hadriel_logs | Give Us This Day...

Entry tags:

Give Us This Day...

Who: Glacius (

glacius) and Carlisle (

tongueamok).
What: Baking lessons!
Where: Glacius and Carlisle's apartment.
When: Forward-dated to the 10th of January or so.
Warnings: N/A, will update as the need arises.

It has been only a couple of days since the illusion of their shiny, clean, and perhaps most importantly open-skied city had dissipated, and it had been as difficult to go back to the dreary cave setting as Glacius had expected. Every now and then he would still find himself looking up... not an unusual habit for a being that hailed from the stars and longed for them every night, but one that had an especial impact when he was hoping against home that he might be lucky enough to catch even a glimpse of a sky. It wasn't to be, however... which meant that all that was left to him was to fall into old routines to try and make himself useful. The vacation was nice but there was work to be done--everyone was trying to keep themselves occupied in their own ways.

That included his roommate, it turned out, who had given the alien a list of things to keep an eye out for shortly after Hadriel had settled back to normal. Glacius didn't mind the added errand; he was happy for another distraction, especially if it would help his friend in some way. He'd procured everything that he could over the course of the past few days and was apparently going to find out what it all was for tonight, as Carlisle was busy partaking in a ritual from home when the icy being made his way back to the apartment just as the odd light of the cave was beginning to dim. He came in the door clad in his partial set of armor, which he'd taken to wearing in public or while staffed at the Guard's headquarters to conceal the wasted visage that the right side of his face had become, fears of what people might think upon seeing the ugly scars still lingering. The first thing Glacius noticed was the scent that was coming from the kitchen and filling the main room-- it was light, reminiscent of nuts or possibly grains... and very good, whatever it was.

"Carlisle? I have returned," the otherworldly being called out as he moved further into the apartment. His curiosity was piqued, and though he wasn't surprised to see Carlisle there, he was surprised to see the kitchen around him in quite a state. There was heat coming from one of the built-in appliances, various wooden utensils and tools set out beside him (neatly, the clergyman was almost always neat, apparently even in this endeavor), and some sort of white powdery substance coating the countertop before him. His religious vestments had been removed, leaving only his form-fitting base layers and some new sort of garment that tied around his waist and neck... Glacius wasn't sure what to make of any of it, but he was intensely interested. The towering alien came up on the other side of the counter as he removed his helmet and tucked it under one long arm, the better to look over everything again.

"You've been busy while I was out, it seems. Is this what you wanted all of those items that I have been bringing back for the past few days for? ...What is all of this, even?"

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"This," Carlisle started as he furiously stirred at the bowl on the counter, "is baking."

It was also the primary way Carlisle had taken to distracting himself for the duration of the false gods' latest illusion. Aside from his excursion with Glacius, he hadn't left the apartment, and had hardly left his room at all; instead, he'd made a list of ingredients and supplies, things he would need for when he was feeling well enough to brave the windows and the view outside. The alien had managed to procure most of those things, and with the illusion gone, it was time to get to work.

And by 'get to work,' he meant 'deal with the collected troubles of the past week or so in some way other than drinking.' He'd done plenty of that in his time alone.

"I don't know how much you know about break-making," he continued, looking at the consistency of the concoction in the bowl before dumping some of it onto the powdery counter, "but I've found kneading dough to be a fantastic way to vent one's frustrations."

"Baking," Glacius repeats, in a manner that should be a pretty good tell of exactly how little he knows about the practice. "... Right."

The otherworldly being goes quiet as he watches the clergyman stir the contents of the bowl with a fervor rarely seen... then blinks as he deposits a strange, blobby mass of.... something on the counter before him. The impact, gentle as it is, causes some of the loose powdery stuff on the counter to puff up into the air, and the alien coughs once before his nasal cap tucks flat against his skull to keep the strange substance out. Then he observes the pale mound with open confusion, tilting his head so far to one side it's almost comical. He has no idea what to make of it, but from the way Carlisle describes it, the process sounds therapeutic enough.

"Well... I am all for finding ways to ease tensions that don't involve you hitting the bottle quite so hard," the ice alien admits--not criticism so much as open concern, there. It was hard not to notice someone's habits when you roomed with them. "Are you... still out of sorts from the illusion?"

