[Mature | Memory] Complexity Intrudes

[Lars]

ROALIS 17th, 2711
THE KITCHENS, AROUND MEALTIME

Bennett was still trying to make him laugh. It was pointless; trying to get a laugh out of Lars was like trying to make an osta speak Estuan. Maybe it was possible, and they simply hadn't discovered how to make it happen yet, but it was highly improbable. Nothing to wait for, because one would only find disappointment at the end of that long wait. He did not laugh at any of his roommate's attempts, the ill-timed jokes, unattractive expressions, bad impressions. None of it was funny. Every moment in which the other boy tried to get a reaction out of him, his focus strayed from his work, and slowed things down. He did not want for either of them to be scolded by the nearest matron, or patron, or to face even worse punishment if their slow hands happened to make more mistakes. Bennett got into enough trouble on his own, what with the way he couldn't keep his mouth shut when he needed to. He was not a loud man, nor was he all that rowdy, but he could not keep the snide remarks from escaping the side of his mouth when they entered his mind.

But Lars had been sharing a room with him for almost a decade now. He knew him pretty well, and he knew that he would not stop himself from saying something rude even if their patron was standing right behind him, and he would not stop cracking inappropriate jokes about the other servants around them even if they overheard. It made him nervous, and he was not unwilling to admit that fact.

"Bennett," he urged quietly, after a particularly crude comment concerning something with the matron's hair (he could not understand it, really, he did not get these jokes), "he thinks you should focus on the vegetables. You're going to cut your fingers."

The taller servant stood beside him, looking over the pile of already-chopped carrots and celery. "I'm doing pretty well," insisted Bennett, and he pushed the vegetables to the side of the board before reaching for the next things to chop. More carrots, more celery - the two of them had been chopping away for a while now, readying things to be thrown into pots after dinner and made into stock for future use. The kitchens were loud and alive with movement and noise, too many bodies working in too little space for such a hot Roalis evening, and it was all that they could do to stay out of the way but keep to their task. Bennett was a little worse about not moving when he needed to, not listening for anyone's comments and concerns... but Lars was always alert, always aware, despite the dreamy, unfocused nature of his gaze. Always listening, in case someone needed him for something.

"Fine," the taller was chopping the ends off of more carrots, now, his eyes finally fixed downward to ensure he did not chop his fingers instead, "you tell a joke instead then. See if you can make me laugh."

Lars blinked, looking to the other boy's face for a moment before he looked back to his own work. He had moved onto dicing the onions, himself, and he was expecting Bennett to complain about that fact soon enough, when his eyes began to water and sting. "Why are we... trying to laugh?" questioned the blond, turning the onion to chop one end off of it, and then the other.

"Just try. Come on, whatever comes to mind."

"Uh..." oh, gods, he didn't know what to say. He had never tried to tell a joke before, he wasn't even sure where to start. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, and Lars focused on the sounds around them. The rushed, insistent voices, the quiet conversations amidst the fast-paced work. Blue uniforms with their sleeves pushed up to the elbows, aprons and pinafores smudged and dirtied save for the lucky few that did not get their hands as dirty.

"What - ah..." the servant paused his chopping, taking a breath as he looked around the kitchens. There was another older boy working at the station in front of them, his back to them, and his suspenders were twisted at the bottom, where they latched onto his trousers. Lars nudged Bennett's side, gently, and pointed to the boy with his knife, "that... um... his uniform is messed up. That means... something."

Bennett was quiet, and Lars looked back to him with a small frown.

"Was that your joke?"

"...Yes," he turned away, going to resume chopping the onion, "he doesn't know what to say. He just wants to get this done, please."

His roommate's only response was a quiet scoff, but he finally stopped trying to get the younger passive to laugh. For that, he was grateful. After he had finished with the onions, Lars left the station, moving away from Bennett to go and rinse off his hands. He did so quickly, but while on his way back, he was stopped by another familiar voice.

