Baking Day

Log Info

Title: Baking Day!
Emitter: None
Characters: Summer Sinclair, Miles Glendower, Eshe, Kelly
NPCs: None
Place: Campus
Time: Sunday, June 27th, 2010
Summary: Sometimes, the best thing to do when there's too much going on is to do something unrelatedly constructive. Thus, Summer finds herself baking far too many goodies and drawing a bit of a crowd.

Home Economics Lab - Campus
Each student at the five benches in this laboratory-turned-kitchen has access to their own sink, range/convection oven combo, and a good deal of counter space. The teacher's bench at the front has a tilted mirror to allow students to see the countertop, and various cooking paraphenalia is stored in huge cupboards surrounding the whiteboard. Practically anything a cook could want can be found here. The only thing shared? The two microwaves at the back of the room.

It being a Sunday sans classes, Summer has somehow obtained permission to use the Food Lab, aka the Home Ec classroom for her own purposes about two hours ago. It's now five o'clock, and delicious scents have been wafting from the classroom for a while.

If one should look in, Summer, an apron over her jeans and shirt, is stirring a double-boiler of melted chocolate, dipping balls of crushed oreos, cream cheese into the mixture and setting them upon a plate next to her. There are a number of cooling racks in use, some bearing cookies, others brownies, and still more loaves of other sorts of sweets. There's music playing from a rather battered-looking ipod dock, something modern and pop-based, and probably the jarring note in the overall picture of culinary domesticity.

Soon enough, there's a knock on the door, and it creaks open, as though someone were to duck his head in. Except, well, no head. The voice that pipes up a moment later makes it clear why, at least. "So I was wandering around campus, which you know, I tend to do when I'm bored, and I started smelling something fantastic. Followed my nose, and hey. Mind company? I swear not to drool on anything." Beat. "Probably."

"Not like I could tell unless I were keeping count. Besides, food's made to /eat/," Summer points out, waving a chocolate-covered spoon at the door and then catching the drops of chocolate that spatter with a swipe of a kitchen cloth. "Just don't take things that haven't finished setting yet. The cookies are free game, though. Or I can put you to use, if that'd salve your guilty conscience when you /do/ inevitably drool."

"Use me as you like. I prefer to work for my grub, anyway." Another pause. "That kind of came out poorly, but you get the idea." A cookie -does- vanish, though.

"I'm getting kind of used to the accidental double-entendres." Summer's voice is amused. "Okay. See these?" She points at a plate of chilled oreo-and-cream-cheese balls. "Dip those in the chocolate, make sure you get it entirely covered, and then set it on this plate here." She grins in his direction. "I /know/ you can do this, because I used to do this with the kids I babysat, so no excuses." She demonstrates, getting chocolate on her fingers, which she promptly licks off. "Meanwhile, /I'm/ going to ice this cake. Anyone you know having a birthday?" She's washing her hands, really.

"Not that I know about, at least. But I haven't really kept track of the local birthday calendar. I need to get used to shopping online if I start paying attention, I guess." The balls vanish and start to reappear, covered in chocolate, even if there's a momentary pause when she starts to lick her fingers. "So what brought all this baking on?"

Summer dries her hands on a kitchen towel, transferring the cake — marbled yellow and chocolate — to another plate. "I bake when I need to think, or do something constructive, or just as an outlet — it's better than sitting in the lounge watching television," she explains. "And I was a little homesick. So I thought I'd do something instead of sitting and sulking. Anything interesting going on that I'm missing out on while doing this?" She peeks at the plate. "Hey, pretty good."

"More grandma training," Miles admits in a slightly embarassed tone. "I've been running down this weird underground tournament thing. Not sure if the whole thing is just…some crackpot stuff, but at least some of the folks involved seem to be real, unless it's just someone taking advantage of a thousand year old legend."

"Legends, huh?" Summer's voice is curious, though her expression has turned somewhat more neutral as she pulls a bread knife out of the utensils drawer and slices through the first layer of the cake, evening it out. "Could be both. Some legends have lousy senses of humour, particularly where their own stories're concerned."

"Yeah. There was this crazy old guy, Ren Lang. Ran a martial arts school in Chinatown, claiming that it was to train warriors to compete in this Tournament of Souls thing. Everyone -thought- he was crazy. But then his place burned down and most of his students went missing, and some of the folks here ran into the boogeyman from Ren Lang's stories." There's a licking sound as Miles finishes dipping the balls and cleans his fingers. "And then I was grabbing a resuciannie thing from the hospital the other night and some -other- folks from a related legend showed up. Machine warriors who were the enemies of both earth -and- Ren Lang's boogieman."

