Broken Souls (Peregrine x Levy)

Karl received the dumping with his brows still wrinkled, wondering if he was about to start regretting his decision to help. It had been many decades since he'd last cooked anything, never being one to believe that food was one of those stupid 'it's the journey that matters, not the destination' metaphors. Karl enjoyed eating, not cooking. Yet here he was, stuck cooking so that he could make sure he was eating something up to his standards in a reasonable length of time.

Yet for all his internal complaints, Karl's fingers were smoothly moving across the dumpling, folding one side into small, neat pleats, before a dumpling that looked as perfect as something folded by a machine landed on the tray. It's cleanliness created a stark contrast with the few other dumplings that were already on the pan, and somewhat calmed Karl's frustration. It proved that, even if he didn't enjoy it, his efforts were absolutely necessary.

By this point, Hana had already prepared the next dumpling, and he quickly received it and began folding again, his fingers never slowing or faltering. As for Hana's complaints about his description of her preparation, Karl acted as though he couldn't even hear her. It wasn't as though they deserved any response, especially because even Karl wasn't one to seriously argue over semantics.

However, as the girl continued to speak, his smoothly folding fingers finally faltered slightly, pausing for an instant before he was able to once more resume creating the dumping. If he was being honest, her thanks bewildered him. Karl wasn't one who was ignorant about grudges and gratitudes, and he was almost certain he'd done nothing to be worthy of thanks in this process. If it wasn't for the fact that her efforts just happened to overlap with his own chosen mealtime, he would never have helped her with the process, no matter how poorly the dumplings would have turned out.

Perhaps that was the reason her gratitude, which was neither superficial nor disingenuous, left him momentarily flustered. His head turned away from her, looking down as his lips pressed into a thin line.

"At least you realize they were going to be crappy," he said, voice slightly strained. However, as he placed the next dumpling down, he sighed. "Well, we're going to be stuck with each other for a while, puella. Like it or not. So if you're going to be coming up with some unklug cooking scheme in the future, make sure you don't also lock down its ability to cook for me in the process."

"Unklug" - "Foolish, unwise" (German)
 
Hana looked up at him as she assembled the next dumpling, before she chuckled a little. "Okay, I can do that. Sorry for hijacking your kitchen. I think I'm already regretting it what with how many dishes are piling up." She said as she leaned back to glance at the scullery. That was a problem for post-meal Hana to deal with. She leaned forward a little, tilting her head to look at him as he worked, his eyes turned away from her.

"And if we are going to be stuck with each other for a while, you could try to use my name. It's Hana, not puella, whatever that means. What language even is that?" She told him in as stern a voice she could muster, handing him the next dumpling.

In general, she could tune out whatever words he spoke when he code switched, and she would be able to get the gist of what he was saying without having to ask him to translate, through context and tone. He had called her a handful of colorful names during her stay, but he seemed to have taken to calling her puella most. It was clear he didn't want to have anything to do with her, but the least he could do was learn her name.

Since Karl was able to pleat them at an astonishingly fast rate, they were able to get through the stack rather quickly with little to no pork left. The tray was huddled full of fat little dumplings, all beautifully crimped and evenly placed. She was so hungry at that point in the night that she was just about ready to shove them raw into her mouth.

"Okay! Now, to cook them!" Her mouth was practically watering. "Do you prefer them steamed or fried?" She asked, moving the tray next to the stove, preparing the area. "I'll make a dipping sauce while they cook." For a moment, she paused, staring at the tray.

"...How do you make dipping sauce for dumplings, again?" Hana turned around to look at him sheepishly. She knew it was made with soy and some other stuff, but she didn't exactly know the specifics of 'other stuff,' and she only realized that when she was faced with having to actually make it herself.
 
"It's Latin," Karl replied flatly to Hana's slightly peeved statement. However, his answer gave absolutely no judgement on whether or not Karl would be changing his behavior going forward. Which, considering his general attitude, was tantamount to a denial. It wasn't that Karl didn't know Hana's name, he was well aware of it at this point. It was simply that he really couldn't be bothered. It wasn't as though there was a big collection of girls here it was possible to get confused with.

Luckily, with the distractions dumplings provided, Hana didn't seem to feel the need to continue that particular conversation, which Karl likely would have outright ignored had she tried. The only reason he even bothered to clarify the language itself was because it was Latin, his mother tongue, and one he hadn't gotten a chance to use in actual conversation since the sixth century.

When the dumplings were finished being folded, Karl once more headed over to the sink, washing his hands clean of the faint, sticky starch that was clinging to his fingers. "Just steam them," he all but instructed, too lazy to clarify that he wasn't convinced Hana wouldn't burn them if she tried to fry them. Instead, he settled back into the seat he'd been forced to vacate to help pleat the dumplings. With this, he'd be able to eat in ten to fifteen minutes.

Resting his head back against the wall, Karl allowed his eyes to drop closed. A part of him was worried he'd need to keep an eye on Hana for this part of the process, to make sure she didn't peek at the dumplings while they were steaming and let out the water, or something similar, but for the moment, he just wanted to rest.

"Soy sauce, rice vinegar, sugar, salt, garlic, chili flakes," Karl reeled off smoothly, not bothering to open his eyes yet. "Just don't overdo the vinegar and it'll be fine."
 
