- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- Multiple posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
- Genres
- High fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by modern fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
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."
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)