"A- a little," he admits, rubbing his hand at his neck, leaving a floury print on his dark undershirt. The way he averts his eyes and the crease in his brow say that might not be the entire truth. There's no wound on his neck anymore from his monthly feeding with Armand, but he cannot help but feel a little irritated with himself every time he meets the vampire in his garden. As clergy, he should be banishing the undead from the living realm, not providing him a steady meal.

At least his frustration there keeps him from focusing too much on Glacius' note about his drinking. Scooping up some flour from the counter, he rolls the dough into it, the blob sticking to his hands less and less the more powder that coats it. "I know you will miss the illusion of an open sky, but I'm grateful for things to return to how they were. Not being able to trust your own eyes is terrifying."

"I do miss it. But... it's better to exist in the real world," Glacius ultimately agrees. "One cannot indulge in false comforts for too long. In the end, we must find our own strength and make our own joy."

While the way Carlisle had dodged the question had not escaped him, he is currently none the wiser to his friend's monthly meetings. All he knows is that every now and then, the clergyman gets utterly worn down... but for now he's giving him the benefit of the doubt and just attributing it to his curse, which makes him reluctant to pry because he knows that can be sensitive territory. It's a luxury that the human likely won't be afforded forever once the otherworldly being starts to recognize a pattern, but for now, Glacius' adamant respect of other people's privacy is working to Carlisle's... well, maybe not to his favor given the nature of those meetings, but it's at least allowing his secret to endure for the time being.

"So what else is on your mind, friend? What has driven you to this... ehm... bread-kneading?" the ice alien asks, his eyes following the clergyman's hands back and forth, back and forth as he rolls the dough. "You already know I'm going to ask if there's anything I can do."

Carlisle flashes that nervous smile of his. "Perpetual seclusion from the gods' latest hallucination," he answers. It's partially true. "As for what you can do, you are welcome to help me with this, if you'd like."

He looks behind him to the oven. "I do apologize for the temperature in here. I'd thought I'd be finished by the time you returned."

"I can..?" Glacius blinks, unable to help the eager twitch of his mandible. As always, that causes the jagged bone of the missing one to rub against the inside of the wound, which makes the alien flinch and rub at his cheekbone--it's what he's fallen back on doing instead of rubbing at the damaged area itself. His enthusiasm hasn't suffered one bit despite the jolt of pain, however. "Yes, I-- I would like that. I'll ah... one moment."

He looks around quickly, then briefly steps out to the main room to remove the pieces of his armor so he can set them on the couch--though even the partial set is impressive, its various prongs are likely to only get in the way in this endeavor. Then he comes back and crosses over to the other side of the counter so that he can stand next to Carlisle, looking the clergyman over and doing his best to emulate his posture. It's as he's adjusting that his friend apologizes, and the ice alien just lifts one shoulder and tilts his head to that side briefly in the ice alien equivalent of a shrug.

"It is fine. My microweave will compensate for the raised temperatures, I just probably should not get too close. Anyways, I wanted to come back a little early tonight... I enjoy our time together." This he adds on in a slightly reserved fashion... though he figures that they've both adjusted to the knowledge of enjoying one another's company that he can just come out with it, he's still adjusting to being so open with the sentiment. Then Glacius returns his gaze to the dough, looking puzzled all over again. "So... how do I help?"

That apprehensive smile becomes something more authentic at Glacius' open sentiment. Despite his general preference for solitude, Carlisle has come to appreciate Glacius' company, as well as the concern the alien shows him at times. He's not quite as sure what to make of the latter, but the former, he is adjusting to. He has to, after all -- the alien worries openly about him, won't let him go undisturbed in his room, won't let him drink himself into a stupor. While Carlisle likes his privacy, even he has to admit that Glacius' interference is not necessarily a bad thing, given that things have... undeniably improved since they moved in together.

And Glacius isn't just keeping an eye on him for his safety, which is what it felt like with Kate and Faith, at times -- the alien actively wants to be in his company. Carlisle isn't used to that, either. It's taking time, but he's adjusting, little by little. It helps that the two of them have been in close contact more than a few times, given how the clergyman needed to tend to the alien's wounds.