"Steamed it is." Hana announced, squatting down to check each of the cabinets for a steaming basket and a wok. She nodded as he shot out the ingredient list and curt instructions for dumpling sauce, slipping her phone out of her back pocket and sliding it into her hand. There was no doubt she'd forget them if she didn't write it down, and she had a feeling that it wasn't a good idea to ask ask him to repeat himself.

"Soy sauce, rice vinegar, sugar, salt, garlic, chili flakes..." She repeated the list of ingredients in a mumble, tapping open her notes app. Now bobbing her head from side to side, repeating the list in a more sing songy voice, she rhythmically typed out all the ingredients with one hand low to the counter as she poked her head into the next cabinet.

Hana set her phone flat onto the counter once finished, her humming ceasing, and continued the search until she found a very seasoned wok and a traditional bamboo steaming basket. Water into the wok, heat on high, steamer on top, dumplings in, covered and lined on top of a thin layer of Napa Cabbage. Since the steamer had multiple tiers, she was able to stuff all of the dumplings into each of the three baskets.

She smiled in satisfaction as she looked at it, before stalking off to a different counter to prepare the dipping sauce. Giving the list on her phone a glance, she grabbed all the seasonings that she needed, most of them already out on the counter. She looked around for something to hold the sauce in.

"Ah, dip bowl... dip bowl..." She looked in a few of the cabinets above her head, standing on the tips of her toes to reach. Perhaps shutting down the kitchen's ability to help her was, indeed, mildly counterproductive. At home, she would keep everything on the lower shelves so she could reach without too much trouble, but she was nowhere near home at that moment.

Sighing, she hoisted herself over the counter, balancing herself on her knees. Upon finding a set of small porcelain bowls, she exclaimed a triumphant "Aha!" before she took two and set them down carefully, climbing down from the countertop. One for Karl and one for herself.

For the sauce, she did as he instructed, eyeballing each of the ingredients as she poured them into both dishes in equal parts, making sure to be conservative with the vinegar. Once finished, she dipped a pair of chopsticks into one of the bowls and into her mouth to taste. It felt about right, so she set them aside and turned back to the dumplings.

After another fifteen minutes, she pulled the top off the steaming basket, a puff of the warm air hitting her face. She stumbled back, waving the air in front of her. Careful not to touch the hot bamboo, she pulled one dumpling from the bed onto a saucer, and blowed on it before tasting for doneness. Covering her mouth as she chewed, she practically squealed in joy.

They were done and they were perfect.

Hana quickly emptied the baskets onto three plates, and skipped over to Karl place one in front of him, along with a bowl of dipping sauce and a pair of fresh chopsticks. "There you are! Hopefully this will make up for taking your kitchen."

Smiling happily, she moved back to the counter to grab her plate and bowl, leaving the last plate on the countertop in case either of them wanted seconds.

"Jal mukgesseum ni da!" She said, taking her seat across from him. Almost naturally, she pulled her legs up to sit cross legged, holding up her chopsticks eagerly but refraining from eating yet. She looked across the table at Karl, waiting expectantly for him to taste it.

"Jal mukgesseum ni da"- literally "I will eat well." Said before meals to show appreciation for the food (Korean)
 
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After listing the ingredients and hearing Hana move aside, muttering to herself in a sing-song voice the whole time, Karl basically disregarded everything else Hana was doing. Of course, it was impossible for him to actually forget Hana's presence, but he instead chose to do his best to disregard her.

Unfortunately, Karl was forced to acknowledge that it was much harder for him to ignore the singing, muttering girl than it was the usual inanimate activity that filled the kitchen when the house was preparing a meal. A sudden clatter of dishes caused his eyes to unconsciously spring open, only to see Hana scrambling across the counter, rummaging through the cabinets as she searched for… dip bowls, if her rambling was any indication.

Sighing to himself, Karl looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn't even begin to guess at what possessed the girl for her to think that clambering on surfaces that weren't meant for standing on, digging through cabinets for something she didn't know the location of, was a fun endeavor. Instead, she could easily have just allowed the house to help her get things that were out of reach, or find the things that she didn't know where they were. In the end, he could only chalk it up to the same thing that made her think cooking the food herself or washing the dishes herself was worthwhile.

When Hana finally got off the counters and settled in to making the dipping sauce, Karl was able to relax himself further. The noises she made preparing the dish were much closer to the sounds he was used to, and for one moment, Karl was actually able to relax. The smell of the cooking dumplings was gradually filling the kitchen, stimulating his appetite, while the sound of boiling water gradually allowed his thoughts to wander.

How long had it been since a real person had cooked in this kitchen? It had been a while, that was for sure. But once upon a time, Karl had actually enjoyed watching other people cook. In his mind's eye, he saw the silhouette of a woman in a frilly green petticoat moving around the kitchen as though she was dancing, her long, honey-blonde hair pulled up into countless ringlets on top of her head, in a casual imitation of proper French courtly fashion.

A sudden burst of noise from the pot caused Karl's eyes to flash open again, and he saw Hana reeling backwards from the pot, waving her hand to clear away the steam that had flooded from the opened lid. The elegant figure in his mind was almost instantly shattered in the face of the girl's clumsy movements, and gleeful squeals as she tried one of the dumplings.