"Lars," called an older girl named... Lora? He could not remember, but she motioned him over to the stove, where she stood stirring something in a big pot. Lars approached and a wooden spoon was put into his hand, as Lora stepped away from the stove and left his side without further instruction. He looked to the pot, watching the unknown soup swirl inside of it, and with a soft sigh, he set the wooden spoon back into it and stirred. Beside it, another pot sat upon the stove, filled with water that was just beginning to bubble and steam.

The Hessean turned his head, his stirring paused temporarily while he looked back out to where Bennett continued chopping vegetables. Well, at least he did not have to listen to his bad impressions of the professors from over here.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 27th, 2711 - Around Mealtime | The Brunnhold Kitchens

Aurelie Steerpike wasn't a baby. She wasn't! No matter what the other girls said, asking her if she wasn't sure her parents hadn't gated her early. She was just short--that wasn't the same. Aurelie was certain she'd be taller when she grew up. After all, her parents and sister were. The important part was that she wasn't a child, she was already twelve. Not a baby, at all. Babies didn't get to help with the important things in the kitchen, and Aurelie wanted to help. The work was hard, and sometimes it made her too tired to move anymore--especially when she had to help in the scullery--but Aurelie liked the kitchen. It reminded her of being back home with Nurse, even though this wasn't home and she would never see Nurse again.

And she was good at helping too, at least she thought she was. When she was allowed to help. Like now, she wasn't being kept in the back, where she had always been. Over the last few months, she thought she had been doing better, because Matron had been letting her do more and more in the kitchen itself. Just the other week she got to cut vegetables. If she was very good, she thought, they might let her help with making bread. Bread seemed like something she actually wanted to help with. Nurse had let her help with that at home, when Mother and Father were out and Ana wasn't home from school. Cook hadn't liked it, but he gave in when he realized that if she wasn't helping she was just going to sit quietly on a chair in the kitchen watching. So she would be good at helping with bread, better than the other girls her age.

Today the kitchen was busy, busier than usual. Aurelie wasn't sure why, but she was doing her best to stay useful, criss-crossing the kitchen over and over as she did little tasks here and there. It was hard, because she was small and people tended not to see her. So she had to be very careful to see them first, in order to keep from crashing into each other. Once she'd run into one of the older girls while she was taking a tray of rolls out of the oven. The rolls had been dropped, and Matron scolded her so soundly Aurelie had very nearly cried. But she hadn't, she reminded herself fiercely--she hadn't cried. She wouldn't cry. No matter what. Only little children cried, and she wasn't a child. Not anymore.

"Aurelie, come here!" Aurelie looked up from putting away the clean trays at the sound of her name. It was one of the other girls who had been calling her a baby, before. Aurelie hesitated, but she went over to stand next to her.

Well, she supposed she was probably a baby to Lottie. Lottie was basically an adult already--she was fifteen, and taller than Aurelie by more than a head. Lottie was pretty, too, almost as pretty as Ana. Aurelie wondered if she would be that pretty, when she grew up. Something told her she wouldn't be. Not that it mattered, of course. She was a little afraid of pretty, grown-up Lottie. Not because of either of those things, that would be silly; Lottie was just mean to her and the other younger girls. It was Lottie who had started the other girls closer to her age asking if Aurelie had been gated early. She had caught sight of her tripping another girl in the laundry once, and Lottie had laughed when the girl had cried. Aurelie had never seen her look ugly until that moment.

"What is it?" Aurelie asked cautiously, peering up at Lottie from underneath a curtain of red hair. She had tied most of it back with a ribbon Matron had given her, but some of it escaped. A lot of it escaped, actually. The ribbon had limited effectiveness.

"I need you to bring me that pot from over there, next to Lora." Lottie pointed across the kitchen and Aurelie squinted. She could see Lora, and she could see the pot. It was awfully big. Aurelie frowned. She didn't understand what Lottie wanted it for--why wouldn't she just go over there? She looked back to Lottie's pretty oval face, and Lottie arched her eyebrows expectantly.

"What do you need it for?" This didn't sound right. Aurelie was almost certain that Lottie was trying to play a trick on her, but she wasn't sure. It didn't make any sense. Above her, Lottie huffed in frustration.

