𝕿his school was one of prestige and was internally full of opportunities that Silver knew would be difficult to get in his homeland. The difficulty of working a rice cooker with a timer in his home did not escape him as he learned how to use it, and it did not settle his nerves when he decided to move on from this line of thinking. Cooking is easier here and more foolproof. Cooking will be harder with his consistent drowsiness and easily lulled fatigue, but it's nothing Silver can fix without doing something major like powering it himself when back in the woods. Put a pin in that.
He had an idea that some had chuckled at, but at least he was given the greenlight and began as close as possible to the deadline he could.
The cutting had been easy, and marinating had been a struggle during the preparation, but the seasoning was easier when everyone left him to his own devices after getting the dinner area ready. Repeat that just enough for their inner circle, and that made it just a tad bit more difficult. Keeping the idea ready, warm, and fresh by making it so close to when Sebek was supposed to come back from visiting the other students on campus was a good idea, but Silver felt unusually... nervous. Was it because his idea was the first wave of Sebek coming back for the evening and he had to serve them all?
Or was it because this was only his third fish dish he's made?
By the time he finally plates all the salmon carpaccio and has two of them on his forearms and two in his hands to take them out to the table, he's caught before he can make it to the table. With the plates steadily on his arms, he tries to minimally turn his head to address his fellow countryman.
"𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤, 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲. I'll have our lunch on the table after this, and I hope your birthday goes satisfactorily for you." He gives a small smile but really does want to put these down. It's then he remembers that Sebek enjoys giving help and asks the other politely, "Can I get a hand with these plates? I don't want to drop them."
THE SCENT REMINDED HIM OF HOME, or as close to home as it could get. cutting & cleaning fish beside the river with his grandfather, ones that they had spent the entire day to catch. it was his favorite pastime — few of them that he was willing to share with his youngest grandson, who seemed to have a penchant for anything he could learn from his elder. dishes made from fish weren’t uncommon in the zigvolt household, not when he was bringing home various catches frequently to impress & out - do his own siblings, as if there was a bit of a competition to it.
returning to diasomnia’s hall, only to be greeted with the sight of silver both hand’s occupied with plates — even balancing two between his forearms. it was a miracle that none had yet to fall. the smell was not to be mistaken, a familiar dish that he favored since he was young.
“ all of this inconvenience for a surprise? ” shaking his head for a moment, he struggles to rationalize the efforts put forth for a mere happy birthday for himself. hardly ungrateful, rather a means to shield the impending embarrassment for his lack of ability to realize the plan that was put into motion. had he been asked what his favorite dish was ahead of time? or rather, it was simply something that was recalled easily after years of camaraderie.
it is hardly a question that needs to be posed, taking the plates that are barely holding on. “ if everyone is to be invited, then we must ensure the dining area is set up properly. trying to do all of the work on your own behalf, what kind of lazy human do you mistake me for? shying away from duties on a day of celebration would be shameful. today, we work as equals. ”
