1080/Cookies: The Bakening

Cookies: The Bakening
Date of Scene:	05 December 2014
Location:	Galianda
Synopsis:	The advent of Courage Cookies.
Cast of Characters:	628, 633, 647

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Kamon Lionward (628) has posed:
The directions Kamon gave on the Union chatter band go to Galianda's warp gate, which opens onto the Great Span. The Span itself is an enormous series of bridges to which the continent-like plates are connected to one another, lit with lamps and full of foot traffic. It overlooks the clockwork core of the world, the plates slowly moving along the armillary sphere-esque 'tracks' via giant spars that extend from beneath. Phoenix flies over the horizon, the titanic fire-bird that is their replacement for a sun orbiting the world in a graceful arc.

All in all, it's a pretty awe-inspiring sight. Kamon, who is waiting at the gate, gives anyone who comes through it for the first time ample time to take it all in before he plans to drag them away to the kitchen.

Which is on the moon.

Which is /also/ connected to the bridge.

Yeah.

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     Soan is also waiting at the gate. Contrary to his usual fare, he's even is visible right now, arms crossed over his chewst as he leans back against a particularly informative post. He gives similar explanation about the Great Span, offering some cold beverage in case things gets a little nuttier, or certain takes it a little too badly. You never know.

Noiela (647) has posed:
Running. Not the tacticians best trait, as she breaks into a lopsided sort of stagger out from the warpgate whilst gamely attempting to grapple with the contents of a bulging outer pocket.
Stopping a moment, she pauses to swipe ineffectually at overgrown bangs, taking this opportunity to recover her breath with some dignity. A glance up puts paid to such an endevour, as the sheer breadth of the plains before her steals what little air is left in her lungs. Belatedly registering the young men patiently standing to her immediate left.
Introductions are in order. "Hello?" Her tone betrays a slight apprehension, as she studies her supposed contact. "I'm looking for a Master Kamon." Lifting her shoulders into an emphatic shrug, the hint of a smile touches her flushed face. "Quite a world you two live in. Or is this the usual type of landscape?" It is then Soan and company begin to lay out the bare bones of what their universe is like. She listens to it without a single word, unconsciously leaning in to catch every precious drop of information. Knowledge is power.

Kamon Lionward (628) has posed:
Kamon raises his hand a little awkwardly, looking the running tactician over when she comes swaggering out of the gate. "Uh, that's me. My dad's the 'Master,' though; I'm just Kamon. This is Soan." He gestures at the slightly-rogueish sort with him -- and then at the sight over the edge of the bridge.

"This is... Galianda. We're only on the Span, though; we're gonna go up to Chocobo," he points off to one side, at a bridge that curves upwards towards a moon covered in a massive cityscape, "which is, um, more normal."

The Span hangs over empty air, with the ticking, moving core of the world far, far below. There aren't any seas or anything connecting them; in fact, the closest 'land mass' appears to be one of the plates, those not-quite-floating continents. This one appears to have a surface of jagged, gleaming metal. One in the distance looks to be covered by one enormous thunderstorm, with nothing between them but the distant 'rails' of the world.

Kamon explains as they go. This is just how the world is, and has always been, since the First Gods sacrificed themselves to create the Plates from their bodies. They're going to Chocobo, the moon, which isn't actually one of the former gods at all, but is where the school is. The lamps along the walkway make them move much faster -- magic -- and they cross the Span in a matter of minutes.

ONE JUMP CUT LATER

The Academy itself is kind of like a city unto itself, a mix of the modern and the magical. Kamon cuts them through most of it, getting to the sprawling dorms, and leads the way into the unoccupied kitchen: really a kind of common room crossed with one, anyway. It's modern, totally outfitted with whatever it is you can imagine you might need for cooking things, and has a slew of paper bags spread over the countertops containing all manner of ingredients.

"Nobody was using it anyway," Kamon remarks as he steps in and aside. He holds the door. "Most people around here don't bother cooking their own meals."