"It doesn't matter what I need it for, Aurelie, just bring it over here! Or do you want me to tell Matron you didn't want to help me?" That last part she delivered with some amount of glee. Like there was nothing she'd like to do better than to tattle on her to Matron. Aurelie blanched. If she was supposed to do what Lottie asked, then Matron would be angry and Aurelie would get in trouble. And if she got in trouble, they wouldn't want here here in the kitchen anymore. Aurelie shook her head.

"N-no, I'll--I'll go get it!" Aurelie shuffled hastily away. If it was a trick, Aurelie didn't know what the trick was. So it couldn't be one, because that didn't make any sense. By the time she got over to where the pot was, Lora had left and instead there was... a man. A blond man. That made her nervous--it wasn't that she never talked to boys at all, but she knew she wasn't supposed to. That was one thing about the kitchen she didn't like--sometimes, there were boys there and she had to talk to them. No harm ever came of it, and she was careful not to talk too much--a Matron had warned her about this very, very thoroughly--but it still made her anxious. Oh well, she didn't need to talk. Just get the pot and carry it over to Lottie.

"E-excuse me," Aurelie managed, trying not to get in the man's way. Even if she was nervous, that was no reason to be rude. At least, that's what Ana always said. She would know. The pot itself was quite tall, and Aurelie struggled to grab the top of it. It might be easier, she thought, if it were a little closer to the edge. She grabbed the handles and started pulling it towards her, carefully.

[Lars]

ROALIS 17th, 2711
THE KITCHENS, AROUND MEALTIME

Lars was not sure if Lora would be returning to her task of stirring the soup, or if he had just been stuck with something even more uninteresting than cutting up vegetables for stock and listening to Bennett's jokes. He would not complain, but he did, unfortunately, feel that his skills could have been better utilized elsewhere. Stirring a pot of unknown, green-ish soup was something that anyone with working hands could do, but not everyone could chop vegetables as quickly or as efficiently as he and Bennett could. It was not with ego that he thought this - the blond was far from confident and even farther from proud - but with common sense. He was used to working certain stations, trained and experienced in ways that the younger servants had not yet had time to learn.

The young ones just didn't know any better. The concept of work was still new to them, as it had been to all of them once. Not many galdori children were raised with the idea of servitude, after all. What need did a young galdor have to know how to clean and cook and repair and everything else? All of those things were better left to the servants, so that the child could focus on other things, more important things. Why would anyone ever do something for themselves when passives were there to do it for them?

The Hessean turned back to the stove, resuming his stirring of the strange soup. It did not look particularly pleasant, in his opinion, but he knew well that the appearance of something did not always mean everything. There were soups that looked like pure mush yet still tasted amazing, and he had to assume that this was one such soup. Or... he could hope. It did not smell all that amazing either. He hoped it was meant for the students, and not for them.

His pale blue gaze strayed to the side when another figure approached the stove - small. Smaller than most of them, in the kitchen. He was surprised to see such a young face coming over to the stove (surely that wasn't safe), but he did not let it show, his expression remaining carefully blank as the young girl came to stand beside him. She excused herself, and Lars dipped his head in polite acknowledgement, stepping a little to the side so as not to bother her or make her any more nervous than she already seemed.

He could understand being nervous. He had been gated for nine years, and he was still nervous every day.

Lars watched her reach for the pot of water beside the soup, now boiling and beginning to steam, but it seemed a little too far for her, or too heavy, he couldn't tell. What was she doing, trying to pick up that pot? It was far too much for her, it was not safe. Had someone told her to do that? He set the wooden spoon down, unable to keep the concern from his sharp features as the girl started pulling the pot of water closer to the edge, closer to herself, closer to -

"Oh! Let him get that for you, you shouldn't -"

- but the pot was pulled over the edge of the stove before he could grab it.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 27th, 2711 - Around Mealtime| The Brunnhold Kitchens

The pot really was much heavier than she had expected, but she could grab it. At least she thought so--she just needed to get it a little closer. Aurelie was being very careful, so it would be okay. The handles of the pot were hot, but not so hot that she couldn't touch them--just a little too warm.