Carlisle sets the doughy mass on the counter, his eyes flicking to Glacius' hands as he briefly wonders if the alien can wash them. "First things first is that you'll need to wash your hands, lest you get any contaminants that may be on your icy shell into the bread. The dough itself is a careful combination of ingredients, and you don't want to upset the balance of that, or, uh. End up with something in the bread that you wouldn't want to eat."

This suggestion doesn't earn any balking or confusion--hand washing is a familiar practice to Glacius, and though his people tend to use gel-based sanitizers, water and soap is a good enough stand by. The ice alien crosses over the sink, reaches for the comparatively small faucet handle... and then pauses and looks over his shoulder at Carlisle as something occurs to him.

"Ah... if I touch the dough with my icy skin, will that... affect it in any way?" He knows for a fact that freezing something can effect its composition, and while touching it here and there probably wouldn't be a problem, kneading suggests prolonged contact that could lead to more noticeable frosting over. Moreover, doesn't baking have to do with heat transfer? He doesn't want to ruin this somehow...

Carlisle opens his mouth for an immediate reply, then closes it, his brow knitting together. Though he'd considered contaminants, he hadn't even thought about how the chill of Glacius' hands may cause changes to the composition. While he's fairly certain the bread will be okay, it reminds him of why he is only an amateur alchemist, at best.

"Right," he says, scooping up the dough on the counter. "New plan. Better plan. Back into the bowl with this." He deposits the dough into the bowl, holds up a finger for Glacius to stay put, and beelines for his room. A moment later, he returns with a few leaves from one of his plants in hand: though green, they're covered with a white powder themselves, the substance almost lacy in how it weaves together to coat the leaves.

Sliding beside Glacius to use the sink himself, he washes his hands and the leaves in one go. "I don't expect they have frostloaf where you come from, but that's what we're making."

Glacius is left blinking as Carlisle swiftly departs for his bedroom, but the clergyman returns just as swiftly has he left. When he returns it's a handful of interesting-looking leaves... the ice alien recognizes them as being from one of the cleryman's plants from the occassional times he's watched or assisted his roommate with his garden, but the actual purpose of them escapes him. He's as interested as ever in learning, though, especially if it's something Carlisle has managed to carry over from his home world... plus, his people don't do a whole lot of gardening. This is all new to him, which makes him even more curious!

"No, I can't say that we do. I like the sound of it, though," the ice alien chuckles, scooting over a little bit to make room for Carlisle by the sink. "Is that... ah..." now his brows furrow as he fiercely scrounges through what all he remembers of everything the clergyman has taught him during their talks in the garden. He so badly wants to make a good impression, to show that he listens and cares about what his friend has to say. "... Is that the frostlace?"

Carlisle gives Glacius a look of mild surprise, but smiles soon after. "It- it is, actually." He knows he's mentioned it before and shown Glacius the various plants of his collection, but usually, he was just prattling on to fill the void in conversation; however, he can't help but be impressed that the alien cared enough to actually pay attention to what was what.

"Frostloaf only requires a few more ingredients than what I was making anyway, notably some crushed frostlace. You take these, and grind them up as best you can. I recommend using the mortar and, uh." He stops as he gestures to a small bowl on the far side of the counter. No, Glacius probably doesn't know what a mortal and pestle is. "That bowl over there with the knobby stick."

That mild surprise followed by gratification is the payoff Glacius was hoping for--he smiles as his friend does, listening with the same sort of attention he always displays as Carlisle continues to explain. It's a good thing the clergyman clarifies, because mortar and pestle are tools that are far too primitive for him to have ever heard of before... but the directions are clear, so the alien takes the washed leaves and begins to do as instructed. He has to be careful of how much force he applies... the blunt instrument feels small in his large hand and he doesn't want to break it, nor grind with too much strength and put cracks in the bowl. The ceramics clack quietly together as he works.

"So how does the frostlace affect the dough? I mean, aside from the cold-resistance... does it lend a particular taste or texture that you like?"

