Rory
It wasn't how he had imagined his day to go, but he had since long learned to roll with the punches. While anger was sometimes justified and productive Rory found it unpleasant and a waste of energy at most times, choosing instead to look for the silver lining. In this case, it was probably scones.
"Rory," he responded to Deimos, blunt nails moving lightly over the squash's skin, tracing little patterns. "Pleasure to meet you." Pulp and seeds aside; the circumstances could certainly have been nicer. But alas, they weren't, and acceptance was one of his double-edged traits: making his life easier and smoother, but also making him more prone to give up.
Flicking away bits of gourd flesh from his clothes he followedAmalia and Deimos into the bakery, rather absentmindedly holding on to his wriggling vegetable with his other hand. Honestly, goats were more slippery to hold on to—goats were demons in a furry disguise when they so chose to.
Once inside, Rory sort of just .. stopped. The heat radiating from the oven, the tantalizing smell of a bakery, the space being somewhere right in between run-down and restored; a ghost of what it might once have been. It was almost like you could hear the echoes of a time more prosperous.
Oh, how little he knew of anyone in this place, despite having lived here his whole life.
Rory shrugged out of his greatcoat, and then found a suitably open workspace. While Amalia brought out a prepared dough he searched for—and found—a sharp and clean knife, setting to work on cutting up his gourd and scooping out the seeds, rinsing the flesh from them as he went. He wasn't sure what her plans were but he was no stranger to roasting seeds, and it seemed like a natural progression of events. Ever the working animal, he began the hunt for something like a skillet, or a slightly deeper tray. Sooner or later—unless entirely stopped in his endeavors by Amalia—he found a suitable one, gently ignoring the offer to make himself comfortable. Rory was only comfortable when he had something to do with his hands. "Tea would be nice, thank you," he said, transferring his seeds to the tray before holding it out to Deimos, a silent question if the man wanted to contribute his seeds to the effort.
"Do you have some oil or grease?" he asked, figuring that was easier than rummaging through all her stores; and if some was to be had, he'd pour some on the seeds, perhaps some seasoning if such was volunteered as well, making sure it was evenly distributed, before pushing the seeds into the oven to roast. And if not.. well, he'd just roast the seeds without any grease, and then spend an eternity cleaning the tray afterwards.
[ So this post is a bit of an "if/if not" mess; I hope everything in it is okay and if not just poke me and we'll sort it out <3 But I just wanted to get Rory's contribution properly written so there won't be a rush for the next round anymore. ]
"Rory," he responded to Deimos, blunt nails moving lightly over the squash's skin, tracing little patterns. "Pleasure to meet you." Pulp and seeds aside; the circumstances could certainly have been nicer. But alas, they weren't, and acceptance was one of his double-edged traits: making his life easier and smoother, but also making him more prone to give up.
Flicking away bits of gourd flesh from his clothes he followed
Once inside, Rory sort of just .. stopped. The heat radiating from the oven, the tantalizing smell of a bakery, the space being somewhere right in between run-down and restored; a ghost of what it might once have been. It was almost like you could hear the echoes of a time more prosperous.
Oh, how little he knew of anyone in this place, despite having lived here his whole life.
Rory shrugged out of his greatcoat, and then found a suitably open workspace. While Amalia brought out a prepared dough he searched for—and found—a sharp and clean knife, setting to work on cutting up his gourd and scooping out the seeds, rinsing the flesh from them as he went. He wasn't sure what her plans were but he was no stranger to roasting seeds, and it seemed like a natural progression of events. Ever the working animal, he began the hunt for something like a skillet, or a slightly deeper tray. Sooner or later—unless entirely stopped in his endeavors by Amalia—he found a suitable one, gently ignoring the offer to make himself comfortable. Rory was only comfortable when he had something to do with his hands. "Tea would be nice, thank you," he said, transferring his seeds to the tray before holding it out to Deimos, a silent question if the man wanted to contribute his seeds to the effort.
"Do you have some oil or grease?" he asked, figuring that was easier than rummaging through all her stores; and if some was to be had, he'd pour some on the seeds, perhaps some seasoning if such was volunteered as well, making sure it was evenly distributed, before pushing the seeds into the oven to roast. And if not.. well, he'd just roast the seeds without any grease, and then spend an eternity cleaning the tray afterwards.
[ So this post is a bit of an "if/if not" mess; I hope everything in it is okay and if not just poke me and we'll sort it out <3 But I just wanted to get Rory's contribution properly written so there won't be a rush for the next round anymore. ]
