Baking was precise, and required care and attention paid to a great many factors at once. Aurelie liked this about it--she enjoyed the attention she had to pay to the temperature of her hands, to the way ingredients were mixed together. Unlike other kinds of cooking, a great deal of consistency was required to not only bake but bake well. Aurelie found this almost meditative, easily getting lost in the pleasure of taking each step as it was meant to be taken. A puzzle with an end result that could be shared and enjoyed by others.
That morning, at the early hour with which Aurelie arrived, the kitchen was sparsely populated; just a few of the girls overseen by Matron Rosalis that morning, including Aurelie herself. More would drift in as the morning progressed and the breakfast hour approached for both staff and students alike, but for now it was empty and Aurelie had room and relative privacy. There was some difficulty, balancing her tasks against the time and care needed to make her gift, but she managed. She found herself smiling to herself as she pressed her thumb into each small round of spiced dough before spooning in tart jam, made with the last of the summer's damsons. Each cookie, she knew, would not be particularly beautiful look at: this was no elegant thing, meant to be observed before consumption. But there were good, and they were warm, the tart edge of the jam cutting the buttery sweetness of the base. And they were, it had to be admitted, a personal favorite of hers. She wasn't sure what Aremu's taste was, but there was something in making something one enjoyed to give to another that was meaningful in itself.
Nervous hands wrapped fifteen finished cookies (five of the batch given to Matron Rosalis herself) carefully in a bright cloth that she tied together as a bundle of sorts. Oh, she did hope that he'd like them. For a moment she considered not bringing them at all, pretending that she hadn't had the time or opportunity to bring anything, but in the end she steeled her resolved. She had promised, in a way, that she was making something. Aurelie did like to live up to her promises, if she could. And she was much better at baking than embroidery.
Still, her journey from the kitchen was plagued with doubts. What if he had only been being polite, or she had wanted to make a friend so badly she had seen something that wasn't there? Or what if the offer had been sincere, but upon being inflicted with her company once more he would think better of it? That she didn't see anyone as she approached did nothing to soothe her concerns. She had made a mistake, she thought. An error in judgement. But then she thought to look up.
"Aremu...?" Aurelie called out quietly. She squinted at the tree he'd been in the time before. He had been there before her, when she'd come yesterday--was this the case again? She wasn't sure if she could linger too terribly long if it wasn't, but she would try.