herr_bookman | OOM: Oswin's Visit To Goldkrone

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OOM: Oswin's Visit To Goldkrone

The morning mist has burned away this Saturday, and the cobblestone streets glisten with dew in Goldkrone. People mill around, getting ready for the day and greeting one another. There are no cars on the streets, but the occasional horse is put to use. Autor leads Oswin through a door near his school from Milliways.

"[Remember,]" he says in French, "[I've told my mother you're coming, so try to... I don't know, act natural? But not too natural. I don't want her scandalized.]"

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"[Perhaps his playing will distract from my rolls. I don't think he shows off enough, do you?]" Oswin asks the little girl as she pulls the dough out of its bowl to punch it down and make the final rolls.

"[That's just ridiculous,]" Autor says, executing an exaggerated sniff.

"::What did she say?::" Clara says, tugging on his blazer again.

"::She said I don't show off enough,::" Autor says, harrumphing.

"::Oh, I like her,::" Erna says, whipping a few eggs together with milk. "::She's right, you know. You don't show off enough.::"

"::Mutterchen,::" Autor starts, but a look from Clara quells him. "::Ah, fine. I'll play the piano.::" He adjusts his glasses. "[Miss Oswald, would you like me to play now or wait until later?]"

Oswin knows the tone of someone being ganged up on. She snickers, and refrains from ruffling his hair with her dough and flour covered hands.

"[Is there some reason we can't have both?]"

"[We can have both,]" Autor says, exasperated. "[I know just what to play.]"

He leads the three women into the great room and sits down at the piano. He lovingly caresses the keys before launching into a jazzy rendition of the Habanera, one of Oswin's favorites.

Edited 2015-10-23 06:11 (UTC)

Honestly, he should play more often. He looks so much happier playing.

And he's really good at it too. She can' curl up as she is accustomed to in this dress, but she does make herself comfortable in one of the chairs.

Autor glances at her over his shoulder. He smiles a little and effortlessly transitions to Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu, followed by Debussy's Arabesque no. 1. He shakes his hands out between songs, but continues with the Clair de Lune and Satie's Trois Gymnopedies.

Leaning back on the seat, he cracks his knuckles. "[I think that's enough showing off,]" he says, though that soft, contented smile still rests on his lips.

There's some muttering at the French, but when Oswin claps, most everyone recalls childhood manners and claps as well.

Sometimes it's good to have societal rules to fall back on.

"[Clearly doesn't happen often enough.]"

The inn's guests return to reading their newspapers. Erna squeezes Autor's shoulder. "::Well done, son.::"

"::Yes, Autorchen, well done!::" Clara says, wrapping her arms about his waist.

"::Ah, thank you,::" Autor says, his cheeks dusted with pink. "[Should we get back to cooking now?] ::Should we get back to cooking now, Mutterchen?::"

"::Yes, that's probably for the best,::" she says, and heads back to the kitchen.

Edited 2015-10-23 07:15 (UTC)

"[Silly, you should show off more often.]" Oswin scolds as they head back to the baking. "[And do the rolls look right? I didn't want to ask in front of your mum.]"

Autor glances over the rolls, which have doubled in size, as soon as they get back. "[Yeah, they look fine,]" he says, tilting his head. "[You shouldn't be so nervous about them.]"

Erna sets the breaded eggplant and mushrooms inside the oven and starts work on the lemon caper sauce. She already has a pot set to boil for the potatoes. "::Autorchen, tell her the oven is ready for her use.::"

"[My mother says the oven is ready for you,]" Autor says. "[How are you holding up?]"

Edited 2015-10-24 04:24 (UTC)

"[This is awesome, I'm fine.]" She smirks at him, scoring the bread and carefully sliding the trays into the oven.

"[Good,]" Autor says, beaming at her. "[I'm glad you're having a good time.]"

Erna removes the capers and oil from the heat and adds lemon juice and parsley. She sets the sauce aside after stirring and starts slicing potatoes. "::Autorchen, ask your friend what her favorite foods to bake are, please.::"

"[My mother wants to know what your favorite foods to bake are,]" Autor translates.

"[... Well, souffles, but you knew that. And. Um. I don't know. Other things?]" That question does stymie her a bit.

"::She likes soufflés,::" Autor says to his mother, who nods thoughtfully.

"::I've never been good at soufflés,::" she confesses, and Autor translates. She tosses the potatoes in the pot of boiling water. "::They fall too often.::"

Clara leans against Autor's side. "::I'm hungry.::"

"::Run along and play, Clara,::" Erna says, and Clara bounces off. "::Your rolls are baking nicely.::"

"[She says your rolls are baking nicely,]" Autor says. "[They smell good, too.]"