Summer pauses in her cake-torting, setting the knife aside and looking up at where Miles' voice is coming from. "It sounds like the plot from Mortal Kombat, or something. Or maybe one of those other fighting games." She sounds somewhat bemused. "Though I guess they had to draw from somewhere." She shakes her head, looking back down at the cake and resuming her work. "Enemies of earth as in the classical element, or Earth as in the planet?"

"Doesn't it though?" A sigh. "And Earth as the planet. Or, well, China, but since they're running around in Cove City I think it's safe to say that they're not limited to hating China."

"So, explain this tournament to me?" Summer suggests, opening a jar of raspberry jam as she transfers the different cake layers to cooling racks, and then slathers a layer of jam upon the bottom-most layer. "If it comes right down to it, I can always jump into the tournament. I'm sure there's probably some story about an angry weather-elemental mixed in, right?"

"Supposedly, it's a contest to determine which side is the weakest. The Boogeyman dude, the warriors of the middle kingdom, and these machine warriors get together every thousand years. The winner gets bragging rights. The loser is humiliated. But the kicker is what happens when one side loses three times: they're opened to invasion by both of the other two participants. And guess who lost the last two tournaments? By the looks of things, they're trying to ensure we lose this time, too." Miles chuckles. "I'd want you on our side in any fight, that's for sure. I think Revenant's taking care of one of Lang's surviving students, he might know more or be able to tell us how to enter."

"It's always like that, isn't it? At least in all the news stories." Summer looks thoughtful. "I /do/ want to become a news anchor someday." It's a perfectly legitimate occupation for a neohuman, right? She sets the next layer upon the jam layer, then turns her attention to adding a layer of icing atop that. "As if I'd be on any other side. The middle kingdom's… us, right? Somehow the usual school curriculum skipped mythology past the whole 'Oh, greek gods' bit." Pause. "And Revenant is…?"

"I know I'd tune in every night," this is joking, but then, "Us, yeah," Miles agrees. "Revenant's one of the students here, I think. The kid who enrolled despite not having any powers because he wanted to learn how to fight crime."

"Why, because the news is a good place to find information, or because your grandmother insists?" Summer jokes right back, adding the third tier of cake atop the first two and beginning to ice it along the sides. "Oh, you mentioned him. So, instead of powers training, he gets… used as a target dummy for powers training?"

"I wouldn't call him a target; he's probably better than I am in hand to hand, or at least just as good." Miles eyes the cake. "Whoever has the closest birthday is going to expect someone to jump out of that at this rate."

"I'd have to make it a /far/ bigger cake, and one capable of supporting its own weight via tiers or something, which I ca-" Summer might have taken Miles literally. She pauses, eyes where he ought to be, and chuckles. "But anyway, I just meant… his training's got to be a lot different than anyone with powers.

"Probably, but he applied a lot of it himself, I think. I don't know the whole story here, though." " Whether he's smirking or not at her taking him seriously is, alas, a mystery for the ages.

"Or maybe he assumes that someday we'll all go rogue and he's here to figure out how to deal with that what-if," Summer suggests cheerily. "Whatever. It's funny to make up ridiculous theories about a person before you meet them."

"After too, sometimes. If the actual story is pretty boring." A light chuckle. "Anything else you need me to do now that the balls are done?"

Looking up from her work, Summer runs down a mental list, ticking things off with a finger. It probably looks fairly strange, but it's how she works. Her eyes fall upon a stack of tupperware and metal tins. "Could you put the chocolate chip cookies in the tins, and cut the brownies in a three-by-four grid and put those into the tupperware?"

"Sure." the voice is over by the tins and tupperware now and cookies are disappearing. "On a completely unrelated note, I want to go flying with you at some point when I don't have to tackle you from a rooftop for it."

"I'd be afraid I'd drop you and then couldn't find you," Summer laughs, though there is a note of unease. "But if you're willing to take that risk, sure. You'd be the first person I've ever taken flying with me." She smooths the last of the icing on the cake, then sets it in the fridge to set. "Or is this just an excuse to hang onto me without my trying to zap you?"

"I…" a pause. "Well, it could be both? I just can't actually fly, and it was kind of exhilerating last time. I'm not going to deny that you're hangable, though. So to speak." Two tins are full of cookies now, and the brownies start to slice themselves.

The situation at hand: Summer managed to convince the dorm manager and the teacher in charge of the home economics classroom to allow her to use the food lab this Sunday. Her baking frenzy is in its winding-down stage, and delectable scents are wafting from the cracked-open door, along with the local pop radio from a rather battered Ipod dock. Summer is just putting an iced-and-smoothed cake into the fridge, talking over her shoulder to where, on another counter, the brownies are seeming to slice themselves. "I'm glad you used an h there instead of a b, or I would've had to hit you," Summer notes to Miles. "Is there enough room for everything?"

She's evidently made everything from brownies to oreo truffles to banana bread to chocolate chip cookies; quite a productive afternoon. "Oh, and toss the truffles in the fridge? They need to set for about ten minutes."