Standing up from the lowered seat in the counter, Karl skulked his way over to the table, posture lazy, before once more sliding into a seat at the head of the table in the middle of the room, where he'd been sitting the very first time Hana had stumbled her way into his kitchen. He slid forward on the chair, legs extended under the table, back slouched into a curve with only the very tops of his shoulders touching the seat back.

Only when Hana set the plate in front of him did he sit up properly, fluidly picking up the chopsticks, grabbing the dumpling, dousing it into the dipping sauce, and then shoving the whole thing into his mouth in one bite. His face was completely unreadable, but Karl nodded slightly. They were far from the best dumplings he'd ever had, but they were entirely edible, and at the moment, that was all that Karl was concerned about.

It was only when he'd picked up the second dumpling and had it halfway to his mouth that Karl suddenly noticed that Hana was staring at him. "What? Are you going to ask me if you can eat again? Or perhaps if it's poisoned? Goddamn, girl, just eat your food."
 
One of the reasons Hana waited for him to take the first bite was, well, to be polite, even if she was in glaringly impolite company. But the second, and more significant reason, was that she wanted to see his reaction. He'd spent the majority of the time in the kitchen taking fat dumps on her cooking abilities, and while his criticisms were usually true, they were still quite mean.

Leaned forward onto the table, she watched him intently as he stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. She blinked, a little taken a back, while peering at his jaw in astonishment. Hana registered his nod—a nod of approval, she decided, and smiled. It left a little to be desired, indeed, but it certainly was better than another reprimand, or no reaction at all. So, she smiled, and nodded back.

But alas, her smile waned when he spoke again, noticing her staring, and a pouty frown spread on her face.

"Hana." She corrected, waving her chopsticks at him in discontent. The mild dent he put in her excitement was minimal, and she was more than eager to take him up on that suggestion. She tapped her chopsticks together thoughtfully as she decided which dumpling to strike at first, and doused it in dipping sauce before scarfing it down.

Squealing a little, she covered her mouth with her utensil as she chewed happily. She had been craving a little bit of home since she stepped off the flight into Maine, and that soul test with Karl had really done a number on her sense of self, so a warm, familiar meal like this soothed her in all the right places.

Hana almost teared up a little as she continued shoveling dumpling after dumpling into her mouth. "Seriously though." She paused to swallow the last one, before looking up at her table mate, a hint of a smile crossing her features.

"Thank you for helping me. It means a lot. I know that probably doesn't make a lot of sense, because it's just dumplings and it's not that deep, but it..." She looked down at the plate, a little flustered. "It's important to me, and I've kind of had a really crappy week, and so if they had turned out bad, I would probably be really sad. So I really appreciate it." Glancing up, she realized what she had just told him, and her cheeks swelled a shade of pink.

"Anyway! You don't have to respond to that. I'll go and clean up now." She said quickly, feeling a little embarrassed by her sudden outburst. He didn't need to know all that—in fact, he definitely couldn't care less. Turning to face away from him, she scooped up her plate and moved to pick up the rest of the utensils that peppered the countertops, shaking away the embarrassment.
 
Karl didn't eat his food at the same speed as Hana, who seemed to be attempting to inhale the food rather than chew it, but he still ate with a quick and neat efficiency that wouldn't take long to empty out all the dumplings on his plate. As his belly was filled and his taste buds were no longer gentled by hunger, he was finding more things to pick wrong with them. The stuffing was slightly over-seasoned, the dough slightly over-sticky considering they were freshly made. However, satisfying his stomach also made him far less inclined to object at this point, as the fact that Hana had locked down his kitchen was closer to a non-issue now that he'd eaten.

Focused on his food, Karl had all but ignored Hana's existence at this point, until the sound of her voice caused him to pause, chopsticks that had been filled with a dumpling only moments before dropping away from his mouth. He lifted one brow at her for the interruption, Karl hadn't been the type to enjoy having to speak during meals for centuries at this point, but found himself somewhat frozen as he listened to her further expression of gratitude.

It had been one thing when she'd thanked him for helping the first time. However, this second rendition seemed even further ladened with genuine gratitude than her first deliverance, which had at least been tempered with a trace of jesting. And, quite frankly, Karl was glad that Hana ran off before he had to figure out how exactly to respond to her.

In that moment, Karl felt more than a bit ambivalent about the whole situation. On the one hand, Hana had intruded into his home, forced herself into his life to get his help with a situation that had nothing to do with him, and had lied to him—potentially repeatedly—during the process. On the other hand, Karl was well aware that there were people who had liked and respected him, people he had once been working to help, who had reacted far less generously to his attitude and personality than Hana did. If it wasn't for all the aforementioned issues that made Karl so predisposed against her, he probably would have acknowledged that she was one of the kindest and most gentle people he'd ever met.

If only she wasn't in his goddamn house.

Standing up with the remainder of his plate of dumplings, Karl decided he most assuredly did not want to still be in the kitchen when Hana came back out for the remainder of the dishes. Not only did he have the nagging impression the atmosphere would be wildly uncomfortable, but he was worried that Hana would suddenly change her mind about expecting some sort of reciprocation for her gratitude.

Extending his plate towards the second dish of dumplings that was still resting near the hearth stove, Karl once again frowned when the dumplings didn't fly over to his own dish, before grabbing his chopsticks and walking over to the plate. He dished four more for himself, glowered towards the door that led to the scullery and the girl who had just walked through it, and left the kitchen with his plate to finish the remainder of his meal in peace.

