[ P ] Cakewrecks [Sundstol]

H

e is not entirely heartless. The baking contest had been almost a sweep, which is...surprising...considering he is an alchemist, not a baker. Then again, there are few differences between baking and alchemy. Medicines, salves, poultices... the ability to draw infection from a festering wound... All of these are things that require intimate knowledge and measurements-- why, a poor measurement could be the difference between a helpful antiseptic, and a deadly poison. In any case, apparently the balance of his cake was satisfactory for the judges, and so he comes away with pinecones. He...does not know what they are for, but oh well. What he does know is that there was a large beefcake of a man who had slunk off looking so horribly dejected that it shoved a pick into the ice of his heart. What was his name? Sundstol? Well, once the judging was over, he'd headed off to find the one contestant who'd forfeited.

He has brought with him the remainder of the winning cake, carrying it so carefully so as not to ruin the delicate decoration. Small and dainty, even his steps are almost a prance. Despite this, he is not happy-go-lucky person and the usual scowl settled on his face has been briefly replaced by a rare look of confusion. Now, where could someone so big be hiding? He sets the cake down carefully atop a stump, and proceeds to look around almost comically.

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

@Sundstol

RUBY RIVER GLOWING IN THE SUN

The weight of the snow upon branches had split one of the larger maples, a portion of it cracking from the trunk and landing nearly atop his makeshift chicken coop. "T'was a close one there, wasn't it, Inga?" Sundstol grumbled, peering down at a heavyset hen that clucked back in response before joining the other chickens in picking through the snow for a good bit of feed left out for them.

The man snorted and got right to work moving the lumber away from his home. It would at least fetch a good price once it was segmented and that would feed him and his hens well during longer winter days. He lowered his body to heft the massive branch over his shoulder, gripping it with his jaws to hoist it to the edge of his homestead. When he looked up, he paused, catching sight of a familiar face standing nearby a stump. Tiny, emerald orbs were drawn downward as he laid his eyes on a cake...

Sundstol dropped the maple with a loud thud and gestured towards the sizeable treat. "Did ya win then?" He asked curiously, recalling that this gentleman had been a rather skilled baker during that contest. He wouldn't have been surprised to find this out, but then why was he here. To boast his victory?


@Cyrill

Wash me over,
Show me where you run...

Roll me deeper in your tide,
Take my spirit, take my mind,
Take me over to that other side...

code by claerie ~ art by ashon

H

e scowls slightly, lips curling upwards in an expression that borders on 'looking down his nose at someone beneath him'. Which is funny, considering he is much smaller than the bearish man in front of him. "No," he states, sharply, "I came to share. You looked sad and that pissed me off. Those judges were fucking rude." Uh, perhaps he could say this with less of an angry expression? Yet his voice is daggers too, even as he turns on his heels to find his next little package-- what remains of Sundstol's own cake. "I tried a piece and I can't see what the fuck is wrong with those judges. Tastes pretty good to me." he manages to soothe scowl from his face but that only results in him now looking mildly disgusted, which might have given off the wrong impression. And he realizes this--maybe too late?-- and tries to soften his features. He is, after all, a very lovely thing. Delicate, fae-like. All soft and smooth, made of silk and gilded rose-gold with eyes the color of a martian sunset. The angles of his face are sharp and well-carved, narrow and almost fox-like in their beauty-- and had he not spoken with a distinctly male voice, one would easily assume that he was, in fact, a female. But alas, he is not.

He shakes his head and heaves out a sigh that comes from somewhere deep within his chest. "Let me try that again. ...I came to share the cake with you. I disagreed with the judges decision. I don't consider myself a good baker. I'm a medic, not a cook. I tried yours, and I think it was better. There's an earthiness to it that makes the cake feel...nicer...for something to eat in the winter." He stands atop a fallen log, in some attempt to get to eye level with him. "Cyrill Embla, professor of Field and Trauma medicine at the College." he introduces himself with a sweeping wave of a dainty, peachy paw.

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

@Sundstol

RUBY RIVER GLOWING IN THE SUN

Sundstol hadn't realized just how small the other man was until they were closer in proximity. His ears folded back slightly, unprepared for the immediately pointed words he used when speaking of the judges. His lips parted, mouth opening as though he were to respond to the...interesting compliment on his unfinished cake, yet he could not find the words while still baffled at the rather crass attitude the smaller male presented...even if it was on his behalf.

