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 Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 2:54 pm
Asmadai had finally ventured out of his room and taken the long way to get to the kitchens in order to avoid the Norwegian man he had met earlier in the gardens. Honestly, what had Einar been thinking- not only were both of them men, but Asmadai was a priest. Priests were chaste! That meant no kissing. At all.
Besides. He was pretty sure he liked women (not like he had proof; he'd never dated or anything but he would know if he would ever be of a mind to kiss a man. Especially Einar.) With a prominent scowl, he slammed a cabinet door shut and started to make coffee (at least the coffee pot looked unharmed, he thought as he stared at what he was pretty sure were the remains of a microwave). Since it was getting near the lights-out time, he could be pretty certain that no one would come in, which meant he could be as loud as he wanted, and take up as much space as he wanted with his book and his coffee.
So he did; when the pot made a happy dinging sound, he poured himself a mug and sat at the table with a formidable tome opened midway through in front of him. Angeloatry was interesting, but... dry. Which was how he liked his during-coffee books to be; he could read and think his own thoughts all at once. That is, until someone else came in the kitchen-
Which someone promptly did.
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 3:37 pm
He'd spent a restless night at LOTUS, one that probably was doomed to be the formal patterns for the evenings to come from here on out, and Einar winced as he rotated his shoulders. Fresh from waking, he found that he hadn't even made it to a bed or anything before he'd crashed into sleeping. The floor had been his bed, blanket, and pillow (which explained the stiffness), and his formal uniform his nightgown (which explained the itch on his back).
Quickly waking up enough to dress out of what he was wearing, he paused a moment or two to dig through a small satchel that contained the only clothes he'd ever owned. In his time Einar wasn't that big on fashion - his uniform served most purposes -and had very little to offer himself in the ways of fashion. He managed to own a pair of jeans that weren't too tattered, and a turtlenecked sweater that wasn't too patched, and as he slipped them on over his frame he was mildly glad there wasn't a mirror in here. The last thing he needed this early was a shock, and as he slid his shoes back on his feet Eianr made his way out the door.
He followed the directions from memory, taking into account the landmarks that the priest from the evening before had pointed out despite the fading light, and as he came upon the room that he recalled had been named 'the kitchen' he cracked his beck from side to side to get rid of any tension. Once he felt relaxed enough since breakfast was an easy task, he pushed open the doors, stepped in, paled at the sight of the Priest, and stepped back out.
". . . .heh heh."
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 3:46 pm
Without the eye-searing pink of the evening before, he might have missed the personage who had walked in. Except he walked in, then left, which meant it was exactly one person who might have reason to avoid him. "You can come in, Einar," Asmadai said. After all, there was really no reason to be 'squicked' about something he might have meant only as a joke. He had encountered people like that before, after all. "I don't bite." ...or kiss, he added mentally as he turned a page in his book.
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 4:13 pm
As his name was called by a man he'd played a mild trick on last night, mild at least to Einar's range of teasing, Einar couldn't help but feel he had to obey. Not only was Asmadai a man older than him but he was also a priest, and if Einar's memory served he had always been taught to obey those who follow the Lord.
Was it obey or respect? He couldn't remember that part exactly, but it didn't matter that much to him as he stepped back inside the room with a bow of his head.
"Good morning Father, I trust you slept well?"
Awkward. So very awkward.
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 4:19 pm
"I am blessed with the gift of dreamless sleep," he intoned. And then, to fill the awkward silence, he continued, "There's coffee in the pot, and if it's food you're looking for, you should be able to find it in the fridge." The priest made no mention of how he had been slamming things in anger and irritation at Einar just minutes before. He was, after all, pretending that last night had ended before he had even asked about the eyepatch.
"And how did you sleep?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 6:28 pm
"Like a log, I suppose would be the best phrase. I didn't even make it to my bed and somehow ended up sleeping on the floor. I wonder if that's the reason why my neck and back are so stiff."
At the mention of being sore he rotated his shoulders one more time while taking cautious steps here and there, treading as if the ground were thin ice. Einar still wasn't sure how the priest had taken his joke from the night before, but considering he was at least being spoken to he figured things couldn't be all that bad.
As he looked around the kitchen for this so called 'coffee pot', he wondered what exactly it was. He'd never drank much of anything other than water and whatever spirits were offered at the local taverns, so it wasn't impossible that he wouldn't be able to recognize one on a first glance. His parents had always drank tea at his home which only added to his confusion, and the boy never really went anywhere to sample different things.
"By the way, what's coffee and what's a coffee pot? A place you store it in?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 6:37 pm
He grimaced a little, feeling an odd twinge of pity for the man. How did Einar get that exhausted, anyway? Moving in hadn't been that stressful to Asmadai, anyway. He stirred his coffee (not like there was much point, it was black) and stared at the page, reading the same sentences over and over. "It's a drink. Caffeinated, which means it helps you wake up." After standing and pulling down a second mug, he asked, "Would you like to try some?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 6:55 pm
"Sure. As long as it doesn't taste like dirt I'll pretty much drink anything."
He held his left hand out to accept the mug when it would be offered his way, and he let out a small yawn as he rubbed his eye with his right hand. After rubbing away the sleep he moved his hand over to continue with his left eye, only to startle and stop as skin connected with hard cloth instead of flesh once more.