Hopefully the house wouldn't rule that his plate was required in whatever conditions Hana had set for the kitchen's reactivation after she was done with her little project.
 
  • Sympathy & Compassion
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In the scullery, Hana stood in a mildly discombobulated state, pressing her hands to her cheeks in an attempt to calm down from her aforementioned fluster. The image of a frozen Karl, dumpling halted halfway to his mouth while she blabbered on about her feelings, was stuck in her mind. Ugh. She was almost tempted to seek out the lotus pond to erase the memory.

A few deep breaths later, she turned towards the doorway, deciding to take a small peek into the kitchen before entering. She scanned the dining area and then the cooking area, before determining the lack of a Karl anywhere in sight: an empty kitchen. For a moment, she was relieved, having escaped what would likely be a painfully awkward situation. But then, for a second, there was something else. Something akin to a stinging sense of a disappointment in her chest at his absence, and subsequent lack of response. Just for a second.

No, that's stupid. She shook her head, leaving to gather the rest of the dishes. During the whole dumpling making process, she seemed to have forgotten that she was dealing with Karl The Evil Overlord, not Karl the Retired Sous Chef. He was malicious, he was out for heads, and he'd have hers on a stick if she wasn't careful enough.

That was what she was supposed to think, and there were times when she was inclined to believe it, but seeing him attempt to negotiate the terms of the kitchen with her through gritted teeth, and give her a small affirmative nod at her first kind of solo attempt at mandu made her question herself. As far as she knew, manipulative and cunning people were supposed to be overly charming and performative, but that man's repeated show of bare-bones brutal honesty was nowhere near either.

And anyway, what kind of evil overlord locks themselves up for that many years? Surely it doesn't take that long to come up with a plot for world domination, or some other psychotic scheme. He said he spent his time reading and studying, which is probably what she would do too if she didn't leave her house for decades.

Hana sighed. She had begun cleaning the dishes while buried in her thoughts, and she realized that with the amount of plates and bowls she'd piled up, she would likely be there for a while.

By the time she had finally finished rinsing, cleaning, rinsing again, and drying all the dishes, it was late into the night. She'd made sure the kitchen had been set back to normal before she looked at the leftover dumplings, trying to decide what to do with them. There was no refrigerator in the house as far as she was aware.

After a request for a cold place to keep the leftovers, a small box with a neatly folded square of cloth came in from one of the kitchen walls. The box settled on the counter while the cloth flew down to rest on top of the dumplings. When she opened the door of the box, she found the air was indeed colder inside, and she figured she was supposed to wrap the leftovers in the cloth and stick the whole affair into the box, which is exactly what she did.

Having restored the kitchen to its former state, Hana happily danced back to her room with the magical mini makeshift refrigerator in tow.

That night was the first in a number of days that she was able to catch a somewhat peaceful rest. During her three day vanishing act, Hana had slept a lot, sure, but her body was full to the brim with tension. She was sleeping, but she wasn't really resting. Even that night, before she drifted off into slumber, her head filled with conflicted thoughts of the cube, of Karl, and of what she could possibly make out of six months.

==

When she woke up the next morning, her eyes fluttered open slowly, and she squinted as she adjusted to the light of the room. Just as suddenly, her body sprouted with the aches and pains that had made themselves apparent to her yesterday, grieving her manic rampage around the house.

"Owww," She groaned, limply grabbing her shoulder. Waking up to bruising pain twice in a row was a good enough deterrent to not go slamming her body into doors anymore. If she wanted out, it looked like she'd have to channel her inner Bruce Banner rather than her inner Hulk.

Looking around the room, her eyes fell to the cube, then to the cold box sitting on her nightstand. A smile crept up on her groggy face.

"Hello, breakfast."

After a trip to the bathroom to freshen up, she grabbed her leftovers and skipped over to the kitchen to reheat them, allowing the house to do it for her that time. Her breakfast that day consisted of apple juice and dumplings, and by god it was the best breakfast she'd had all week.

She would spend the rest of her morning exploring what the house had to offer, this time not in hulking out in hysterics. Multiple bars, multiple libraries, lots of studies and displays, and a lot of curious, surreal-feeling rooms that she would definitely have to ask Karl about later. By the time her hunger came creeping back, she had wandered her way into the kitchen.
 
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The next morning, Karl woke early to the sound of a faint ringing filling his ears. It wasn't until he'd groggily sat up that he realized the noise wasn't simply some disembodied buzz, but one of the house's several alarms.

It took him almost a second to dig through his various memories to be able to identify what kind of alarm it was, but that didn't stop him from getting out of bed and shrugging his way into proper clothing. Finally, he was able to pick out the details. Non emergency, restless high-consciousness artifact, standard countermeasures had no effect.

His very first thought was of Hana. Had the girl taken that cube somewhere she shouldn't have? Logically the house should never have let her near any particularly high-consciousness artifacts, but some strange coincidence might have happened. Dismissing his spurious assumptions, Karl left the room.

It took him hours to calm the restless artifact, which turned out to be a righteous divine sword. Capable of dealing damage directly to the soul, it rendered all forms of physical defense invalid. However, the sword also came with its own code, and was able to observe and judge the actions of its wielder. Should the actions of its user ever not meet its standards of justice, it would reflect any damage it dealt back onto the unworthy user.