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     Soan smiles at the first comer, waving a hand as he pushes off. He does look remarkably rogue-ish. Maybe it's the eyebrows, someone with eyebrows this pointy couldn't be possibly anything other than a person of the thief-like persuasions.

     "Oh yes, thanks you. Hi, I'm Soan." The Thief says as he is presented, moving along with Kamon as he explains to the young woman how their world works in rough, quick details. He adds a few facts that he forget that he find interesting: how the plate moves through the year, as well as the 'magic' road that is the Span was working, which involves a few comments on how Haste-based magic are very useful when you need to cross vast distances.

     THEN, JUMP CUT.

     "Mostly because the vast majority of students are lazy gits and have money to keep eating out, anyhow." Soan walks in, after he let the guests go inside first.

Noiela (647) has posed:
Disorentated by the rapid pace of movement and the visual overload, their resident newbie stays mute the entire trip over, rubbing her sore neck as they eventually reach the kitchen. A crick formed from the cultural whiplash, is a safe assumption.

When Kamon and his friend of the arched browline remark upon their fellow students, a faint nod and the tactician is ready to begin. Sleeves rolled up, appraisal of one's own tools. With a satisfied quirk of the mouth, she gives a polite bend at the waist for the one keeping the door open before stepping inside.

A noisy rustle as she bends over the counter to summarily inspect the contents of their impromptu shopping. "You got everything...in bulk. Exactly uh, how many cookies did you plan to eat? Alright."
Prising open a flimsy cardboard lid, she counts out three brown speckled eggs, gingerly laying them out in a congo line on the closest surface to hand. A pause follows, shoulders straightening from their habitual slouch as the tactician settles into commader mode. "Mas...Kamon, weigh out a hundred and fifty grams of plain flour. Soan, I want you to prepare the chocolate. Chop it finely. I'll gather the rest of the ingredients and..." A brief look at the oven, its numerous knobs causing her to quail slightly. "Uh...actually, you set the oven. I'll chop." Drawers begin to rattle as she searches high and low for the perfect knife.

Kamon Lionward (628) has posed:
Kamon offers her a smile to the little bow. He follows them in, pulling off his heavy coat and his sword and hanging them up nearby. It looks like there are hooks suited for both. You know what they say: a well-armed student body is a polite student body, or something like that.

"Well... I figured that the club would want some, and that usually turns into some kind of baking frenzy, sooo... preparing for the, uh, eventuality, you know?" Kamon grins a little sheepishly. "Some of that is my groceries, too. Three birds, one stone!" He could probably hit that, he thinks, if he had to. It's trickier when it's a metaphorical bird.

"Uh -- right!" Kamon hurries off to get something to measure with and haul out the flour. He moves the weighty bag with one hand, fishing out a knife of his own to open it with. He gestures with it, pointing at one of the countertops nearby with the tip without really moving it away from the bag. Unsafe, you know. "Knife block over there, mixing stuff should be under the counter."

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     Soan finds that the lady is taking this in very well! Noiela, she called herself? She is adapting pretty well even considering that they have been here just for an hour or so. Sure, the oven scares her, but it scares /him/ too. And he's a great Dragoon from Bahamut, not that she'd know that, or even know what it means.

     "Ahhhh, alright," Soan lets out, a little hesitantly, a sprinkle of bravardo on his smile as he walks to the oven, giving it a look over. He ignores all of the valves of the appliance, reaching straight for the oven proper. It makes an inquisitive 'beep' sound, before he hammers repeatedly an arrow-shaped button. At the center of the panel, numbers grows higher, before he confirms it.

     He assume a medium fire would be a pretty good start on things.

     "Some aren't as sharp as they should be," Soan comments, his job done for the moment as he goes over the knives, picking one out to hand it at Noiela, to help with the cutting. "Here, this one's good."