Suddenly there came a rapping, as if someone gently tapping, tapping at the classroom door. It's no Raven, though her long hair could be described as a similar color, but an Egyptian girl kind of hovering there and smiling. "Excuse me," she says in her very oddly accented English, "But something smells so good that I could not resist exploring for the source." She's ditched her denim jacket today and is just wearing her tight black tank top. The jeans are gone as well, replaced by blue athletic shorts that leave her legs mostly bare. Her tennis-shoe clad feet sits about two inches off the ground.

Kelly pokes her head in around the Egyptian girl, "Wow, what's the smell? It just seems delicious!" She then looks up towards Eshe, "Um, you know, like, you are so hovering right now." She grins, wearing her normal attire for the moment, along with a Boston Red Sox cap.

"Almost. But fortunately, I think some help just arrived to clean up the extras." Meanwhile, the fridge opens and closes, the tray of oreo truffles vanishing inside. "And I would never say the b. Think it maybe, but not say it." The cookies and brownies that didn't fit in the tin get waved to with one of the filled tins, it being too large to vanish when Miles picks it up.

And here? Here's where Summer grins. She'd semi-expected more people to turn up with the scent of chocolate about, and thus she gestures with a spatula towards the slowly-filling tins. "I was baking sweets," the blonde admits with a laugh, beginning to wash up the spatula in her sink. "If you'll help me clean up a bit, I'll share." There /are/ a few bowls in the sink, and the counters have spots and dots of chocolate and flour. "I promised I'd get it as tidy as I could when I finished."

Eshe looks over to Kelly and then nods, dropping those two inches gently and resting her feet on the ground. "Sorry, I was out flying and I tend to forget not to fly when I go inside again." She takes another smell and wanders into the baking lab. "Chocolate. I have to say that of all the things invented in the centuries I have missed out, chocolate has to be the very best of all. We had no idea what we were missing not having it back home." She looks over to the dishes in the sink and grins widely. "Oh! Let me help with that!" She winks and… her hair starts to move. Or rather, things start moving under her hair. Little ghostly things, spectral scrabs begins crawling out from beneath her raven locks, crawling down her arms, dropping from her shoulders or just flying over to the sink on nearly silent wings. "My servants can take care of that. They are very thorough and don't worry, they are extremely clean! They're ghosts after all!"

Kelly grins at Eshe, "Oh, it's cool and… whoa, bugs!" She blinks, "Ghost bugs? Freaky!" She blinks again, then looks sheepishly at Summer, "Er, I'd help, but I think the spooky things have it in hand, um, yeah…" Not that she's squicked out by bugs, oh no not at all even as she takes a few cautious steps away from Eshe.

The disembodied voice comments, "Okay, that's almost as surreal as the girl who left who had birds do her hair in the morning."

"I'm sure that ghosts /are/ very clean. Some of them even get caught in showers, ensuring that," Summer says, keeping a straight face and /not/ looking Miles' way. As the scarabs cover the dishes, she takes a slow step back, then rubs at her cheek ruefully. "I'm new here." It explains much. "Anyway, anything that isn't packed up now is free game, and most of the things that /are/ packed up will be free game over the next couple of days, if you decide to come visit me at Baldwin." Her plan for meeting people: get rumours put about that Summer Sinclair has FOOD and let the people come to her. "Also, either of you know if there's someone having a birthday in the next couple of days? I made a cake, I just don't know people's birthdays yet. Or preferences, honestly."

"Birds? Do her hair in the morning? What, was she a refugee from Disneyland?" Summer asks of Miles.

Eshe's Scarabs go about cleaning, they are suprisingly strong when they work together and a few gang up on the scrubber, beating their transparent wings to lift it and scrubs at the pots, pans and plates that the other bugs are manipulating in circles with their multiple legs. "I don't even know my own birthday anymore," Eshe giggles, "Someone went and changed all the calenders while I was gone. But if I find out anyone's birthday, I will let you know." She takes the invitation to grab a brownie and take a big bite. She shivers and closes her eyes, her pleasure in the simple act of eating almost embarassing to watch. "God, I love sugar. Refined sugar is so… amazing and when it is coupled with chocolate, it is something the gods themselves could have created as a reward for faithful service!"

Kelly hrms, "Well, mine isn't until October, so…" She shrugs a bit, "I mean, like, I just got here, you know, so I'm still learning who people are. Still haven't figured out birthdays or the like yet." She smiles a little, "But there is never anything wrong with chocolate."

"Something like that." He coughs at the mention of the shower, and adds, dryly, "Though for Disney she was a dab hand with a cellphone camera."