The man next to her spoke, and Aurelie was so surprised that she turned her attention away from the water to his face. He looked concerned, and Aurelie opened her mouth to say that it was just fine. After all, all she had to do was be careful.

She wasn't careful enough.

In the moment her attention turned to the blond man next to her and away from the pot, it had reached the edge of the stove. Aurelie realized that she had made a mistake--it was too heavy for her to keep steady, not with the water sloshing around back and forth. Not quite full, but full enough. The pot teetered. Aurelie stumbled back, just half a step, but she hadn't let go of the handles. The half step was enough; pushed forward by the awkwardness of the pot in her hands, it all went crashing to the ground. Aurelie, the pot, the water inside of it.

Heat.

For a moment this was all her mind could process--heat, and then pain. Aurelie heard herself cry out, though some part of her had tried not to. Being loud wasn't what she was supposed to do--she needed to be quiet. But it hurt, it hurt so much. It was all she could think about, blotting out even her ability to let go of the pot in her hands. Aurelie wanted to cry, but bit her lip so hard she drew blood instead. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. She wouldn't she wouldn't she wouldn't-- Then it stopped hurting anymore, and Aurelie wasn't sure this was better, but she was grateful.

All of this took just minutes, and although she had screamed when it happened, Aurelie went still and quiet immediately afterwards. She let go of the pot in her hands, carefully. This hurt. Moving hurt, because her dress was wet all down the front of it and every movement made the fabric, heavy and stiff already and only made more so by the weight of the water, dragged against her chest. Distantly, dizzily, she wondered if her skin had melted off. It certainly felt like it had. But she was in the way, wasn't she? Yes. Aurelie sat up, and this time she couldn't stop herself--she whimpered. Her eyes were still dry, though, and that was important. Aurelie kept telling herself this as she pulled herself off the floor.

Oh, but it hurt so much. Couldn't she cry, just a little? Surely it was okay if she cried now. Aurelie squeezed her eyes shut and thought about her sister, her mother, Nurse. But none of them were here and she was in the way and she needed to move. Or she would get in trouble, wouldn't she? She would move, in just a moment.

[Lars]

ROALIS 17th, 2711
THE KITCHENS, AROUND MEALTIME

I

t was too late. He had not looked over soon enough, had not said something early enough, had not moved fast enough to catch neither the girl nor the pot in her hands when they both toppled over. She was pushed back by the weight of the water, awkward and heavy, and heads were turned in their direction as she cried out. Their attentions were first on him, the man standing above her looking flustered and afraid, and then rightfully shifted to the girl on the ground.

Lars tried to catch her, he really did. He reached out as soon as he saw her balance shift, but he was too slow, too clumsy to grab onto anything, and he was left to watch her fall. The water sloshed out and on top of her, and he could not imagine its heat against the young girl's skin, beneath her uniform. She cried out only once, a shocked, pained sound, and he was surprised by her restraint - what was wrong with her? She should be crying, he thought, for all the pain that must have caused. Did she think she would be punished for it? He could not imagine thinking about such things when a pot of boiling water was poured down your chest. He was horrified.

"Oh gods," the boy dropped to his knees without much care for the water that had spilled out and onto the ground. He grabbed onto the pot as the girl released it - it was still hot - and he set it to the side. By then, a few of the others had come around to investigate: Lora had returned, and was practically gawking at the scene, covering her opened mouth with her hands as she tried to step closer. Bennett, too, had made his way over and was trying to peek around Lora to see.

Lars raised a hand to stop them. "Don't crowd her," he warned gently, though the nervousness still bled through his voice.

"He - we need to - uh - what -"

"Aurelie," provided Lora, and Lars was grateful for it. Perhaps it was not a good thing to be known for never remembering things, but it helped when he needed information quickly. Aurelie pushed herself up to sit, and Lars looked over her in quick inspection, unsure of what he was meant to do or if his help would be appreciated in the first place.

