Peeta Mellark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dailybread) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eswareinmal2012-08-22 07:01 pm
dailybread) wrote in eswareinmal2012-08-22 07:01 pm
Entry tags:
RD16, log + orb!
Characters: Peeta Mellark and you.
Open? Yes.
Where: Market quarter of Schwanheim, in a previously vacant storefront.
When: Early afternoon, RD 16
What: Peeta is opening a bakery and needs some taste-testers.
Warnings: None. Schmoopyness?
[Peeta's got flour in his hair, arms covered in dough, and a smile on his face. The crackling of a stove can be heard, if you listen closely; the locale itself is bright and sunny.]
Rue, you wanted cake, didn't you? And anyone else can come by, if you want. There's plenty to go around.
The castle dressmakers were...pushy. No worse than the stylists at the capital, but Faolan was right--they wouldn't give him pants. What he got wasn't so bad, though, if he rolled up the sleeves, although the shoes weren't very comfortable.
Buying a building with some of his gold (the amount of which was staggering; his jaw dropped when the treasurer had opened his vault in the castle) was easy. The shop was spacious, clean and well-lit with large windows to allow sun to spill in over the floor. The stove was nice, too; an old one, fed with wood. Peeta would have chopped the logs himself, but he hadn't been able to get his hands on an axe; the townspeople had insisted it was unbecoming of a princess to do manual labor.
So he'd bought some of those, too, along with three sacks of flour, raw cocoa, milk, butter, sugar, and a myriad of other ingredients he'd only read about. Currently in the oven was a batch of sweet buns--Katniss liked them; the smell called to mind her dark braid and bright, calculating eyes--and he was whisking together batter for a chocolate cake while he waited.
[[OOC: Just let me know in your subject line whether you're talking back to him on the orb or physically showing up. :3]]
Open? Yes.
Where: Market quarter of Schwanheim, in a previously vacant storefront.
When: Early afternoon, RD 16
What: Peeta is opening a bakery and needs some taste-testers.
Warnings: None. Schmoopyness?
[Peeta's got flour in his hair, arms covered in dough, and a smile on his face. The crackling of a stove can be heard, if you listen closely; the locale itself is bright and sunny.]
Rue, you wanted cake, didn't you? And anyone else can come by, if you want. There's plenty to go around.
The castle dressmakers were...pushy. No worse than the stylists at the capital, but Faolan was right--they wouldn't give him pants. What he got wasn't so bad, though, if he rolled up the sleeves, although the shoes weren't very comfortable.
Buying a building with some of his gold (the amount of which was staggering; his jaw dropped when the treasurer had opened his vault in the castle) was easy. The shop was spacious, clean and well-lit with large windows to allow sun to spill in over the floor. The stove was nice, too; an old one, fed with wood. Peeta would have chopped the logs himself, but he hadn't been able to get his hands on an axe; the townspeople had insisted it was unbecoming of a princess to do manual labor.
So he'd bought some of those, too, along with three sacks of flour, raw cocoa, milk, butter, sugar, and a myriad of other ingredients he'd only read about. Currently in the oven was a batch of sweet buns--Katniss liked them; the smell called to mind her dark braid and bright, calculating eyes--and he was whisking together batter for a chocolate cake while he waited.
[[OOC: Just let me know in your subject line whether you're talking back to him on the orb or physically showing up. :3]]
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[A small smile is returned.] They're welcome to come by. I did bake the buns to be eaten, not looked at.
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[...] You're a baker, then?
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Did you find anything interesting?
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Also found the beach, for what it's worth.
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[It's not the beach he came from, Peeta is almost certain. It still doesn't bring back pleasant memories.]
Are the thorns as deadly as the old man made them sound?
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[Giles takes a deep breath. He especially hates giving messages like this to children. Once, he was good at it, but it's been a while, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, now.]
...I, I think they might actually be moreso.
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Not at all helpful, I'm afraid, especially not when it comes to stopping them. [He sounds, for what it's worth, honestly apologetic about how little news he has to give on the subject, and a bit abashed that even this is an improvement over what he knew before.]
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[The city seems peaceful now, but it won't stay that way for long if there are sentient thorns bent on destroying it.]
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In other words, um...well, we, we don't have very much time.
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A direct, if fairly brutal method - our own lives are on the line just as much as theirs', in the end.
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[Fighting is not what he does, but he's not so bad at surviving. At least not where someone else is concerned. A small smile.]
At very least, I'll keep you in bread.
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If you can make any money off your bread, or your cakes, that would also be greatly appreciated. Myself and my friends are well off enough, but some of the new arrivals can't always find a job.
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[More than he knows what to do with.]
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Others might. Um, especially if it keeps them from getting tangled up with the affairs of the townspeople.
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[He wants to keep the bakery cost-free. The look on someone's face when they can fill their belly without emptying their wallet is something that hits him in the chest, every time.]
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Thank you for your offer, um...sorry, I, I'm not actually sure I caught your name.
[Giles knows by now that he's bad at remembering such things. Introductions, in matters like this, seem to tend to fall on the "pleasure" side of "Business before pleasure."]
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[He'd forgotten, too--it didn't seem to matter when talking about thorns that could consume the entire city.]
I didn't catch your name either.
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Rupert Giles. Just, um, just Giles is fine.
It's, it's nice to meet you, if I haven't mentioned already.
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