Zavien
Mittens' depressive exile to the corner was not Sol's idea of a truce, and it definitely wasn't fun. With a sad rumble, he searched the room for something to rectify the situation. His golden form made its way around before spotting a piece of rolled up packing material that must have gotten missed. Carrying it gently, the dragon made his way over to the 'time-out' corner, eyes pleading and hopefully as he offered the 'ball' that he'd found to the other companion. Sol sat with his tail wrapped around his legs, chirping to get the snowball's attention.
Leaving the companions to work out their own problems, Zavien narrowed his focus to the stove's dial. He fidgeted with it to get a feel for how to operate the machinery. Lena made it look easy, so he tried his best to not overthink the process. It turned to medium, flaring the fire beneath the pan, just as it had when she'd done it. While Lena placed the meat inside, he took a moment to look at the pasta again, remembering to stir it as previously instructed. It made him smile, looking to the Caretaker for confirmation that he'd done the right thing.
As he inspected the meat in the pan, he asked, "How will I know when to flip it?" 'A little bit' didn't seem very specific, and his instincts told him to wait until he saw smoke, like with a firepit (not that he'd every properly cooked anything on a firepit either).
Leaving the companions to work out their own problems, Zavien narrowed his focus to the stove's dial. He fidgeted with it to get a feel for how to operate the machinery. Lena made it look easy, so he tried his best to not overthink the process. It turned to medium, flaring the fire beneath the pan, just as it had when she'd done it. While Lena placed the meat inside, he took a moment to look at the pasta again, remembering to stir it as previously instructed. It made him smile, looking to the Caretaker for confirmation that he'd done the right thing.
As he inspected the meat in the pan, he asked, "How will I know when to flip it?" 'A little bit' didn't seem very specific, and his instincts told him to wait until he saw smoke, like with a firepit (not that he'd every properly cooked anything on a firepit either).
If you don't like the road you're walking,
start paving another.
start paving another.
