|
Post by Micaela on Sept 15, 2009 19:35:46 GMT -5
"I'm sure it'll eventually happen, it's just..." *She sighed and sipped her tea.*
|
|
|
Post by Adrien Baillon on Sept 15, 2009 19:45:10 GMT -5
"Yeah. You don't see a lot of guys, I guess. 'Cept me and Adrian, and..." He nodded in understanding, taking a preoccupied sip of tea.
|
|
|
Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 23, 2009 18:18:00 GMT -5
She wasn't in her room.
Adrian had spent the last two minutes talking to a shut door, at first very calmly and then with increasing bad temper at her apparent silence, and then had finally forced the door open to sort her out himself, only to find her bed empty and her bathroom deserted.
He was suddenly seized by a sharp and irrational fear that she had gone outside alone, where her little body would be quickly swallowed up by the all-encompassing whiteness and cold-
No, he told himself. Micaela was too intelligent for that.
It was beginning to really, really bother him how genuinely attached to the girl he was becoming. Adrian hadn't bargained on that part of the plan at all, but since Micaela had entered into his life, he had begun to think of her with ever-increasing frequency and concern. His life had already had a perfectly adequate center and purpose before her- why was she so talented at usurping its position?
The idea of life without Micaela was intolerable.
This was probably how a parent was supposed to feel toward a child, he reasoned- but Micaela was not a child. She may have been young enough to be his daughter, but their actual relationship was an uneasy mixture of parent-child interaction and a business partnership, and Adrian realized that this concept was quickly growing stale. It would just figure, wouldn't it, that his little protegée, his heir, would instead take on the role of a daughter to him...
A few minutes of searching for her lead him to her voice, and just as he was about to enter the kitchen (what would she ever want to do in the kitchen?), Adrian actually heard what she was saying.
He stood in silence, careful to keep his body language controlled, casual, certainly not the posture of an eavesdropper, and listened.
Adrian's normally calm, implacable face slowly emptied of all expression the more Micaela spoke.
She was unhappy. Desperately unhappy.
(And yet the cold formality with which she spoke of her real parents brought to mind the similarly cursory manner in which Adrian had once spoken of his own mother and father, when far younger and more given to even a slight elaboration on who they were and what they did. Was Micaela always this polite, or did she carry a similar burden upon her shoulders as Adrian's forbears had foisted upon him?)
He couldn't listen any longer. Damn her, damn her, damn her, for being the center of his world and not even caring.
Angry at Micaela, and angrier at himself, he walked away.
|
|
|
Post by Micaela on Sept 26, 2009 18:29:17 GMT -5
**THE NEXT DAY**
*It was a much better day, and she was in a much better mood. There was, she had decided, absolutely nothing to do at Karnak (that wouldn't eventually drive her insane) except cook. So cook she did--today, it was beef stew and chocolate chip cookies. The stew was in the oven cooking, so that left mixing the cookie dough.*
*She was actually dressed like she might belong in Adrian Veidt's house today, in designer jeans rather than sweatpants or leggings for the first time since she'd got to Antarctica, and a Columbia t-shirt. She was also singing '99 Luftballons' very loudly, switching between German and English.*
*There was a lot of dancing and vocally-imitated instrumentation.*
|
|
|
Post by Daniel Dreiberg on Sept 26, 2009 18:39:22 GMT -5
Dan, who had left Megan to do, whatever it was that she wanted to do, decided to roam the halls humming off tune to himself. As he passed the kitchen, he couldn't help but take a step backwards and stand in the doorway watching Micaela with a soft smile on his face.
|
|
|
Post by Micaela on Sept 26, 2009 18:41:52 GMT -5
*When she spun around, she caught sight of him and paused, turning red with a mixing spoon and one hand.*
"Oh, um, hidan, I was just... makingcookies." *She waved the spoon as if to emphasize this.*
|
|
|
Post by Daniel Dreiberg on Sept 26, 2009 18:44:56 GMT -5
He chuckled and stuffed his hands in his pockets nervously "They smell good."
|
|
|
Post by Micaela on Sept 26, 2009 18:45:59 GMT -5
"You can, erm, have some of the dough if you want?" *She offered the bowl, which had some leftover dough in it.*
|
|
|
Post by Daniel Dreiberg on Sept 26, 2009 18:53:07 GMT -5
Dan's eyebrow's shot up "Is that so?" He walked over to her and looked down at the dough "Chocolate chip?"
|
|
|
Post by Micaela on Sept 26, 2009 18:55:00 GMT -5
*She nodded.*
"Uh-huh. They're my favorite because it's impossible to screw them up."
|
|
|
Post by Daniel Dreiberg on Sept 26, 2009 18:57:12 GMT -5
"I heard that" he laughed and stuck a finger in and scooped up some of the dough "delicious. Did you do it from scratch? Cause I always, uh just use the pre-made boxes."
|
|
|
Post by Micaela on Sept 26, 2009 18:59:48 GMT -5
"Yeah..." *She was distracted by the fact that he'd put his finger in his mouth. She licked some of the cookie dough off of the spoon.* "My mom convinced me place-and-bake cookies had poisonous chemicals in them when I was little. As a result, I make everything from scratch."
|
|
|
Post by Daniel Dreiberg on Sept 26, 2009 19:04:18 GMT -5
Dan smiled and grabbed a napkin to wipe his finger on and nodded "Ahh, well I guess that would make me want to make things from scaratch too."
|
|
|
Post by Micaela on Sept 26, 2009 19:07:34 GMT -5
*She smiled dumbly. Was the room a little too warm? Had she left an oven door open?*
*The timer beeped and she turned suddenly to go get the cookies out. In putting the spoon down on the floury counter, she wound up with flour on her hands and subsequently her cheek as she brushed hair out of her face. She grabbed a spatula and an oven mitt and set about putting the cookies on the counter to cool.*
"I just hope the stew doesn't undercook; my mom always used to take it out for me..."
|
|
|
Post by Daniel Dreiberg on Sept 26, 2009 19:12:10 GMT -5
Dan wrapped his napkin up and looked over at Micaela about to agree with her when he noticed the flour on her face. "Oh, uh here" he stumbled about to grab another napkin and wet it with water from the sink "you've got a bit of flour... here." He reached forward and shakily began wiping her face.
|
|