Prompt Love is Blind: A Crackle and Hiss of Warm Grease

[Garuda]

art by Simon Harvey
Thread for Aramirn (Aero) - Osuin (Cros)​

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It was meal time at a crossroads. Camp set a small hike off of Pegasus' Way, tents pitched and fires starting to spark to life. With days of travel behind you, the promised rest brings comfort. A hunting party had been sent out earlier in the day, and one of you landed the killing shot, while the other gathered plenty of bounty from the forest.

Night is fast approaching, and the sky begins to turn from azure blue, to dusky pink. The leaves painted in soft golds and burnt oranges, whilst the wind rustles gently the leaves, and sets to dance the branches and twigs. Dinner needs cooking, and the party of travelers looks to the two Knights of Anathaeum, to spare their kindness, and help prepare the meal.
So the cast irons sit over the fire. Tallow heats there at the bottom of one pan and begins to sizzle and pop, as the warm scent of the fat pervades the sweet scent of pine smoke.

 

[Osuin]

From behind the limited cover of young trees, Osuin saw his oppertunity.

THWACK!

He released the bow, letting the arrow tear through the air, sinking just behind the shoulder of the stag he'd been tracking. Angered by his wound, the beast lowered his head and began a charge, galloping over the thin brush with a menacing snort. Osuin was quick to loose another arrow upon it, striking just above the eye. Yet the arrow did not pierce bone, leaving a deep but ultimately superficial wound.

The stag stumbled as it closed in. His head was low and antlers bared at Osuin, who deftly used the tree as an obstacle in defense against attack. The beast rolled, and Osuin grasped an antler with both hands. Hunter and prey stumbled to the ground, bright blood frothing and spilling from the arrow impaled in the bellowing beast.

The stag swung and rolled his head in an attempt to wrench free, while Osuin fought to keep control of it. Blood and oxygen loss had taken a severe toll, yet the renaming might of the beast was enough to send Osuin stumbling over it. As he did, he seized an opportunity to latch an arm around the stag’s throat, cinching it in tight. Burly arms kept the stag still as it struggled with what little strength it had left.

The beast's motions grew more and more listless until it made no more. Once Osuin released it, the carcass fell limp to the ground.

Returning with it would be a greater effort. Unable to carry the beast through dense woods, Osuin resigned himself to dragging it, leaving a trail of crushed grass beneath. It wasn't until his return to camp that he was able to cross into the clearing and hoist the slain stag onto his shoulders. Steady, laboured steps took him the rest of the way uphill to the camp.

Once there, he was quick to release his hold, letting the carcass roll off his back and hit the ground with a thud as Osuin caught his breath.

* * *

As night began to fall, Osuin was busy butchering the beast. Half of it remained hanging from a tree, while half had been cut into steaks ready to be grilled. Deer were easy enough. His early days as a squire had seen him in the mess hall doing exactly this. It had been a while since then, but he'd clearly not forgotten. Clad in an smock that was tinged red with blood, he continued to separate meat from bone with the flickering campfire illuminating the scene.

"So, what else do we have for dinner?" He asked, his attention still focused on the meat he was cleaving.

 

[Aramirn]

The striped dicorn at Aramirn’s side nibbled at the sun-painted leaves. The half-elf sorted through the library of plants he’d memorized both in the field and preserved in Astenvale’s archives. That one’s safe. Rarely did he need to worry about the trees; usually it was berries.

On that note, a critical eye inspected every new one he plucked off their stems. Once he determined they were safe, he dropped them in one of the bags hanging off Ciranakh’s saddle. The dicorn turned his head to his side, curious of the colorful, sweetly-scented fruits, but Aramirn gently pushed his head away.

When the sunlight waned and its light was replaced by flickering campfires, the squire and his equine companion arrived, several burlap sacks nearly full of all manner of mushrooms, seeds, and berries. Some of it came from the very woods they traversed, though some was brought with him from the monastery, preserved and ripened with a little shroudweaving.

“Syr Osuin, I’ve brought…” Aramirn had to sort through the list in his head, though he couldn’t name everything off the top of it, “hawthorn leaves, mushrooms, beans, blackberries, onions, nettle… That needs to be soaked or boiled first.” The squire rummaged through the bags, trying to refresh his memory of all the things he brought with him.

 

[Osuin]

"Quite the selection you've gathered." Osuin replied, pausing his work for only a moment to look at Aramirn before returning to his task. Truth be told, Osuin hadn't counted on the haul brought. Aramirn had the good sense to bring some other choice items as well, ensuring the two had plenty that could add good flavour and texture.

Osuin was far from an inexperienced cook. He even had a hobby of cooking his own meals, largely out of his fussy eating habits. The knight hadn't always been able to eat well, and now that he could it was a valued privilege. One that was often in conflict with whatever was served in the mess hall, which was not always to the Knight Pursuant's taste. Some days, he swore the kitchen was more concerned with what could be food, than what ought be food.

Having gotten used to cooking with less, there was quite a lot Osuin could do with what he unexpectedly had before him.

"We should be able to make a good meal out of this. Could you chop the onions and mushrooms while I carve the rest of the elk?" Osuin asked as he continued to butcher the slain elk, with pieces of meat neatly stacked on a serving plate beside him.

@Aramirn

 

[Aramirn]

“Yes, syr,” Aramirn replied. A wordless halting motion was all he needed to keep his curious mount from following. The squire wasn’t the best with a knife, whether in the kitchen or in combat, but he was competent enough. Still, cutting through onions made his eyes water just a little. Aramirn wiped his sleeve across his face, pushing the chopped mushrooms and onions into separate piles.

While he focused on the task the pursuant assigned him, fellow travelers continued to set up camp. The dancing firelight lit up rudimentary tents. Now that Aramirn was done, he took a moment to survey the campsite. Despite the assortment of ingredients he brought, there were still major limitations to their cooking. Such was life on the road, though. One learned to be grateful for what they could get.

“The mushrooms and onions are ready, syr,” he said. “Do you want me to add anything else?”

@Osuin

 

[Osuin]

Osuin worked over the carcass with careful cuts to separate the meat from the bone. Laid on the table beside him was a growing array of large chunks of elk meat. Osuin was so busily engrossed in cleaving off the last of it that he hadn't noticed Aramirn's return on completion of his task.

"Oh, you got that done quick."
Spoke Osuin. He had expected it to take a moment longer than it had, but his speed was beneficial. It's save time to have Aramirn handle the spices while he finished up with the cleaving.
"I'm just about to start caving them up. Can you chop up the spices?"

Osuin took a plain ceramic bowl, filled with a variety of herbs. Long thin sprouts, leaves and stems were laid in the bowl, tossed one after the other

"Here, I think these should really bring out the taste. The more fine you can chop 'em, the better."
Osuin said, passing the bowl over in a hand.

@Aramirn