Noiela (647) has posed:
Noiela visibly relaxes under the display of teenage awkwardness that pervades the cosily warm kitchen, stepping over to lightly curl her fingers over the knife hilt, wrist angled to ensure little more than a cursory brush of the palm is the extent of their physical contact.

"Allow me-it can spill unexpectedly and...I can pull off flour in my hair." Her spare hand gives a light tug of wry acknowledgement on a pale lock, made apparent by a paired smile.

Once she has bestowed the knife back on its owner, attention falls upon Soan and his proffered suggestion with a sidelong glance towards the oven squatting in a silently menancing way all machines beyond the viewers grasp attain.
"Yes. It does cause quite a stir-sugar is the legal drug of choice, hm? Thank you." Laying down the sturdy planked cutting board, Noiela brandishes the knife and selects an uncluttered area to begin. A steady ratatap fills the silence.

Noiela (647) has posed:
Elbows bent, head down and the slightest hint of a protruding tongue as the tactician gets busy in a rapid flurry of strokes that hammer down on the poor, unoffending wood translates soon to a neat pile of sliced fragments. Surveying her work, she transmits additional orders. "Cream the sugar-weighed out at a hundred and forty, with butter-hundred grams-then..." A seconds pause, mentally rummaging around for the next step in the process. "Baking powder and flour. Sift them together into the bowl."

Kamon Lionward (628) has posed:
Kamon allows Noiela to call the shots. He does weighing and measuring, getting precisely the amount she wants, and chuckles a little about the flour thing. "Well, I guess there's that. We actually live around here and have access to a shower, though," he points out. There's a slight pause. "How far /did/ you have to go, to get here, I mean? I guess distances are really relative in a place with some crazy teleportation gates --"

She gives a bunch of instructions. Kamon catches about half of them. He blinks a few times, looking quizzically at Noiela from the side and then slooowly turning his head to regard Soan instead, leaning back on his heels a bit to look around the tactician occupied with the butcher block.

He mouths, 'did you get any of that?'

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     Soan furrows his brows at the instruction. Okay, that does not sound all that hard, honestly. He thinks, anyway. At /first/ it didn't sound all that hard. He gives a look at the oven's progress as they talk for a bit, freezing as she gives theses instructions.

     The young thief, almost on cue, looks at Kamon. He shrugs silently, motioning with his hand hurriedly, 'no, let's make something up, go!' while wordlessly mouthing with his.... well, his mouth.

     Soan takes it on. He takes out a bowl, reaching for the ingredients, notably the cream. He pours a little bit of it into, reaching over for a spoon, slamming it into the butter to get a good scoop, then mixing it into the cream.

     Then hurriedly add a few spoons of sugar into the mixt, energetically mixting it up. He leaves the powder to Kamon.

Noiela (647) has posed:
"Distance? Immeasurable, in terms of concieving how-" Noiela waves away the thought, blade swishing through the air. Just short of giving herself a lopsided haircuit. "There are bathing facilities in the temporary accomodation." Back turned, she does not notice the travesty slowly cooking itself in the background, taking a cursory glance at the mixture when upending the mixture of delicious chocolate dust that is her hamfisted attempt to 'chop fine'.

Stooping down to yank open the oven, she declares it ready. "Just mix it all up..." Whether or not the dough has recieved its eggy baptism, she adroitly cracks open a few, slopping on a generous amount of powder to what may already be saturated with the stuff.

Round she goes, establishing order and naively expecting her team to be educated in the various baking terms.
Thus the travesty begins.

Kamon Lionward (628) has posed:
Kamon hurriedly gets to it. He finds the baking powder and flour, hastily mixing amounts that appear to be 'about right' and 'pretty close.' Then he... sifts it? He's pretty sure what he's doing is sifting. He's sifted sand before! It's like that, right?

To cover up his momentary (read: constant) culinary panic, he attempts conversation again. This is immediately /after/ jerking away from the waved knife, elbowing the bag of flour and starting an avalanche along the counter. He snags it, trying to downplay the growing disaster.

