faderift | and still no fried ice cream, what a tragedy

WHO: Cosima, Church, ALL Y'ALL
WHAT: Frying food. Possibly frying things that aren't food. A slow descent into crazy.
WHEN: During Phase One
WHERE: Gallows kitchens, primarily
NOTES: They made an announcement, this is just during the whole period of time. We'll have toplevels for each of them, and unless specified, there's going to be threadhopping since they're in the same place at the same time.

It had started with a meeting of active minds, more active now than before. And then a gathering of supplies and a taking over of the kitchen between meals. They tried not to be in the way when there was cooking for meals, because otherwise that would be very rude, and they didn't need a whole lot of space to set up what they needed, a makeshift deep fat fryer.

But, of course, because of the Plot, this isn't just gonna be happy fun Rifter food times, so I hope you're not super put off by the sight of two obsessive and restless Rifters making a mess of things and not sleeping and practically forcing fried mostly veggies on everyone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's come partly out of curiosity about the food, and mostly out of concern for her. By now it's rather clear that the Rifters are likely all being hit with the mystery plague, and being sick while in a room with fires and hot oil doesn't seem like a great combination.

"So you're creating food, or making recipes from your world?" Anders asks quietly, having made enough noise (he thinks) while entering to hopefully not startle her. "I've come to possibly taste test some, and to definitely see how you're doing as your friend and as your healer."

Unlike Church, Cosima at least does not seem the worse for wear from the oil specifically; her burns are small and no worse than you'd expect for anyone who's been cooking for days on end. It is obvious, however, that she hasn't slept in some time, and there's a light sheen of sweat on her forehead that has nothing to do with the kitchen's temperature.

"Oh, I guess I missed my check-in," absently, because yes, that's why he's concerned. "But both, to answer your question. We've started with things from home and then experimented with a few different variation. There's a passable plate of onion rings that should still be warm, you can see what you think. The breading should really be thicker, but the seasoning's getting close."

He shakes his head, smiling despite his concern.

"You did miss it, yes." Despite himself, he's reaching over to grab what is apparently an onion ring. It's round, at least. Anders takes a tentative bite. The flavor is mild, a little sweet, and a little savory, and he makes an appreciative noise. "There's also the fact that there seems to be an illness making its way through the Rifters. And you..."

...have better coloring than usual. She's not even blue. All the same, there are the signs of a fever.

"You've likely got it," he says with less cheer than before. Most are suffering. She doesn't seem to be. How can he treat her like a patient and ask her to rest if she's doing relatively better? "Can you slow down a little here?"

"I mean, sure, but we're making lots of progress, and I haven't had this much energy in ages so I've been trying to capitalize. Oh, plus we've also got this list of things to try, we're making good progress. I think it's helping morale."

The list, more than Cosima's actual demeanor, will confirm beyond all doubt she's affected. Anders can see that, at the beginning, her notes are fairly orderly, if referring to many dishes he's unfamiliar with. Her more recent notes are, however, more haphazard. They break off, as she clearly heads down blind allies, and her handwriting gets worse the longer she's gone without sleep.

"And before you ask, we've got plenty of oil, we wouldn't just keep using oil if we were running low."

Debatably true.

"There's a metaphor that can be made here regarding your own oil running low," he says as he looks at the notes. A majority of it is not in the hand he's a little familiar with, especially at the bottom.

"Sometimes one's body lies to them. The energy it seems to have is a spike with a catch, and the resulting exhaustion afterward is worse." The notes are carefully set back down. "I know you cannot possibly enjoy having people on your case, but you might crash hard from this, Cosima." Being both healer and friend can make for complicated situations, but he's fairly certain personal feelings aren't clouding his instincts here.

"Can I convince you to take a nap?"

"I'm not tired," she insists, with a carelessness that's surely more the euphoria than an actual cavalier disregard for what happens to people who don't sleep. "I don't even feel like I could lie down if I tried, I suppose I'll get plenty of rest when I crash."

At least she doesn't quote the old Earth saying about sleeping when she's dead; she's not quite that far gone.

"I know people are concerned because they care, it's just I'm making really good progress and I don't know when I'm going to feel this good again. And hey, if we get potatoes more tasty, morale is probably going to go up, right, so it's not like I'm not helping the Inquisition at all, either. I think we've almost got hash browns perfect, hash browns are a game changer. I hear they're good with bacon if you eat bacon."

She doesn't linger, doesn't even look back at him much, a flurry of constant activity. While her expression is purposeful, the actual activity seems almost aimless.

"We still need ketchup though. For the hash browns." That would be Church butting in where he doesn't need to be. "But that can come later, cuz it needs to be right first before we slather it with condiments."

For his part, he does look tired, even if he doesn't act it. Distracted, though, that he definitely acts, unable to truly focus on any one task for more than a couple minutes at most. Right now, he's deciding to spend his time washing and skinning couple more potatoes, though how long that'll last is anyone's guess.

"Are you bothering the lady?" He's not angry, actually quirks a grin over at the pair, though if the answer happens to be 'yes' he'll not hesitate to do something about it. "Don't you know that's rude? Sleep is for the weak. Or, like, the really tired? Also the dead. It's for people not us."

He shakes his head at Church, slightly bemused. What is ketchup? Or hash browns? There's a lot that's brown right now in the kitchen.

"Sleep is for those that would like to stay not dead, in case you'd not noticed." His voice is wry. "Also for those who would like to not be covered in burns, Maker's breath, man. Are you trying to burn off your limbs? I'll gladly be rude if it means the two of you aren't keeling over, her from the crash and you from being burned half-through. Breaks are good. Important."

And he's a hypocrite, because he's not taking breaks and doesn't even have the high they seem to be running on.

"I'm not burned," Cosima points out, absently. (...mostly, if not 100%, true.) "But I should probably let you top me up with spirit healing for clone disease, don't want to start coughing blood on the food or anything."

...while Cosima is generally a cheery person, that level of optimism is almost certainly the illness. She's also not entirely sure if she's told Church that she's ill before, but it's not worrying her at the moment either way.

To Anders: "If you want to hang around a little, I can take a break when I hit a natural pausing spot. Save me a trip to the infirmary."

(If Anders suspects she will forget to take a break even with him sitting right there, he's not wrong.)

and still no fried ice cream, what a tragedy

later in the week!

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