stillplaying | 7th Game [action/voice]

Entry tags:

7th Game [action/voice]

[Action]

[The bakery is a mess. She never meant for it to end up that way. It just sort of happened. Flour covering hair and body, the smell of something burning from the kitchen, flecks of pink frosting teasing her cheeks. Peeta's normally presentable window displays are less than ideal; a poor attempt at recreating the alluring cakes that always caught her attention back in District Twelve. The frosting's melted from the summer heat on one that's sat out since Friday. Another is poorly covered with a grey color -- an attempt at mixing food dyes gone horribly wrong.

Ingredients for various baked goods have somehow escaped the kitchen, piled up on the counters, half covering the note cards Peeta had left for her. Cookbooks borrowed from the library lie open elsewhere, pages now far from pristine. Half baked pretzels stock the shelves along with burnt chocolate chip cookies. Deformed cheese breads and crumbled brownie bites still in their trays sit nearby. Even Buttercup, easily pleased by any free food, ignores the easy pickings.

She tried. She had tried so hard. Peeta had left her recipes. Had tried to teach her how to bake on lazy days when she was more content to spend time with him in the bakery than go about her own thing. It seems that every lesson has been forgotten. Any skill she might have had in the kitchen, utterly gone.

The rain pours outside as she plucks at the rock hard shortbread cookies she's recently retrieved from the oven, trying her best to peel them from the tray. It's a halfhearted effort as she leans her head against her hand and stares out the window. She'd rather be hunting. But it's been raining ever since Peeta left for his mission, raining so hard, all she's been able to do is check a couple of the traps in the river behind their house. And she had promised, hadn't she? Promised she'd look after the bakery?

Look how miserably she failed, the worry making it hard to breathe, harder to concentrate. Shouldn't he be back by now? Shouldn't he?

Every few minutes, she checks the journal for signs of life. Ignores Buttercup begging for real food. Glances at the door to see if Peeta's finally return. No luck. No luck at all. He's supposed to be back today. Why isn't he back yet?]

[Voice]

Why do you bother? [The words aren't meant to be recorded in the journal, but they are, anyway. It barely processes to Katniss that she's left it laying open, close enough to pick up any mutterings.] Going on these missions? Being a piece in their games?

It's stupid. This is all stupid.

[ooc: timed to after mission is over, when people start arriving home. but if you want to tag during -- feel free to have katniss in the bakery making a mess from friday on!

also, edit for warning of sexual content in the Peeta thread.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, then I'll definitely take a batch of those! I'm sure Mithos would like them...

[Um.]

Is everything okay here...? Are you working by yourself?

[A batch? Katniss looks down at the tray and frowns a little. She's not certain if there's enough for a batch. Not when she's been feeding most of the smaller pieces to Buttercup.

But she'll try. She looks around before finding one of the boxes half hidden by a bag of flour and brings it over to the counter.

In response to the woman's question, she nods.] Until Peeta gets back.

Well... Would you like a little help while you wait for him?

[She hates this. Hates asking for help of any kind. It's too akin with owing people something. Especially when it's offered like this. When she really needs it.

She looks sheepish when she asks,] Can you bake?

I can make and bake cookies and muffins! And I'm sure we can get a few books and back the rest of what we need--it won't be anything too fancy, but we can definitely do it.

[There's a slight gesture to some of the books already scattered around.]

I have most of them already.

Oh... so I see. Then we shouldn't waste any time!

[She won't mention how scared she is for your future cooking, if you end up with this, even with instructions... She just smiles warmly and goes behind the counter, tying back her kimono sleeves before she even gets there.]

Let's see what we have to work with, hmm?

[Cooking's not so bad. She's actually sort of okay at that. At least, her stews have always been edible. It's this. The baking. The measurements and the presentation and making everything as perfect as Peeta always gets it. She's just not good at this.

And he's gone and left her to do a stupid, stupid mission.]

The kitchen is in the back. Peeta left it stocked.

Peeta... Is that the boy with the blonde hair? I always have such a hard time with keeping names and faces straight...

[Luckily, this time around she remembers because she loves getting things from the bakery. It's a relatively routine journey before she goes home. She moves toward the back where the supplies are, taking a book as she goes, ushering Katniss to follow.]

Yeah.

[Said quietly as she follows the woman. Near the door to the kitchen, she stops and turns around to the door. It's not so much worry of someone taking her weapons or the cat getting out. It's the worry that Peeta might enter while she's not there.

Ridiculous. Because he'd just come into the kitchen. He'd find her.

She takes a deep breath and pushes open the door to the kitchen. Walks in.]

He runs the bakery.

Mm, I see. Are you a co-worker, then? Or... maybe you're a friend?

[Because no offense Katniss, you don't seem like baking material here... :|;;]

A friend. [That's the simplest description as to what Peeta is to her. The easiest word to name. But she knows it's not just that. A friend isn't necessarily someone you're willing to die for.] He's from my District.

From what I can remember, he seemed like a good friend to have; very cheery and well-spoken. [Granted, that was just what she recalls from visiting the shop, but still...

More importantly-]

Has he... um, was he taken?

[That's a good enough description of Peeta, at least on the outside. It's what makes him so appealing to others. What made it so easy for him to go on the air with Caesar Flickerman and win over the hearts of Panem.

That makes her grin, even if the question makes her frown a second later.]

No. [She's not sure if that would be preferable or not.] He's on a mission.

I see... Has he been gone long?

I can watch for him as well, if you want. For when he returns.

Nearly two days.

[But it seems like so, so much longer. She should never have let him go. Never.]

He should be back soon. He said it wouldn't be for very long.

I see. So you decided to help with the bakery until he returns.

[Not a question; it's clear why you're here, missy.]

You're a good friend to him, doing as much as you can like this.

[The rain kept her from hunting. Her own nerves kept her from remaining idle. It had, at least, seemed like a good idea at the time. Something she can do for him. Even if now, it seems like more of a mess than anything.

She shrugs off the compliment, feeling it unnecessary.]

Peeta deserves it.

Mm. [She starts collecting books and moves to the back, and then works to collect what she can see of the ingredients.] Alright, then—first step is to have the measuring cups and spoons. We can't very well put in the right amount of everything if we can't measure it, right?

[Right. She gives a quick nod before looking around for the cups and spoons. Her brief search gives way to the sink, where she picks up the flour covered measuring tools. Sheepishly,]

Let me wash them quickly.

[She nods, smiling. You're not gonna find anything but understanding, with this one. She knows what it's like to stare at something and just not know how to proceed.] It's alright. You're not used to baking, right? You'd be surprised how many people here aren't familiar with it, let alone cooking.

[She looks up from the water and shakes her head quickly. No, not used to baking at all. Her mother would make loaves from the tessera Katniss would receive for the entering her name multiple times in the reaping. It was one of the few things her mother was capable of doing in those years between her father's death and the 74th Hunger Games. She never had to learn.]

I can cook. [Sort of. Well enough that the meal wouldn't be horrible.] But Peeta usually bakes.

Mm. He's a very good baker at that; I would love to learn a few recipes from him, but I'm not so sure I'd remember them—I wouldn't want to waste any time with a mind like mine. [Well, she's got everything prepared! The mixing and measuring will be the next step, she imagines. Based on what she's reading, anyway.]

[She walks over with the cleaned cup and spoons and places them next to the ingredients. She has to agree. Peeta is a very good baker. Better than his father ever was.

And he's also one of the most patient people she's ever met.]

He could write down the recipes for you. He wouldn't mind.

Oh, that would be wonderful—I think that'll have to wait until he's home and relaxing for a bit, though. For now, let's get started, shall we?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only