"Er, I guess I mean, you were moving pretty quick, so I wasn't sure if you were being chased or --" Kamon, having left his own cutting implement on the other counter, snatches a wooden spoon up from a nearby standing bin. He waggles it at the tumbling flour, having somehow punctured the bag a second time, and whispers, "Wind Slash," as quietly as he's able.

*FWOOMPH*

There's a momentary plume of flour cast into the air. It clears as fast as Kamon can swing a spoon, which is alarmingly fast. Ideally, Noiela won't even notice until there's only a little on the counter.

The ceiling, incidentally, is now coated in flour.

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     Truth be told, Soan was doing rather well! Mixing things together didn't require too much of a testing knowledge of the culinary arts, after all! "What are you two talking about? You two met before, or just talking how quick she came at our Gate?" The Thief asks over mixing the likely very wrong ratio of sugar, butter and cream with a spoon. There's either far too much sugar into it, or far too much butter. The result is some sort of barely mixed mash as things refused to dillute into the cream. He knows this much. He worked with potions before. That means not enough liquid to absorb it!

     So he add more cream! It's brilliant!

     Then Kamon explodes the room with flour. The thief scrambles from the cream carton, the thing slipping from his fingers. He is a brilliant thief, but even the slickest representation of the concept of 'Nimble with his fingers' would be hard pressed to catch a slippery cream carton with already slippery hands. The young thief lets out a few annoyed, surprised noises as he attempts to grab the carton, spilling it content messily about until he catches it after a few passes.

     "We're good!" He declares, not too sure about his own words. "We're fine! Everything's under control!"

Noiela (647) has posed:
"Chased by time-" Noiela breaks off whatever joke she may have been about to execute or slaughter (depending on your interpretation) to take over beating the combined ingredients into a bunch of deceptively appetitizing gooey dough. Idly dusting her shoulder flour steadily drifting down festively coat everything and everyone.

Stepping over the carnage and selectively deaf just like a true patron of the culinary arts. Grandma and her lumps of indigestible cookies she calls 'oatcakes' would shed a tear at such sublime indifference. Fingering the spare wooden spoon, she instructs the thief to assist her in ladling out the mixture onto pregreased baking sheets.
"It looks like it...are you feeling well?" A frown creases her forehead as she notes down the panicky atmosphere, laying a light hand on Soan's shoulder that is quickly withdrawn afterwards. "If you want, I'll take over from this point on." Tones usually verging on brusque are unexpectedly gentle, enhanced subtly by the quirked smile she grants both in turn. "Next, the easy part. Waiting."
Doling out the precise amounts, the girl fussily spaces out eighteen generous portions of chocolate studded mixture. Then into the oven with a yank and bang to begin baking.

Wiping the flour grimed sweat from her brow, she exclaims rather pre-emptively. "Good job, comrades!" (repose?)

Kamon Lionward (628) has posed:
"Just on the radio," Kamon asides to Soan, "but I don't know many people who run out of the World Gate like that." Not that he knows many people who come out of it at all. "Sooo --"

Kamon winces a look of growing horror building on his face while Soan makes a mess of the other side of the kitchen. He's doing damage control on his end. Excepting the big ol' white space on the ceiling, the spilled flour is more or less contained to the counter. It's an illusion of cleanliness and he is endeavoring to upkeep.

"Er, we're fine, why? Sorry, just a, uh, a long day, that's all!" Yeah, that's it. Kamon smiles, waiting till Noiela goes to actually put the lumps on the sheet, and then tosses a clean rag on the sly directly over her head to Soan for the creamy catastrophe on his end of things.

Once it's all in motion, he exhales in relief. Victory? Victory. Ish. "Phew. Baking is... harder than I remember."