"Aurelie," he tried, keeping his tone soft and as calm as he could manage, "are - um, Bennett," a glance up to the other boy, "get - uh - get some water? Cool, not cold. Um."

Gods, what was he supposed to do? Was he meant to do anything at all? He could not just let this girl sit here on the floor after she spilled boiling water on herself. He could not see her skin to know how badly it had scalded her, but he could not exactly ask her to remove her shirt in the middle of the kitchen, even if it was likely only irritating the injury. In any case, Bennett was walking away to fetch the water that he had requested, and Lora was kneeling down beside him despite his efforts to stop her.

She offered her hands out, looking almost (almost) as concerned as the blonde beside her.

"Aurelie, we need to get you some help," she insisted, "are you alright? You don't feel like you're going to pass out, do you? Do you need us to carry you? Come on, Aura, let's get out of the way."

"She's hurt, Lora, he doesn't think you shou -"

"And we're trying to get this meal out before the students get fussy, Lars. Aurelie, are you okay?"

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 27th, 2711 - Around Mealtime| The Brunnhold Kitchens

Her eyes were bright, a sheen of unshed tears making them look more new-leaf green; her cheeks still remained dry. Aurelie didn't know if she liked the attention that had gathered around her; she hadn't meant to disturb the work. And now look, everyone had to stop to look at her! Just because she was clumsy and hadn't been careful enough. Even Lora, even the blond man she didn't know who had tried to reach out when she took the pot down from the stove. He had taken the pot from her and set it to the side. That was good, she thought. It wouldn't be good if someone tripped on it.

She turned at the sound of her name. He sounded very concerned. That was nice, she thought. Water—water sounded good. Aurelie didn't know what you were supposed to do when you burned yourself this much. It wasn't like when she scalded her hand, or a candle burnt too low. Then she could just put her finger in her mouth or under her arm. Nurse had always said that was better than making it too cold all at once.

Was she alright? No, she wasn't—but she would not say that. She was well enough, she thought. It had stopped hurting, at least. Something told her that the lack of hurting wasn't a good thing and didn't mean that she was alright. But it meant she could move out of the way, at least. Aurelie shook her head. She wasn't going to pass out. She would be just fine.

"N-no. I can stand up." She winced when she took the offered hands and tried to rise up off of the floor; her breath got all sucked in sharply, too. Aurelie bit her lip. Carefully, she came to stand. The effort made her feel a little sick; Aurelie wobbled, slightly. Lora's hands held fast, though, and she didn't think she would fall over.

Once standing, Aurelie looked uncertainly from Lora to the man and back. Was she supposed to move? They didn't seem to agree. But if the meal was late—no, she needed to get out of the way. Lora was right.

"I'm okay," she insisted, though her face was paler than usual. All her freckles stood out in sharp relief. "Really," she added, for the man's benefit. She even tried to smile, but it didn't quite work.

"I don't want to be in the way." Aurelie held onto Lora's hands tightly as the older girl guided her to a quieter corner of the kitchen where she could sit again and not get in anyone's way. Aurelie was grateful to sit down, and not move any more. It had been important, but it had hurt, and she wasn't eager to keep doing it. Gently, she tried to tug her shirt away from her skin, just a little. That caused a fresh wave of pain to wash over her and she cried out, quietly. Aurelie let her shirt go. She would just sit as still as she could, then. What was she supposed to do? If she left it alone... would it be okay?

She was making trouble though, wasn't she? Taking Lora and the man she didn't know away from work... And she hadn't done what Lottie asked. Oh no... ! Aurelie had forgotten about Lottie. The older girl was going to be so angry. Lottie was mean when she was angry, and vindictive.

"I-I'm sorry," Aurelie whispered with her eyes focused on her knees and not looking to anyone around her. She wanted to twist up her skirts in her fists, but the motion would make her shirt drag against her skin. She clenched and unclenched her hands where they were by her sides instead. It helped, to make the fist and then released it. All the muscles bunching up as tight as she could make them, holding steady as long as she could... then release. Over and over.