well.
Andre could only scoff loudly.
"Go ahead." The man muttered, then brought up a hand and scratched his beard. "Seems as though everyone fancies themselves a smith as of late."
Lancelot turned without a noise, then marched towards the forge.
Not once did Verndari part her eyes from him.
Then Lancelot brought his helm up and stared at her, it was only a brief contact but it was enough for her to turn her head back down and ignore him. Focusing only on her work as she continued to hammer away at the sword, though this time with a touch more emotion in her swings.
She knew not what Lancelot was doing, but she did not bring herself to care.
Thinking only of what she was doing for Gareth, she ignored the knight and resumed her work.
Pointedly ignoring as Lancelot started to work on his own work beside her.