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     Soan is quick to work on cleaning up his own side of the mess he created, grabbing large swath of paper towels and start wiping off the cream that's poured over the counter, a bit over his face and his sleeves. He is mercifully rather quick about it, reaching a sort of ... semi-clean state as far as he's concerned that is acceptable to his bachelor-like standards.

     "Uh, yes, we're fine, yes, thanks you." The Thief lets out at her patting on his shoulder, giving a smile, catching that rag to start cleaning up that cream appocalypse even more effectively. At least it wont be nearly as sticky as it should be. Cream is hell.

     Then, it's done. The terror is baking. Who knows how it's gonna turn out?

     "Yeah, no kidding." Soan mutters, leaning against said counter to cover the mess. Quick. A subject to talk with. "So, on the radio, huh? Where are you from, Noiela?"

Noiela (647) has posed:
"Over the radio, yes." Noiela overhears the aside, possibly leading to speculation over what else the seemingly unaware amateur baker has percieved frantically going on in the background. Time to invest in sign language lessons.
Leaning against the doorway with a keen stare on the lit oven, she tucks back the unruly hair curling at her cheek using a hand. "Whew. We tipped the scales and then some...fortunate for us the oven is spacious. Last time Mo...I baked cookies, or 'biscuits as we call them, it turned out to be one giant, blobby biscuit that broke up into cake crumbs." Her voice wavers notably on the cut off 'mother', to be resumed with barely a hitch. Splaying her fingers wide, she motions with a drooping sleeve at the space around them. "Curious how it feels like a kitchen from my world, even taking into account the tech-nology."
As if rising from a deep sleep, the girl rights herself and gives a little, irritable shake of the head, dislodging whatever has taken hold to add that soupcon of melancholic reflection.

Scrabbling round mentally for another subject, her brain eventually clocks on to Soans question. Give it time.

"A place called..." Hesitation, name on the tip of her tongue. "I don't remember much." She murmurs, brief twitch visible at her temple. "For the present, I am staying in temporary residence. The...station."
Amazing how a trained eye can gloss over the light patina of cream based grease slowly hardening on top once immaculate surfaces. Distraction successful? "Hard to describe a world not-not present." Fumbling, she deploys a query of her own. "Tell me, how would you two paint a picture of your own world without an easy, to hand reference?"

The gentle whiff of soda blasted cookie meanwhile, begins to infuse the air.

Kamon Lionward (628) has posed:
Kamon and Soan have a sort of primitive sign language going on. It's mostly battlefield code, though, and telling him 'knife her now' is less useful than hoping he knows Kamon well enough and Kamon knows /Soan/ well enough to get the point across with worried glances. It's kind of worked? Kind of?

"Well, uh, our magitech is apparently weird compared to most of the technology out there," Kamon offers, "so maybe it's a little bit of that?" He has no other idea. He doesn't press the 'mom' thing, though; that's just rude.

"Oh, the Union base. Gotcha." He nods. Kamon scratches his head. "Um... I'd probably say it was the framework of a big metal ball, with a bunch of different pieces floating around on the rims and a big ol' bridge between 'em all. Well," he appends, "/almost/ all of 'em." He pauses a beat. "If you're from one of the places where everything's dirt and rock, we'll, uh, understand." Mostly.

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     In this case, 'shank her' is not a very useful signal to make. Neither is 'Steal all her stuff'. Soan return the glance, a little worriedly. It did worked. At least, it /seemed/ like it worked. Whenever it actually did is something left to future them to find out.

     "Hm... that seems common. A friend of mine seems to not remember much up until a few months ago about her own world." Soan says, leaning against the counter still, furrowing his brows at the lady. His arms crosses over his chest, drumming at his biceps. He nods at Kamon. Pressing on a cut word like that would be just rude. "I'd describle it like that, too. We're... it's kind of dawning on us that our world's somewhat different than some of other people, so." It's weird, thought. Galianda is just fine, but he supposes things are different out there.