"It does add a bit of a crunch as well as a sweeter flavor," Carlisle explains as he adds a little more water to the dough in the bowl. "Though I'll admit I'm not sure that what I was making -- or the frostloaf, for that matter -- would taste the same as it does back home, given all these ingredients have been conjured by the false gods, and they seem to have, at best, a limited understanding on how such resources come to be in our own worlds."

He sighs. He's just hoping it's edible at this point. The exercise wasn't in making bread anyway, he reminds himself inwardly; it was in working through stress.

Edited 2017-01-07 00:10 (UTC)

"Oh..." Glacius slows in his grinding as he thinks on that. It had never even occurred to him to ask the false gods to give him something from his own world, and now that the idea has been put in his mind it causes a fierce surge of longing within him. It dissipates quickly, however, as Carlisle explains the limitations inherent in such dealings... it wouldn't be real. It wouldn't be the same. And he's better off not explaining a single thing about his culture to the depraved beings that oversee this city, even if it means he has to remain completely cut off from old, familiar comforts.

At least he's slowly finding new ones here. They're not replacements, but they do help combat the hearteache. The ice alien looks Carlisle over briefly, allows himself the smallest of smiles... then draws in a breath as he attempts to dispel some of that homesickness and resumes working on the frostlace. "Well, either way, I'm happy to be able to take part in a ritual from your world, to share in something important to you. All of that from mine, I have no longer... so it... it means a lot to me that you'd let me join you in this."

"Of course, Glacius," Carlisle assures him. "It's no trouble at all. I suppose you wouldn't have baked goods on a frozen world, though you must have some kind delectables, surely."

Though given the way Glacius eats -- and that is a very generous description of what it is he does -- maybe not.

"Baked goods? No," Glacius shakes his head, willing to talk about home even if he's hurting for it dearly right now. "I'm fairly certain I never even saw any of those imported to the homeworld... but then I suppose that isn't surprising, given how strict regulations on any foreign substances are. As for delectables... they can be found, though they're very rare, and certainly not a part of our usual diets."

And here comes confirmation on Carlisle's assumption: "You see, eating, ah... it's simply something that we do on the way to more important things, given that we don't taste. We usually don't waste a whole lot of time on flavor or presentation, but rather prefer foods that are practical-- portable, preservable, and rich in proteins and nutrients, that provide plenty of energy to our systems. There are some establishments that serve 'fancier' food items, and some councilors have developed particular tastes during off-world visits that they have imported to them on the homeworld... but outside of that... there's not much in the way of what you humans would consider a treat."

Carlisle gives Glacius a completely baffled look.

"Wait, I'm sorry. You don't taste? At all?"

Glacius is just as baffled by the baffled expression. "Uh... no?? I thought that was clear, I mean, I don't have a mouth, I liquefy things and then absorb the nutrients directly into my body..." the alien trails off and then tenses, suddenly afraid that he's put Carlisle off by explaining what is, to a human, a biological oddity. He struggles to compensate. "... B-but I do smell! Quite well, actually. So, um, there's that. Yes."

"I know you don't have a mouth, I just- I suppose I never really thought on it any time I've seen you do that little- that, ah."

He wiggles his fingers around in what is likely supposed to be a gesture meaning "when you absorb the nutrients directly into your body," but he could mean anything with a motion so vague. In his confusion, he catches onto Glacius' embarrassment a second too late.

"Nevermind. I didn't think about it, and perhaps I should have, but I suppose most times I've seen you with food, I was thinking about other things."

Wow, file this under ways he wasn't expecting the evening to go. Having attention drawn to how different he is from humanity is a way get him flustered on the best of days... feeling like an oddity combined with his surge of homesickness from earlier has the alien feeling absolutely rotten. He tenses, sets the mortar and pestle aside so not to damage it as his hands clench tightly into fists on the countertop.

"It's fine," he tries to reassure Carlisle despite it all, screaming himself down in his head not to take his grievances with his situation out on his friend. "You didn't know. How could you? It's not like there's anyone else around in this place like me."

Carlisle cringes as his eyes flick to Glacius' hands, the alien's tension manifesting into his fists. Though he knows by now that Glacius wouldn't take out any aggression on him -- unlike a certain green alien -- he cannot help that shiver that runs down his spine, nor how his own hands lace together.