After many hundreds of years of inactivity, the sword seemed to have grown more sensitive, and would occasionally take notice of unjust actions elsewhere in the world. If several of the perception numbing artifacts had no effect, the house would alert Karl, and he would have to step in personally to make a judgement on how to handle the situation.

The sword was particularly restless, and by the time Karl was able to pacify it back into slumber it was well towards midday. Finally freed from his task, Karl immediately made his way towards the kitchen for a late brunch.

By the time he arrived, the kitchen had already begun its preparation, cutting a loaf of heavy bread into thick slices. On the stove, spinach and artichoke were melting together with cheese, creating a rich spread, while a few other cheeses and fruit gels were being cut into neat cubes and laid out on a plate with a pile of crackers.

With a sigh of relief, Karl slumped down at the kitchen table. His kitchen was working properly again, and his meals were going to be punctual. It was a relief.

Just as the artichoke dip was starting to bubble on the stove, Karl heard the sound of faint footsteps coming from the hallway. Glancing out the archway that led into the kitchen, it didn't take long for him to spot Hana's dark-haired form. He sighed, and glanced away. It truly shouldn't be a surprise that they'd encounter each other most commonly in the kitchen. After all, mealtimes happened frequently, and there weren't as many places to go in the house for food as there was just about anything else.

Deciding he probably shouldn't just ignore her arrival, he waved vaguely towards the plate of crackers and cheese. "You're welcome to have some, if there's nothing specific you want to eat. The dip should be done in a couple more minutes."
 
Before stepping in, Hana caught a glance of both Karl, who sunk into his chair like he was becoming one with the table, and the meal the kitchen was preparing. Though her eyes were immediately drawn to the stove, attempting to determine what kind of food it was making, she listened to his aloof offer, and couldn't help but smile. It was one of the few (sort of) polite gestures he's shown her since her, frankly, traumatizing arrival. "Thank you, Karl." She raised her eyebrows at him.

"You're actually being nice to me for once, what a pleasant surprise." She teased, walking over to the platter to peck at some of the cheeses. Upon further inspection of the dip, she concluded that it looked like spinach and some other chunky bits blended into a creamy, garlicky and superbly cheesy base. She would definitely be helping herself to some of that once it was done.

Turning her attention back to the cheese plate, she scooped a bit of the red jam with a cracker and decided to nibble on that while she waited.

"Could I have some water? With ice, please." She directed the request to the kitchen, taking a handful of crackers as she walked to the table. Plopping down next to Karl, she thought about what else might satiate her stomach. While she was still hungry, she'd had somewhat of a heavy breakfast, so she wanted something on the lighter side for now. A glass of ice water settled in front of her as she continued munching on the crackers.

"Mm, you mentioned something yesterday about that German thing, right? It started with an 'M,' I think?" It had plastered perhaps the first genuine smile she'd seen on his perpetually scowling face, so it had to be worth a try. Besides, she didn't know a lot about German foods, or anything for that matter, so she wouldn't mind expanding her culinary palette.
 
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"Mett?" Karl asked, his brows momentarily rising in surprise. He stared at Hana for a second after she made the suggestion, trying to keep a straight face, yet still failing at keeping the corners of his lips from tugging up slightly.

"Sure," he agreed a moment later, the faint smile gone. "That'd be a good thing to add to the meal, seeing as it works best as a spread. It'll fit right in with the artichoke dip."

Standing up, Karl gestured towards one of the cabinets, where a bowl flew out and landed in his hands. "The Germans love appending words together, so Mett on a bread roll is called mettbrötchen. Normally I'd have the kitchen prepare it from scratch, but it won't be done before the dip, so I'll just snag some pre-prepared."

Once he'd turned his back on Hana, his smile suddenly broke out again. Smirking to himself, Karl walked back towards the larder.

The kitchen was supplied by a few magical food-making artifacts, but none of them were particularly professional at preparing good food. They prepared adequate meals, but Kalr had considered it more than worth the time effort to make sure the kitchen would be able to cook properly. That was why these artifacts normally only contributed the raw ingredients. However, they were often fully capable of providing a proper meal in full, let alone the occasional specific dish like mett.

Less than a minute later, Karl returned from the back with his bowl filled with a pinkish dish, somewhere the color between meat and crushed tomatoes, filled with white flecks. BIts of onion and cracked spices were visible interspersed throughout. Karl set it down smoothly on the tables, before returning to his seat.

"The artichoke dip should be done in a minute or two, if you want to wait, but you're more than welcome to get started with that. I don't think the tastes will blend great."

As though to prove his point, Karl grabbed a slice of bread for himself, lavishly slathering it with a good quarter inch of the mett, before taking a bite himself.
 
  • According to Plan
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"That's the one!" Hana pointed an index finger at him as an enthusiastic affirmation. She turned her head to the side as Karl stalked away to prepare the dish, or well, more accurately, help the kitchen prepare the dish, and swung her legs absently as she observed his silhouette.

Finishing up the crackers, she nodded at Karl's abstractions about the dish, watching as the finished cheese platter floated graciously to the table. She popped a few more cubes of cheese in her mouth before Karl was finished with the dish.

