Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Adrian Bishop]

---

Adrian yawned and looked dubiously at the cake sitting on the table. Cake for breakfast. Again. Upstairs he heard Soren stirring in bed. Soon she’d be downstairs, and he refused to make her eat leftovers from Ostara yet again.

Just inside the front door sat an unfamiliar crate with his name written across it in the cook’s handwriting. He opened it and pulled a skillet from the crate that Amdiriel had apparently delivered overnight. He peered in to see what else she had sent. He had often cooked, but only for himself. He’d always called it ‘creative starvation,’ as anything he’d ever cooked had been burnt, tough, or otherwise inedible. A sack of potatoes sat in a corner of the crate, cheerfully decorated with green and purple ribbons and a small parchment scroll.

Unfurling the scroll, he found a list of simple recipes and a note:

Adrian,

Even you can’t screw these up. I’ve included the ingredients for each in the crate. I’ve even included instructions to cook over a campfire, as I know you tend to favour. I’m taking care of the camp while you’re gone and keeping the fire burning. There has been more traffic the past day or so. I have heard rumblings of a rash of attacks on gypsies. Apparently, it’s a fad, as outsiders have learned that you folk like to carry pretty treasures. Please keep your pouches hidden and travel light. And be wary of strangers. I’ll keep those who drop in fed and entertained until your return.

Your Devoted Cook,
Amdiriel a’Dae

Adrian looked at the recipes one by one, then shrugged. How hard can it be? He cracked the front door and looked outside warily for a moment, then dragged the crate out by the fire pit. Carefully, he stoked the embers from last night’s fire and built it up to a crackling flame. Then he sat down on the steps with a potato in one hand and a knife in the other. Awkwardly, he began to peel.

[Adrian Bishop]

---

The potatoes were peeled, quartered, and steaming merrily over the fire as they browned in the skillet. They were cooking in the grease from a few strips of bacon that sputtered and popped alongside them. He pulled the now crispy bacon from the skillet and allowed it to cool as the potatoes finished cooking, then crumbled the bacon strips over the potatoes and stirred the skillet.

And then, the coup d’état. He cracked four eggs and plopped them into the skillet over the potatoes, stirring everything around and allowing the eggs to scramble and cook in the spaces. He opened a small pouch labeled “Spices” and sprinkled it over the top, then crumbled a handful of cheese from a wheel and sprinkled it over the top of the whole pile. Carefully, he wrapped the skillet handle with a cloth and turned to take it inside.

The door swung open, and Soren stood wrapped in his robe with a look of disbelief as her husband held up his creation proudly. The pile of food was enormous. The cheese melted and sank into the spaces of the pile.

“Morning, Sparrow.” He beamed. “Breakfast?”

[Soren]

---

A smile began at the creases of her mouth and quickly spread ear to ear. Her husband stood, skillet in hand, with a look as though he had single handedly defended all of Sosaria.”Morning, My Adrian.” Soren's bare feet padded across the floor and ducking the skillet she wrapped her arms tightly around him, giving him a morning squeeze. “It smells wonderful! You must have been up for hours.” It was half statement and half question.

“Not too long.” Adrian's half smile told her it had been a lot longer than he was ever going to fess up for.

“I can't wait to eat it!” Letting go of him she looked around for utensils. Locaitng a previously unseen pack sitting on the dresser, she rummaged through. Satisfired she pulled out a set of utensils and plates. She placed them on opposite ends of the stone table and reached for the skillet her husband held lovingly in his hands.

“I can get it.”

“I know. But you've worked so hard. Let me at least serve you.” Adrian resigned himself to letting Soren take the skillet from him. Their time here had been perfect and if he could keep even one frown from creasing her face he would do it.

Soren watched the thoughts cross her husband's face and she knew she was going to get her way. That made her smile all the more. Reaching up without thinking she brushed his cheek with her hand letting it trail down to the slight scar he still had from falling on his axe. Her heart so full of love that it ached she caressed his beard and kissed him lightly. Soft and sweet, she was met with a kiss in return. Turning back around she dished out the food. She didn't wait for him to eat first she picked up her fork and dug into the potato's. “I think I may have lost my position as cook. These are delicious.” She had never really seen Adrian as being prideful, but when his broad chest lifted up and the “See what I can do” look crossed his face she had to laugh. Closing her eyes she took another bite and another, married life was going to make her fat and happy. She could always work it off later. A blush crossed her face at that last thought