The silence afterwards was quickly broken by his visitor's second attempt at expressing himself. Though he maintained his sharp edge, so to speak, it was clearer to him now that the fellow baker meant well. With the additional embellishment added onto the previous compliments, Sundstol averted his gaze downward sheepishly scuffling his paws as his cheeks warmed slightly, not quite used to the praise of others.

He peered back upward as he learned the name and even the profession of his new acquaintance, watching as the smaller figure sought to elevate himself to the same height. He quickly softened, a friendly smile brightening his rough features. "Ehm, thank you...glad you enjoyed it." Giving a polite dip of the head, he blinked back up, meeting the brute's piercing gaze. "My name is Sundstol...of Clan McKellan." Glancing down at the cake and looking back over his shoulder towards his homestead, he cleared his throat. "I can clear a space to, uhm, share the cake...if you wish."


@Cyrill

Wash me over,
Show me where you run...

Roll me deeper in your tide,
Take my spirit, take my mind,
Take me over to that other side...

code by claerie ~ art by ashon

H

e lets out a soft sigh, apparently soothing his previous foul mood. He is, however, prickly by nature and cannot exactly help himself. There is a dragon that sleeps within him, curled and coiled, constantly smoking at the corners of the mouth and ready to spit fire and brimstone and hiss sparks. But alas, it is not always viable, and it makes him unapproachable. He burns those who get too close, or those with skin to thin to handle his jabs and barbs. Still, Sund gives him a smile and he manages to return it, thin as it is.
"Yes, that would be lovely." he finally decides. "Oh, and take this. I am not certain what it's purpose is but they gave me three and I'm fairly certain I will need only one." He digs around once more before producing a pinecone, etched with some weird symbol. He hands it off to Sund without any fanfare, and he cannot say what its importance is. But it was what he won, and he feels Sund very much deserves at least a consolation prize for his pleasant nature in the face of defiant cruelty.

He sets both cakes up for them, not exactly worrying about how beautiful they looked. His own had been fully decorated in a hint of chantily lace, making the lemon-berry cake look even lighter and more delicate. Sund's unfinished cake looks a bit rough in comparison, but the spices in the batter stand out and together, they make a nice little naked-cake pair. "Clan McKellen?I know nothing of the clans or the importance of names here. Your name means nothing to me--what is most important is what you have done and achieved in your life. Your families' achievements are not your own." he admits, sounding a bit more disinterested than he means to. "My concern is the prospect that war just ended and here it comes again. I can see it in the distance--I know a war brewing when I see one. This 'peace' absolutely reeks of it."He scowls all over again,"Make no mistake; it is coming."

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

@Sundstol

RUBY RIVER GLOWING IN THE SUN

Sundstol lumbered over to an older stump leftover from a fallen tree would serve as decent eating place, he thought. He lifted a massive paw to brush off any of the forest's debris and turned himself around the other side, seating himself as he politely awaited Cyrill to join him. His tail quivered as he attempted to hold it still from wagging wildly, for while he spent many of his days alone in these woods, he did thoroughly enjoy friendly company from time to time.

Not only had his visitor brought cakes, he offered another gift. "A pinecone." He commented, pleasantly surprised by such an offering, his smile widening as he gratefully accepted it. "Thank you, my friend." It was an odd little piece, a curious symbol adorning. For now he set it down nearby the trunk and then turned back to the little man as he set up the cakes. Green eyes glanced to the side when he saw that Inga had scampered forth curiously as though feed were being laid out for her. "Oh, shoo, shoo, now. There is nothing here for you." He chided gently, causing the hen to fluff up the feathers of her chest before moving along.

He blinked up at Cyrill as he made a point to say that he cared not of his name nor the Clans, nor any achievements of historical ties. Sundstol merely stared at him, unsure of how to respond to him and as he waited in silence, eventually the topic of conversation shifted to impending war. The scowl seen on Cyril's face was enough to bring his own expression into one of solemn contemplation. "And...what is it you know of what's to come?" He asked before he went to take a bite of the lemon-berry cake. If falling in love could have been seen in his eyes, it was seen then just before he closed them as he savored every bit of flavor. "Mmm...now this, this is...mmm...divine..."


@Cyrill

Wash me over,
Show me where you run...

Roll me deeper in your tide,
Take my spirit, take my mind,
Take me over to that other side...

code by claerie ~ art by ashon