When he set down the bowl, her eyes drifted to the pinkish dish and a small frown settled on her face. Pressing an unsure finger to her lips, she looked up at him for clarification on what exactly its contents were, but found him already slathering it onto a slice of bread. Truthfully, the speckled affair looked a little less than appetizing, but she thought it might be rude to ask what it was before trying it, so she squared her shoulders and followed suit after Karl.

She carefully spread on a thin layer of the mett onto a slice of bread, and looked up as she took the first bite. Chewing slowly, her face turned from thinly veiled apprehension to unexpected delight. The texture wasn't as bad as she was anticipating, and whatever spices he had thrown in there contrasted really nicely with the sharp taste of onion. Hana let out a pleased hum, covering her mouth before she spoke.

"Woah, this is actually really good! It's so flavorful." She gave Karl a contented smile, eyebrows arched up. It only took her another minute to bite through the rest of the slice, before she happily assembled herself another one. "What's this stuff made out of? It's literally like crack." She took a big bite from the new slice, pausing to swallow, before taking a sip of water. It really was quite addicting—she could see herself eating over half a loaf's worth of mett in that one sitting.
 
Karl had known long before he'd handed the dish to Hana that mett was rich and creamy, surprisingly smooth for as rough as the texture looked. Although it had a clearly meaty flavor, the whole thing was smoothed out by the softness of the dish overall. Add that to the fluffy bread, and it was a dish that waas undeniably easy to consume.

Even as he was preparing his own bread and taking a bite, Karl kept a careful eye on Hana, wondering if she was going to balk at the dish. However, it seemed his example set as good of a precident as he had hoped it would, as she followed suit behind him and put a layer of the mett on her own bread. All he'd been hoping to prove was that it was undeniably edible, and that he liked it, but perhaps she hadn't even been doubting that.

Karl's lips momentarily tugged up once more as he watched Hana take a bite, and her expression went from wariness to sudden pleasure. Just like with all the food he presented her, she was far more interested in eating it than asking questions, which suited Karl just perfectly for the moment. Only shortly after he'd eaten half his slice, the slowly bubbling pot of artichoke dip lifted itself of the stove, before it was delivered to the table with a hotpad underneath it. The entire dish was still lightly steaming.

Karl still happily finished his mettbrötchen while allowing the dish to cool. It was as he'd told Hana, there was little chance the tastes would blend all that well. It might have worked with a sharper cheese, but it was far too late to adjust for that now.

Only once his first piece was gone did Karl grab some of the bread, casually dragging it through the dip before moving the sopping piece over to his own plate. Hoever, his eyes continued to regularly drift to Hana. "You like it?" he asked, voice somewhat playful. "The Germans certainly know their meats. I don't think there's any other culture that has something quite similar, and they've got lots of other unique dishes as well. That particular one, for instance..." for a half an instant, Karl's voice seemed to falter slightly, but then whatever it was that was affecting him was gone again, his face straight as a mask. "Is made of raw pork."
 
Hana nodded her head at his question in bubbly enthusiasm. She was a little more than pleased that he coincidentally happened to be making himself lunch at the same time that she stumbled into the kitchen—which was certainly a first. Normally she'd be avoiding him like the plague, but neither she nor her perpetually hungry stomach were about to complain when he was presenting her with undeniably good food.

Happily munching on the slice of bread in her hands, she turned to face him as he spoke. At the first mention of German meats, Hana raised an inquisitive brow at him. She was finishing up the last bits of the slice before she brought the glass of water to her mouth, her eyes still looking over at Karl's face as he spoke.

It took her a second to process the information he had so kindly kept from her until this point, but once she did, she audibly choked on her water, nearly spitting out half a mouthful.

"You said raw pork?" Hana slammed down the glass, her voice bordering incredulous. "What the heck, Karl!" She brought up both her hands to cover her mouth. You could've seen her face run through each stage of grief, shock and panic flashing across her features. Oh, the absolute horror. It wasn't until a few moments later that she remembered what Karl had told her yesterday, about the safety and quality of the meat products his kitchen makes, but her brows still furrowed together in disgust. Almost just as suddenly, as she continued to replay the moment in her mind, her head shot up at him.

"You little devil! Is this because I freaked out about you eating the raw dumpling pork yesterday? That was out of concern, Karl!" Hana brought one hand up to cup her forehead, covering her eyes in vexation. With his desert dry sense of humor, she couldn't possibly fathom that he was capable of practical jokes. But clearly, he had been deliberately keeping that bit of information from her until she was two slices into enjoying the mett spread, waiting in anticipation for the apparent big reveal.
 
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At Hana's sudden outburst, Karl's shoulders began to shake slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line. As her head dropped, his eyes were trained on her face, watching the wave of emotions that crossed her face. However, it wasn't until she lifted her head to reprimand him that he finally began to laugh in full.

Karl's laughter was not loud or uproarious. One might even go so far as to call it quite restrained. However, with his eyes forcibly narrowed into a squint, there was no denying that it was genuine and heartfelt. One hand lifted unconsciously, covering the center of his lips with a hooked index finger. Barely managing to restrain his laughter for a moment, Karl stared at Hana, who'd covered her face, apparently unwilling to look at him.

"You... asked f-for it," he barely managed to articulate, voice still trembling slightly with humor. "You walked in here— and you asked me for it!"