Oswin abuses Autor's ability to translate to trade tips for getting souffles to work with Autor's mum while the rolls slowly brown. She fails to mention that some days the souffles still don't work for her either.

When she pulls out the tray of rolls, she has to fight to not do a jig of 'yay omg they worked' when they actually look like real rolls.

Erna finishes tossing the green beans and potatoes in olive oil and herbs, and serves them on a fresh bed of spinach. She covers the eggplant and mushrooms with the lemon caper sauce, and declares them done.

Erna rings the dinner bell, and the inn's guests begin filing in. A younger, redheaded man and his pretty wife enter the room. The redhead smiles at Erna. "::This looks wonderful, thank you,::" he says.

Clara comes bouncing in, and an older gentlemen with a scraggly beard follows behind her. Next comes a reedy man and a man in a hat going back and forth in a flurry of German too fast for Autor to translate. "[They're talking politics,]" he explains to Oswin. "[It's very boring.]" From his narrow-eyed stare, however, it's anything but.

"[Liar liar pants on fire.]" Oswin sing-songs under her breath, tough her expression also becomes cold. These are the people getting everyone all spun up. The ones that are going to cause the war that hurts her friend.

It's tough not to throw something at them. Like a roll. Throwing one of those rolls would hurt.

Autor gives her a look, but doesn't say anything. The two men keep talking even as they sit down, increasing in volume.

"::And I'm telling you that the war's going to last!::" the reedy man says.

"::No, there will be a breakthrough, you'll see!::" the man in the hat retorts.

"::You're just saying that because you don't want to get drafted!::" the reedy man says, leaping to his feet. The man in the hat follows, as does Erna, who clears her throat.

"::There will be no fisticuffs in this house,::" she says quietly, commanding their attention. "::If you must, take it outside.::"

"[She's telling them to take it outside,]" Autor translates softly.

"::Yes, Miss Erna,::" the reedy man says, and sits down. The man in the hat apologizes and follows suit. "::Sorry.::"

"::Autorchen, apologize to our guest for their rudeness,::" Erna says, sitting down again.

"[She's apologizing to you for their rude behavior,]" he says.

"[Tell her she doesn't have to apologize, it's not her fault some people just have no manners or sense.]" They should be glad, they should be oh-so-very glad this world doesn't have internet, or computers. If it did, Oswin would have no problem whatsoever making their lives perfectly miserable as fast as possible.

"::She says you don't have to apologize,::" Autor tells his mother, who shakes her head.

The two men return to their conversation in quieter tones. The redhead and his wife engage the older gentleman, and Erna turns to Oswin. "::Your rolls are just lovely,::" she says, smiling. "::Well, don't be shy, eat up."

"[She says your rolls are lovely and to go ahead and eat,]" Autor says, nibbling on a roll. "[These really are excellent, Miss Oswald. Ha, I will never get used to calling you that.]"

"::Autorchen, ask her if she likes German food,::" Erna says, serving Clara.

"[She wants to know what you think of German food,]" Autor translates.

Alana's going to be so confused by her food diary, Oswin just knows it. It'll go from 'some cereal' 'fruit' 'tea and stuff' to 'so much food all the food all of it help'. The Tone will come out. Oswin isn't sure why, since in general the goal has been to get her to eat more, but... the Tone will definitely come out.

"[It's all really very good.]" Oswin assures Erna, obligingly loading up her plate. "[Different than French, definitely.]"

Autor's so distracted by the political discussion at the end of the table that he almost misses Oswin's answer. He translates for his mother, who smiles.

The rest of lunch passes in a significantly less dramatic fashion, with Autor translating his mother's questions and food being consumed. Autor leans back and pats his belly once he's finished, full and content.

"::Autorchen, tell your friend that she doesn't need to help with the dishes,::" Erna says, patting him on the shoulder.

"[Miss Oswald? You don't need to help with the dishes, my mother and Clara can take care of them,]" he says. "[We might want to head back to the bar soon anyway.]"

Something like sadness, something like wistfulness flits across her face before she makes it disappear entirely.

"[That's awfully nice of them, thank them for me. I don't suppose we could see more of the town before we go?]"

"[Sure we could,]" Autor says, brightening. "[We can check out the old bell tower; it's just opened up from being renovated. And there are some museums if you wanted to stop by.]"

Autor thanks his mother and Clara for Oswin as they start clearing the table. The inn's guests start filtering out, all of them thanking Erna for the meal.

"[Well, shall we?]" Autor says, standing up from his seat.

"::Goodbye, Miss Oswald,::" Clara says, standing at her elbow. "::Thank you for the rolls!::"

"[She says goodbye and thank you for the rolls,]" Autor translates.

Oswin crouches to get on a more level playing field with the girl.

"[Goodbye, Clara, and don't forget to say hello to any fish you see swimming about for me, alright?]"

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