Noiela (647) has posed:
Noiela seems to comprehend Kamon, judging solely by how she shies away from any further interrogation on the subject. "Mostly." Unconsciously echoing his thoughts, index finger tapping her chin as she muses. "I would say it must be, given my inability to recall anything more advanced than pen and paper." Diplomatically adding, "Probably no more than others...and given magic seems to have certain aspects in common, there probably is a world akin to yours out there." Burrowing arms into their respective sleeves, she gives a perfunctory sniff. "Mm. So..." Small talk eludes her, as does the plethora of questions she wants to ask, but cannot quite form the words to blurt out. Shes just a stranger, even if her age probably matches theirs. "Uh...I do know a vital difference between our worlds is how you utilise magic. A fellow student of yours I met recently managed to heal without any kind of foci...an object to channel magical power."

Kamon Lionward (628) has posed:
"Magic is... it's /magic/," he says lamely, "at least -- I mean, it's a fundamental thing here, you know? It's like..." He struggles to come up with a comparison. "...you can't have things without it. Anything, really. I don't know how there are world where it doesn't exist." He leans against a clean section of countertop, sighing. "I'm not a teacher, or I'd probably be able to explain this better..."

The foci thing is related to something he kinda understands, though. "Some people need them for certain things. White Mages and Black Mages sometimes use certain rods or staves to channel spells before they master them, um... samurai can draw on their weapons to do mystical things... my Job lets me perform a lot of elemental techniques, but they're not really /magic/ in the same way a Mystic Knight's Spellblade techs are, and I need /some/ sort of weapon for it." He pauses a moment. "But you can't do /any/ without a focus?"

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     Kamon is on a roll as far exposition as far Soan is concerned. He does, however, knows a little bit more about the finer details of how their magic works. He has to know, after all, to deal with magical traps.

     "Yeah," The Thief says, shoving hands into his pockets this time. "A focus helps most of the time, but it's hardly nessecary for using most magical applications, particularly small ones. Everyone here has, ah, a sort of Magical Particle quotient, of sorts."

     He lifts a hand out of his pockets, waving it demonstratively. It's not very helpful. "My own Job is not very affiliated with Magic, but at least I understand it on a technomagic level. In a lot of case, tiny spells create effects. What /sort/ of magic can you do, then?"

Noiela (647) has posed:
"Only hexes, a sort of...minor magic. Cantrip was the word. A parlour trick." Noiela struggles herself to articulate, astonishment wrinkling her brow when the notion of mages who can conjure up magical destruction and healing on a whim is brought up. Spreading her arms wide, she explains best as she is able using motions to emphasise a point when required.

"Tomes provide a sort of...repository. Certainly we can imbue other items with raw energy-like supplying fuel to one of your machines. The effects ultimately are decided by how the item is crafted or," An outward flick of one slender wrist. "Scroll in this instance."

At Soans open demonstration she cracks a small smile, "Hand waving does occur. I use tomes to shape my power into...elements. You could say we lack focus." Joke deployed, sans any outward cue beyond a possible second smile. Subtle expressionist, this one. "Plus dark magic...mostly unexplored, due to the danger involved. Primal powers, that man was not meant to wield, if you ask certain groups-all I know is...whatever we tap into is part and parcel of us. Our soul-and so most magicians don't live very long if they take any undue risks."

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
Soan listens to her explanation, giving a small thoughtfull frown. They, of course, have their own field of study that are more fell than others. Soan, as a Dragoon, is very well familiar of the luring power of Chaos can whisper into the minds of it's victims.

     Soan Sagittarius, however, does not know about the fell abilities of the Corruptive powers of Chaos. He is a Thief. A talented thief, at that.

     "Not every magic is open for everyone to use." Soan says, quietly. He can fall on common knowledge. "Some are more dangerous than others. Darkness is not really all that dangerous, but it can go bad if you take in too much without being prepared. In a way, Light magic is very similar. Plus... magicians being magicians, they love to experiment and try to push current theories."