That seemed to be too much for the man, who once more bent forward under the weight of his laughter. It was only when the house placed a mug of tea on the table next to him that Karl finally seemed to get enough of his joke. He straightened, grabbing the mug and taking a slow sip for it.

Finally fully calm, he shrugged slightly at Hana, although a smile was still tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's not like I was planning on forcing you to eat it, but the fact that you liked it made this all the better."
 
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"Oh my god..." Hana's voice came out muffled, her face buried into the palms of her hands in embarrassment as Karl finally burst into the first genuine fit of laugher she'd ever witnessed from him, however contrived it was. The little asshole! She only lowered her head further as he struggled to speak between chuckles, a low whine of protest coming from beneath her muffled face.

"S-stop laughing! You're terrible!" Her shoulders were almost shaking at this point. Once she got over the fact that she had just consumed raw pork, and worse, liked it, she had give it to him. His conniving little scheme had been executed almost perfectly, with her being an unknowing, encouraging participant. It was, for all intents and purposes, a good, harmless prank. And however much she wanted to deny it, it was stupidly funny.

Finally, she lifted her face, her eyes squinted and her lips unwillingly curled into a smile. She shook her head lightly as she grabbed another slice of bread, an attempt to shove more food into her mouth before she burst into a fit of laughter after him.

As she lowered it into the artichoke dip, she glanced over at Karl, who seemed to have calmed down from his aforementioned fit. Pulling the dripping affair back onto her plate, she kept her eyes trained onto his features, still smiling a little. That was perhaps the first time she'd ever seen him burst into a fit of anything that wasn't pure, unbridled rage, or witnessed a form of humor from him that wasn't cruel or otherwise mean spirited. It was genuinely just... good-natured, silly fun.

"Fine. I walked right into that one. It was a good prank. Petty, but good." She sighed a bit, her eyebrows arched up as she let out a laugh. "Geez, I thought age was supposed to make you mellow and sage." Hana shook her head at him one last time, before digging into the cheesy bread.
 
"If you believe that," Karl replied, his somewhat satirical tone mellowed by the traces of good humor. "You clearly need to spend more time around old people"

Nodding slightly to himself, Karl finished his own slice of mettbrötchen, before turning to the cheese, crackers, and artichoke dip. Karl was far more fond of the dish than Hana was, and he certainly had no objections to eating raw meat of just about any sort, but nor did he intend to let his 'prank' change what he wanted to eat. He'd had more than enough of that particular phenomenon at dinner yesterday.

Fortunately, adding a bit of extra bread to the table meant that there was more than enough food for the both of them, even though the kitchen had only prepared the artichoke dip for one. Add that to the slice of mett he'd eaten earlier, and Karl was able to finish his meal satisfactorily full. Standing up from the table, the dirty dishes he'd used began to float slightly, before whisking themselves away to the scullery.

Just as Karl was about to turn and head out of the kitchen, his eyes momentarily caught on Hana, sitting on the other side of the table and enjoying the remains of her food. He hesitated slightly, before shaking his head. "If there's anything you want," he began, voice unexpectedly clipped and brusque. "To make your stay more comfortable or enjoyable, just... ask the house. A lot of people, with very diverse interests and behaviors have lived here. It will almost certainly be able to find something for any hobby you could wish to pursue to fill the time."
 
In the middle of gorging her face with her third slice of cheesy bread, Hana was caught off guard slightly by Karl's almost startling display of consideration towards her. She paused to swallow, contemplating what he said, before leaning forward curiously.

"Really?" She asked, blinking. "Would the house be able to get me, say, oil paints and brushes? And a canvas, maybe?" It was the first thing her mind was immediately drawn to. Painting, especially when doing so simply for her own enjoyment, was perhaps when she felt the most at ease. It was a familiar space for her, so the thought of being able to pass time doing that which she loved was enticing, to say the least. Her legs were practically bouncing underneath the table.

Though, as she rolled his words around in her mind, her gaze softened a little, the smile from her face waning slightly. Of course, she appreciated the one actual kind gesture Karl has shown her. But the way that he spoke, of her 'stay' and of passing time, it reminded her rather harshly that she didn't really have the luxury to simply... fill the time painting. She didn't have time. And he didn't explicitly say it, but laced between his words were the implication that he had no real intention of helping her with the cube.

Though, she supposed she already knew that. The young woman let out a strained sigh.

Well, what's one more day going to do? It wasn't as though tomorrow would be her last day on earth. She'd been thrown into one exhaustive situation after another, so wasn't it reasonable to just spend one day, even half of one day, not chasing after something that seemed impossibly out of her reach?

She could even continue exploring the house, like she was doing that morning. Perhaps she could do a still life study on an artifact, or on one of the rooms in the house that she felt was visually intriguing. She could learn a little and paint at the same time!
 
Karl nodded slightly, waving away Hana's request as though it was only a small matter. "Easily. There have been more than a few artists here. If you feel like it, you can ask to go to their studio as well. That place was a gaand ka bukhaar to set up, but they liked it."

Karl didn't feel like he was over-exaggerating in his assessment. The place was built with the powdered remains of a far-seeing mirror, which had been imbued into the walls. Under the house's control, it could be used to bring up images of countless scenes from around the world, most of them taken directly from Karl's memory. Even with all the grand rooms and sights in the house, it was far inferior compared to the vast number of possible subject matters that could be strewn across the walls of the room.

