Before the War : Grinding Bones

It is an oddly pleasant novelty for Ramona to shape dough with her hands. She's used to steel and iron, after all, and dough is just so much more yielding. It feels like an easy job for her muscles, while still scratching that creative itch in her brain. Pounding it with her fists, kneading it, rolling it around, cupping it into little rolls, so much lighter and gentler. Her hips sway back and forth as if to music, and she draws in a deep, contented breath, inhaling the kitchen's bouquet; raw dough and flour, fresh baked bread, spices and frying onions, chopped vegetables, meat and cheeses, and just enough beer to keep everyone relaxed.

In the background, fellow bakers (in spirit at least) are bemoaning their fate as a pair of ebullient show-hosts hand down a technical challenge for which Mary Berry will accuse a shameless Paul Hollywood of being 'quite' cruel. (For the British values of 'quite.') There's no denying that The Great British Baking Show is a phenomenon, and in enjoying it through couch-surfing binge-watches with her friends and colleagues, Ramona has been inspired. It's piano and violin themes, and the many voices of it's cast, trickle through the house as it plays from the large flat-screen TV Ramona has set up in her living room. The kitchen is mostly open to the living room space, separated by the island at which Ramona is kneading and shaping, allowing the sound to travel.

It's a nice house Ramona has here, all to herself. A two-bedroom that has always required a little maintenance and fixer-uppering that the smith has never begrudged. The windows let in plenty of light, what there is to be had in a Seattle spring. The walls are decorated with bookshelves, cabinets containing statues and curios and old props from her days working on film sets, and some hanging art, some landscapes, some abstract expressionist, usually with vivid colors. All the furniture is of a sturdy make, usually steel-framed, some carved wood. The walls are painted a light blue, and the floors are varnished hard wood.

On a wide, low coffee table before the couch facing the TV are plates and platters piled with some of the productions that are ready to eat, including a dense peasant-bread, a variety of flavored rolls, and a tray of sweet biscuits. They're joined by bowls and tubs and plates of spreads, rich butter, a variety of cheeses, a few jams, and a small variety of salami. It's a lot of food. More than even Ramona is comfortable eating on her own. That's why she's invited people over. This is an 'experiment day' she has decided, she's been trying a variety of recipes one after another, seeing what works and what doesn't. It means she's producing a lot, and rather than have any go to waste, she's enlisted some help making sure all of it gets eaten.

"Sorry I'm late."

A flickering light, similar to shafts of afternoon sun filtered through dense leaves, follows Kyle into the room, as does the faint scent of a campfire. He hadn't even thought to knock on his fellow courtier's front door, since his arms are heavily laden with precious cargo, and he is expected, after all. Besides, she left it unlocked. Making a beeline for the ogre's refrigerator, the beast empties the case of cold beer into it. Well, all except one. After prying it open with his teeth, Kyle take a healthy swig from the bottle and flicks the cap into the rubbish bin.

"Wow. It smells great in here. Thanks for the invite."

He has no idea what's so great about a British baking show, but he's also not one to say no to free food. Sauntering over to Ramona, Kyle stretches his free hand out to the counter and leans in to inspect her handiwork. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling all of the wonderful odors into his sensitive nostrils. Showing an unusual amount of self control in the face of such sensory overload, Kyle manages a wide, toothy smile with a minimal amount of drool. After taking a moment to savor each of the wonderful scents, the beast opens his eyes and looks around the kitchen before giving his host a questioning look.

"What can I do to help?"