Perfect chaos, Aurelie thought with no little satisfaction. She had been there since dawn, and would likely be there until sunset. All of her was already weary by this hour, her shoulders aching and her feet too. She had pinned her hair back from her face, to keep it from sticking to her sweat-soaked cheek while she labored over a large pot of the sauce that was to be served, once chilled, with dinner.
Tired was good. Sore and aching was good. If she was tired, she wasn't thinking. And if she ached, she couldn't worry. Aurelie couldn't keep herself from it at all times of the day—she had plenty of time over dinner, or when she was at the baths listening to the other women talk, or lying in her bed trying to sleep. More than enough time to pull apart the other day, and all that had come after.
Which was, mostly, nothing. She hadn't expected otherwise, but it wrenched something in her all the same.
Work, though. There was work. Idle hands led to idle thoughts, after all. Switching from sauce to several trays of rising bread rolls, Aurelie was occupied enough to not feel sad or anxious at all. In fact, she felt slightly cheerful. Nothing was behind, no young scullery maid or prep cook had gotten in trouble or shown up too ill to be put to work. If the kitchen was a great humming machine, today it was well-oiled and moving exactly as it should.
For a while, anyway. As Aurelie put the last tray into the oven, she found that the flow of energy had diverted somewhat. A ripple, like a rock thrown in a pond perhaps. Nothing had ground to a halt—nothing so dramatic. But the tone had shifted. Aurelie looked around, puzzled. It was like everyone was diverting their attention from something. Or, she thought, someone.
She followed the line of curious glances, wiping her hands off on her apron. She had a little bit of leeway now. Slack in her schedule, while the sauce set and the rolls began to bake. Plenty of time to investigate what all the fuss was about. As she approached the door, her eyes widened just a little.
The young man—at least, Aurelie thought he was so from his manner of dress; his face was delicate enough she wasn't sure—standing in the doorway would have been out of place enough from a distance. Small and slimly built, he was clearly of galdori stock. Even his clothes seemed to announce it. Not elaborate, but well-made and flattering. Certainly nothing like the drab blue that all of them were wearing.
That, then, was the most surprising thing of all. As Aurelie got closer—too close, her curiosity getting the better of her—she had expected a field. But there was nothing, nothing at all. Clearly, he was like the rest of them, but not... one of them. And equally as clearly not Mugrobi either, although Aurelie supposed he could be. All things were possible. Even, evidently, a non-gated passive standing in the kitchen of Brunnhold University for reasons yet unknown to her.
Everyone else hung back, pretending to be at their work. Aurelie should have done so, too. But something at the back of her neck prickled. Her curiosity overcame her. She stepped forward, just a little, and looked up, also just a little.
"Are you, er, looking for someone... sir...?" Her small, heart-shaped face was creased in a puzzled frown.