He had no particular desire to say or explain anything else to Hana. As far as he was concerned, if she couldn't figure out how to use the room by simply walking into it and seeing how the walls would change with her arrival, that wasn't his problem. Even more so if she rambled as much to the house as she usually did to him, in which case it would easily change to match as close to her expectations as the place had a record of. Feeling satisfied that he'd obliged whatever strange impulse had caused him to pause and turn around, he resumed walking out of the room, before vanishing from sight.

"Gaand ka bukhaar" - "pain in the ass" -literally "dirty fever" (Urdu)
 
Hana perked at his mention of a studio, her eyes dashing up at him once more. Though she wanted to ask more questions about it, and about the person for whom it was designed for, she waited for Karl's figure to fade away from the hallway before she bolted from her seat, grabbing her bag. He didn't seem to have any intention of staying to answer her questions, and she had a feeling that metaphorically poking the beast with a stick right after she had clearly somehow won a bit of his good favor... was not very wise. So, instead, she scurried off in search of this fabled studio, letting the kitchen to sweep up the used dishes from the table behind her.

When she had found it, from the moment she stepped in, it was fairly clear that it was indeed the room she was looking for. The space was quite small, scattered with variously sized easels, stretched canvases and old scrolls that lined the far wall. It was said that smaller studios discipline the mind, whilst larger ones distract it, but even she was surprised by how much stuff Karl managed to fit into the space.

Further towards the middle of the room, a table stood next to a pair of stools, stacked tall with tins of graphite, rolled up paint tubes, cups of brushes and a myriad of more supplies, however old and worn. Hana had to physically restrain herself from shoving her hands into the pile, like a toddler with a fresh set of toys.

Bouncing a little as she walked further in, she saw the walls on three sides of the room flash suddenly, changing from regular plaster to the image of a field of poppies, and a cloudy blue sky.

"Woah!" Hana stumbled back a little, bumping into the table behind her. Staring at the new bright red petals, she settled forward, moving closer to touch the wall, which, she discovered, was still a wall.

"Hm. Well, that's different." She hummed curiously, setting her bag down on one of the stools. "Maybe it's like that library from earlier, with the funny little window that changes depending on what kind of ambience you want." She continued around the room, picking up one of the old gessoed canvases. When she looked up, she found the walls had changed once more, this time displaying a library, one with tall walls and a small window that looked out onto a field.

Once the significance of the imagery clicked in her mind, she exclaimed a quick "Oh!" before she set the canvas onto one of the easels and looked back up at the wall, her fingers drumming on the panel in excitement.

"Do you think you could show me, say, the view from the Empire State Building, in New York?" There was a slight hesitation in her voice, as though she were almost embarrassed to ask. Perhaps it was her subconscious, seeking something that was almost certainly out of her reach. But the walls of the room flashed for a moment once more, presenting her with what she assumed had to have been a scene of New York City one or two hundred years ago.

"Hmm, well. I suppose that works, but.." She thought for a moment, a finger on her chin. "Maybe you could show me some place in Italy? I've never been, but I've always wanted to go." She waited patiently, before the walls flashed one more time to reveal a picturesque view of a street-lamp lit marketplace, bustling with people clad in petticoats and tunics under a dark, starry sky. It was strange to see these places from decades ago in crisp color, as opposed black and white pictures on patchy, grainy film, or yellowed and frayed paintings.

Hana smiled a little. As much as she might not want to, she had to give Karl credit for the room—it was a clever use of a small space, and incredibly useful for those artists born before the age of the Internet, or even before cameras or photographs were a huge thing.

And so, equipped with magical viewfinders on all sides of the room, Hana spent the rest of that day and much of the next morning cooped up in that studio, taking only a handful of breaks when either her bladder or stomach urged at her to do so. By the time she was finished with the painting, it was just shy of noon, and Hana had left the piece in the studio to dry while she absentmindedly walked back to her room to lay down for a few minutes, her back mildly sore from being hunched over for so many hours.

As approached what she presumed to be the door to her room and stepped inside, she realized she had obliviously opened the wrong door, finding the surroundings that greeted her to be decidedly unfamiliar. The room was completely barren, save for one big table in the center, and a few inches above it, a large image of a globe that emitted a soft golden light, illuminating the rest of the room.

For a moment, Hana simply stared at it from the doorway, but she was inexplicably drawn to step further into the room, absently setting her tote bag down on the edge of the table in a way that the cube and a few other contents of the bag slipped out onto the surface. From a closer view, she could see that the land parts were raised topographically, having a slightly bumpy surface, and that were small bright yellow lights that peppered its surface. She noticed a larger red dot at the very tip of northeast America, which she presumed represented their location.

The girl tilted her head slightly to get a better view of the sides, placing her hand on the edge of the table to steady herself. Almost as quickly, the image of the globe flickered violently, before sprouting a new set of yellow lights. Hana almost immediately retracted her hand and stepped back, and just as quickly, the image reverted back.

A pause.

She sighed, a little exasperated. "Why are there so many things that pop up in your face in this house?"

Again, she placed her hand onto the table, allowing the second image to come up again. She noticed one of the little yellow dots almost overlapping with the red, and continued to peer around the map with her one hand stationed on the table, wondering what it meant, and why it had flickered when she touched it.
 
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