How many times now had he forgotten and done this? It made a sheepish smile creep onto his face, and as he turned and looked downwards it also seemed to de-age to boy a few years. He certainly wasn't the youngest here at LOTUS (or so he thought so far) so why did he feel like it when in front of the priest?
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 7:15 pm
He smiled. "It definitely does not taste like dirt. It's interesting, though, the first time you drink it." When the mug was full, he passed it to Einar and settled back into his spot at the table. Really, he anticipated the Norwegian's reaction to it. Asmadai certainly had amused his fellow students the first time he'd taken a sip of coffee. "You can add things to it, if you like," he added, pointing out one of the many cabinets.
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 7:24 pm
Einar took the mug with some thanks and lifted the slightly fragrant cup to his lips, taking a short sniff before he tilted enough of it back so that a few drops passed into his mouth.
"....Blech."
If the reaction Amasdai wanted to see was the coffee slightly running out of Einar's mouth and onto his shirt as his body outright refused to swallow it, then he got an eyeful from Einar. He used the back of his sleeve to clean his face off more or less to prevent the liquid from drying and leaving a sticky stain.
While it didn't taste like dirt it certainly didn't taste like how he remembered coffee to be (?), and he quickly took up the offer for condiments in the cubard and fridge. There had to be cream somewhere in there, and he wasn't going to drink coffee like this just straight black. At least, not on an empty stomach.
"Father, are you wanting cream or anything?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 7:44 pm
"No, it's fine," he said, smiling into his own cup. He remembered spitting out his coffee, the first time he had tried it. The fact that he wasn't wearing coffee in his hair was testament to the other man's sheer culinary fortitude. "You adapt to it, after a while. Feel free to add it to your own, though." Then he set down the mug and walked over to the fridge, leaving it conspicuously unattended while he sought out something among the multitudes of leftovers.
Nor did he mention to Einar that the cupboard with the sugar and coffee flavorings also had alcohol in it. Asmadai was pretty sure that Einar could read English, since he could speak it, and so didn't think it necessary.
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Posted: Thu Aug 28, 2008 1:47 pm
As he flipped through the cupboards it was apparent that Einar could not read English so early in the morning as he pushed objects here and there, squinting at the funny writing on the labels. Just because the boy spoke a language fluently didn't mean he had to remember how to read or write it. He came across a different bottle every now and then that he didn't recognize on sight alone, and as he took the lids off each one to get a smell he debated on what would be best.
He certainly needed a step to help him wake up this morning, and that last bottle he opened smelt rather interesting and made his eyes water, so he decided that without further ado Einar would add whatever it was to his cup. Only, of course, to encounter a problem as he turned to look back down at where his mug sat. Right next to it sat Asmadai's, full with the same color stuff and smelling the exact same, and since Einar couldn't remember which belonged to whom he decided to add the fun pep to both mugs.
"Well, I hope whatever this was it helps wake me up a bit more. I've got something of a headache."
After tossing the empty bottle into the trashcan nearby, he took the closest mug to himself and raised it to his lips, taking one final sniff before drinking. Cheers!
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Posted: Thu Aug 28, 2008 2:00 pm
"It will," he said seriously as he took the free mug. Apparently he hadn't found what he wanted, as the priest had returned from the refrigerator empty-handed. Glancing into his mug, he sighed. Sometimes he toyed with the idea of buying a unique cup for his coffee, just so people would stop stealing it. But then he would remember that there was always more coffee, and it probably was an honest mistake.
Taking a sip, he turned a page. The coffee tasted odd- which was strange since it had been fine just a moment ago. But he chalked it up to general morning weirdness, which sometimes happened.
(The fact that the words in his book seemed a little shaky all of the sudden seemed even stranger than the odd taste of his coffee.) "Your headache is probably from sleeping in an awkward position. It seems likely, anyway."
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Posted: Thu Aug 28, 2008 5:56 pm
Einar didn't know why the priest was suddenly seeming to be a bit different after drinking his coffee, if at all the youth could notice, and as he took larger swallows of the strange tasting concoction he decided that his headache indeed had gone away. It was replaced instead with a rather warm feeling, like he'd been taking a shower and left the water running onto his head, and he let out a contented sigh.
His stomach felt slightly off, like there was a pain in the pit of his guts, but he ignored whatever it was with another swallow of his coffee. The more he drank the better it tasted (to him) and the more warm his head felt. He was almost sorry when he drained the cup to the dregs and slammed it down, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand again. Eianr wasn't too big on napkins if he had sleeves that weren't his uniform around to use.
"You know, my headache is gone but I feel like I got punched in the gut. Maybe it's bad to drink coffee on an empty stomach?"
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Posted: Thu Aug 28, 2008 6:04 pm
"I've never had a problem," Asmadai said, resting his head on one hand. "I've been drinking it for... for..." Usually this was a number he could pull out of his head almost instantly, but it evaded his grasp this time. "A long, long time."
Deciding it was definitely the coffee making his head so strange, he set it down. "It's acidic. So maybe..." Damn, where did that train of thought go? Giving up, Asmadai shut his book and sighed. "Maybe it's just too early for coffee?" But it was never too early for coffee. He was confusing himself.
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