abraxaslogs | [Open] A Star In Hand Lit His Way

[ He huffs a little, amusement colouring his reply. ] Both.

[ There are bandits out there. Jaskier normally travels with Ciri, but both of them have had...less than ideal experiences together out in the desert, for two completely different reasons. Might be time for a small change.

Besides, just because Geralt's trapped in the city recovering doesn't mean everyone else has got to be. And he figures Rinwell could use more to do than to look after his horse, even if Roach seems to have benefited from the care. Even her black mane's been neatly crimped now.

He eases to his feet, now that they're finished in the stables. ] Come inside. Ciri tells me you made something unusual.

[ Rinwell has faced worse than bandits. But there are still things she has yet to encounter here. ]

I'll keep that in mind.

[ You tasked her with caring for your horse, and by golly, she has thrown herself into that job. Especially when it helped relieve some of the burden from Ciri and Jaskier.

That she's also helping with meals and some minor tidying around the apartment means the girl is doing what she can to 'earn her keep'. At some point, she'll find a job with coin, to pay forward what they've done for her, but this much she's been assured is enough for now. ]

I have? [what could Ciri be referring to—Oh!] I don't know about unusual. But it IS tasty.

[ It's plenty, in truth. (He'd say it's more than Hector's done, but he's fairly certain Hector is willing to do a lot, too. It's only that the man's version of what he's willing to do tends to involve risen corpses.) ]

She seemed impressed, whatever it is. [ He's gathered it's some sort of desert. And now that Rinwell has made herself something of a fixture in their home, she'll find out soon if she hasn't already how quickly word spreads between the three of them when they're all in the same vicinity.

He's limping a bit by the time they reach the inn room that's become more and more of a permanent home. He pushes open the door—lets Rinwell in first before he follows behind and pulls forward the nearest chair to sit down in. Eventually, he'll start to test mounting his horse, but. It'll be some days yet. He heals faster than most on his own, but not as quick as he would if he'd had full access to his elixirs. What he can make here is sufficient, but not the same. ]

I'm glad she liked it.

[ Having Ciri as her first taste tester had been an excellent idea, really. Especially if she's now passing on word about her desserts! ]

I really like sweet things. But if there's any particular food other people prefer, I'm okay with learning how to cook it. We— I did a lot of cooking on the road, when I was traveling with my friends.

[ She's begun mentioning them to Ciri, in drips and drabs. But it's plain even with that brief mention that she misses them, whoever those friends might be.

Sharp eyes don't miss the limp that soon accompanies Geralt on their way back, and Rinwell is mindful not to keep him waiting, slipping inside and bee lining for the kitchenette. ]

Would you like anything in particular to drink?

[ She wouldn't usually ask, but he might want something else before she tries and pulls the ice cream out of the coldbox. ]

[ He shakes his head in reply. Probably by now Rinwell has discovered what's to drink in their household is ale or wine, and a store of vodka for when they actually desire to drink. He's gotten the sense early in this isn't what Rinwell is normally used to, but. Not much else to obtain in the city.

He distinctly does not lean back in the chair, instead resting his hands on the seat as he watches her. That's the first time she's mentioned her friends to him really.

It's curious, that she calls it travelling with friends. Hadn't she mentioned her people were enslaved? Was she still among them or had she found herself elsewhere? ]

We're on the road most our lives. We aren't the picky sort. [ Even Jaskier learned to make do following a Witcher, though the bard has put down coin for a more embellished meal from time to time. He studies her for a second. ] Seems you've spent your days doing the same.

[ If he doesn't have a preference, then Geralt will find himself with a bottle of ale placed next to him, before Rinwell heads to the coldbox and pulls out the tub she'd been keeping cool inside.

Frozen, even, aided and abetted by a little ice magic application as and when required. She doesn't need a stool for this part, at least, and seems pleased as the lid is carefully peeled back and her work examined. A spoon, a spoon, her kingdom for a— ah! ]

I learned a little off and on. But we had to take turns, and everyone pitched in with learning recipes on the road.

One friend of mine is picky, even when he says he isn't. [absently mentioned; she's only really spoken of her absent friends with Ciri, and only recently at that] He'll eat anything meat, but hates eating greens. And sugar. [how can you hate sugary things?? honestly.]

He's not a big fan of this dessert. But I hope you'll like it.

[ Said, as she scoops a small helping out and into one of the few clean bowls; she's going to have to rinse things out and tidy when they're done, but that's no hardship in the grand scheme of things. And Rinwell looks genuinely eager for Geralt's opinion on her dish as she turns back and brings it over. Cold, creamy coloured, and smells sweet. ]

[ The cold box is a new thing for him, but its usefulness grew on him quickly. And while it took him a bit of time to get used to chilled ale, it's become something of a preference now.

His lips quirk. Admittedly, he has little care for sweetness, too, or dessert. But Rinwell's obviously put a lot of effort into making what she has. The least he can do is try it. Especially when it seems to remind her of home.

He sniffs it first. It smells sweet, but lightly so. When he dips his spoon into it, the coldness seems to surprise him. Hm. It reminds him, a little, of cream left out in the winter chill: icy, thick. This is more deliberately done, though. Despite his absent sweet tooth, the cold and lightness makes it far more palatable—lacking the heavy stickiness he's tasted on some of the things he's been given to try in the Horizon. ]

Your friend's missing out. [ It's good, actually. He sticks another spoonful in his mouth. ] In winter, children would pour molasses or honey on fresh snow.

[ That's what this reminds him of a bit. He remembers doing it as a boy. Plenty of snow up in the Blue Mountains. ]

[ Rinwell tries, and fails, to not look as anxious as she feels as Geralt inspects her offering, both owl and mage watching as he sniffs at the ice cream before taking that first bite. She's done her best, given the tools at her disposal, and even with a bit of magic to hasten some of the process, it's taken several attempts before she finally hit the right combination.

So when he speaks, she can't help the big smile that crosses her face. Hootle bobs his head, an echo of the happy mood he senses in his human. (Hah! Take that, Law!) ]

There's lots of flavour variation you can make, depending on what you mix into it. Some fruits can be really nice, and honey too. I really like chocolate, but I haven't really found much of that here..

[ Then eyes light up. ] We have that back home! Or, had, I guess. [the light dims, before she rallies quickly] My- Adults would tap some of the trees, and collect the sap. Sometimes they'd heat it first, to thicken the sugar, but usually they'd just pour it directly.

[ Is this the second time he's heard about chocolate? Might be. He still doesn't know what it is, but fruit and honey he understands. He listens as Rinwell speaks, eyes on her. His expression shifts when hers do; he hears it, the way she stumbles before she fills it in with adults instead. It's not hard to guess what she'd initially meant to say.

He doesn't ask outright, but: ]

We collected it on our own. [ He props his foot up on a stool to rest his knee. ] Mostly took care of ourselves.

[ He doesn't know how old Rinwell was when she found herself orphaned. But he does know what it feels like. ]

[ There's a sidelong glance for Geralt, listening to what he says. It's nice, to realise other worlds had similar traditions (and similar frozen regions).

And there's a hint, or what she hopes is a hint, that maybe he understands better than she initially thought he would.

She smiles, and nods slowly. She's already said more than she'd planned today. But that's alright. It's a good sign that she's coming out of her shell, if slowly. ]

It got harder, when I was older. But I hope I can get to do it again, someday. Maybe not here [what is snow in Cadens, obviously] but maybe in the Horizon.

[Open] A Star In Hand Lit His Way

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