baked.
starer for: @thefetchingfletcher
Sugar still clings to the walls of the monastery. The cloyingly sweet scent of fallen fruit is now all that remains of the legendary Second Pie War. Catching a faint whiff of blueberry on her way to class is enough to make her mouth water. Ilyana sighs dreamily. Mmmmm, devouring plate after plate of fruit pies sounded so much more appealing than listening to the professor drone on about axe techniques. What need of learning proper axe holding drills did a mage have? You can’t cook things with an axe! A quick little fire spell here and tada! slightly roasted fish in an instant. Or apples…cooked inside a crispy brown crust…with a dusting of cinnamon…
Ilyana presses an arm into her stomach to prevent disrupting the class. Tiger roar-level tummy growling won’t get her out of lessons. Disappointed, she opens up her snack pouch, pulling out an orange. The peel curls into an unbroken spiral underneath her careful movements. A couple nearby classmates shoot her curious glances; she ignores them in favor of munching happily away. Oooo, an orange pie! With chocolate! Or, or, what about vanilla custard? Custard pie…
Chatter explodes among the students. Huh? Half an orange slice sticking between her teeth, Ilyana returns from her daydreams. Is class over already? Well, food is more important than non-magic related combat. She chomps down on the last half of her orange while gathering up her belongings. Plucking the orange peel off her desk, she gently rests it on top of a bush. The birds will appreciate the small gift. (More than she will. Fruit peels do not taste delicious).
Given that she wasted half of her class time day-dreaming about pies, it’s no surprise she finds herself heading in the direction of the kitchens.
Cooks bent over boiling pots spared her a friendly wave. Ilyana waves back. No need to steal when she’s on good terms with the staff. Remembering everyone’s names is a lost cause, but she at least knows their faces.
“What are you bak—oh.” Ilyana stops abruptly at the purple haired boy puttering busily away with the flour. She’s positive she doesn’t recognize him. “Um…is it a pie?”