There's a faint shift in the breeze coming in from one of the windows, and Summer follows it to where Miles has packed up most of the baked goods. She pats him on the shoulder. "Thanks, you. That makes things a lot easier.. Sorry I haven't found that camera for you." She glances up at the clock at the front of the room. "The truffles should be cooled enough in about five more minutes, too."

Eshe's explanation has Summer's brain going through a dizzying number of possibilities, and then just erroring out to the point where her eyes cross briefly, she sighs, and decides it's better just to take things as they come. "You're not alone in the chocolate-worship," she tells Eshe. "Most of the recipes I made today came from a cookbook that's only about chocolate in various forms." She rolls her eyes slightly at this, then grins at Kelly. "I'm in the same boat, so it's not just freshmen who feel a bit out of place here."

"I'm really only a Junior because of my relative age." Eshe chuckles and runs a hand through her hair as she munches on her brownie. "They didn't want me to end up with Freshmen when I'm, well, either 16 or 4135 depending on how you look at it. Oh, I'm Eshe by the way," she offers her free, non-brownied hand to Summer, "And yes, I'm from Egypt, the original Egypt a few hundred years after the Pyrmaids were built. I might add that people really didn't take very good care of them over the years. They look like,

She pauses to think of the right word, "Crap. Yes, They look like Crap now."

Kelly nods, "Well, they still look pretty keen, I think. I'd love to go to Egypt someday, as long as there aren't ghost bugs. I mean, not that I have a problem with ghost bugs that much, but it just seems a little weird even for me. Oh, and I'm Kelly by the way, just up the road from Boston." She grins at Summer and where Miles' voice is coming from, "Glad to see you two again."

Miles almost starts- he's not exactly used to people being able to find him for shoulder pats out of the blue. "Hey, it was no problem. Plus, I got to eat some, so hey. Technically I'm still growing, though I kind of hope I don't do much more of it, really." Kelly's greeting gives him pause, and then he snaps his fingers. "Oh, right, the cannonball girl."

Taking Eshe's proffered hand and giving it a courteous shake, Summer doesn't exactly manage to hide her surprise. "I'm Summer. From St. Petersburg, Florida. I don't really have an amazing story or anything; I just manipulate the weater." She'll leave it at that, too, letting go of Eshe's hand and picking up a few filled containers, balancing them on one hip between arm and body, and reaching up to pat Miles' head. "Nothing wrong with being tall."

"Ah, the weather is a good thing to control!" Eshe seems actually impressed, "You could ensure crops got proper hydration and sunlight so that there would never be drought or famine! That's a powerful ability." Of course, she looks over towards the space where she assumes Miles is. "And it would seem my scarabs are not the only spectral things here." Those Scarabs, meanwhile, are passing cleaned and now dried dishes across their backs like ants in a cartoon and stacking them neatly by the side of the sink.

"Or that hurricanes don't make landfall," Summer mutters, only to sigh a moment later as she retrieves a plate of oreo truffles from the fridge, testing one to see if it's set. It has. "Miles isn't a ghost. You just can't see him because his brain tells yours you can't. More or less." She automatically comes to his defense there, waggling the tupperware box to a rattle of baked goods. "Oh. Could you snag the banana bread and put it in those brown paper bags there?" She jerks her chin towards the last cooling rack with its loaves of heavy, sweet bread.

Kelly hrms, "Well, maybe someday I'll get to be tall. That would be nice." She grins wryly, "As it is, I'll just settle for what I can do. Which is make big waves." She blinks, "Oh, banana bread too? Wow. What dorm are you in, because I hope it's mine?"

Miles can't actually grin at Summer, but there's one in his voice. "Thanks for that. And sure." The voice moves, finally, heading to bag the bags. "Tall's okay sometimes, but it has its downsides in other ways."

Eshe furrows her brow a little and looks over towards where Miles was. "I do not know if I like the idea of him telling my brain what to think." She seems almost to pout, then shakes her head and smiles. "Well, if he doesn't want to be seen, I won't press the issue. He has to have his reasons." Her beetles finish their work and as they do, they just wander off, getting more and more faint as they do until they just fade into nothing by the edge of the counter. She dimisses any of her own misgivings by taking another brownie and munching.

Summer juggles the containers, balancing one atop the other. "I honestly expected all the water in the pool to come splashing out with that jump of yours," she teases Kelly. "And I'm in Baldwin, but you're welcome to come visit if you want to chat about whatever, or if you're just hungry. I usually have /something/ in my mini-fridge." Shuffling containers around, she pats Miles' arm again. "Sorry. Talking /around/ you is rude of us. Anyway, I'm going to take this stuff back to my room. There're still some cookies and brownies there-" She nods at the parchment-paper'd sweets that didn't fit into the boxes. "-so if you want, grab what's left. And that offer's open to all of you. I like guests, most of the time." With that, she heads out the door, footsteps receding into the distance.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License