"Glacius, I—" He sighs and leaves the flour he'd been gathering on the counter, taking a step closer to his friend's side. Feeling the beginnings of a headache, he paws at his eye, pushing his glasses askew for a moment and leaving another powdery streak across his face. "Cisth, I'm sorry. I just thought of all the things you haven't tasted or experienced, and was concerned with what you're missing. I didn't mean it like that."

Edited 2017-01-07 02:37 (UTC)

The towering alien turns immediately when he senses Carlisle coming up beside him, lowering his head towards his friend--the gesture has become such a source of exchanged comfort that he doesn't even really think about it. "I--I know. I'm just... things are hard right now. I lost the stars, and then you mentioned getting items from home but it wouldn't be the same, and then this made me think about how different and out of place I am and..."

Glacius trails off as realization finally strikes him. "I'm the one who should be sorry for this... this unsightly behavior. I don't often get this way... it was different when I knew that I could return to my people if I wanted to, but now I'm completely cut off. I..." he sucks in a breath, preparing admission that feels foreign and embarrassing, but at the same time true and important. "I'm lonely. That's why I wanted to come back early tonight. I keep thinking about the day we spent on the beach and everything you've done for me and I realize that you... help everything... not hurt as much."

As Glacius lowers his head, Carlisle gives the alien's forehead a nudge with his own, returning their shared sign of companionship in this place. While he's not sure if Glacius exchanges the same kind of affectionate gestures with others, he is not about to turn down the alien's offering. It means a lot to him to feel that kind of camaraderie, especially when most people back home would rather give him a wide berth, lest the misfortune that follows him everywhere follow them, as well.

So he treasures Glacius attention, his mind wandering as the icy giant talks about his losses: his home, his people, and even the illusionary stars in the sky that gave him such comfort. Carlisle's mind turns on that last one -- didn't Emily try to make a starry sky from a glyph? Or was it a moon? Either way, the thought has merit, and while as much of a figment as that created by the arrival of the newest god, it might still be of interest to Glacius in his most desperate times.

He's about to suggest he go give Emily a call, but Glacius continues, his words as heavy as his confession. "L- lonely?" he repeats, the corner of his mouth curling with his nerves, as usual. "I- I am happy to help in any way I can, of course. I, ah. Could probably start by not making you terribly homesick."

Though he can't help that nagging feeling at the back of his mind that perhaps there is someone better suited for this task, as there had likely been with the ocean excursion, with Glacius' medical treatment, with exorcising the demon, and even healing. There are always better choices than the failure of the Longinmouth line... well, save for in gardening. He likes to think he's fairly competent in that.

Glacius gives a shaky exhale as he feels Carlisle nudge back against him; while the clergyman's mind drifts back over past exercises in magic that could help the alien, the otherworldly being is actively being helped just by his presence. The warrior draws in one deep breath and then another, trying to cycle some of that tenseness and negative energy out of himself... he focuses on the feeling of support from that contact, thinks back on happier times spent in here with his friends to dull the sharp pain of separation. What was it he had said, back when he was swimming about in a starlight ocean with the human riding on his back? I will think back on this time that we have shared and know that I do not have to feel alone.

It's the truth--he isn't alone. Carlisle is right here, being gracious enough to put up with him even when the strength that he takes such pride in displaying wavers. The ice alien's eye crack open to glowing green slivers. "It's not your fault. It is just an inevitability of my current situation... and sometimes it weighs on me more than others. And because of that, sometimes little reminders stick a whole lot more than they normally would." Glacius sighs tiredly as he tries to explain himself. Now he lifts his head a little bit more, looking to Carlisle and trying to take heart. "But I am lucky enough to have a gracious, compassionate friend to listen to me... and though I did not mean to interrupt what we had started, I... appreciate you giving me a moment to recollect myself."

"Sometimes, a moment is all we need," he reassures Glacius. "Or, as often in my case, several moments and someone with me literally every step of the way."

Carlisle offers Glacius a smile, turning just a hair red, and nods back toward the mortal and pestle. "Let's finish this, and then we'll see what we can do for what ails you."

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