HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Sometimes you just gotta get one out there to get the gears turning

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

i know what you mean

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

Jonas Highwind

@Krayzikk@Plank Sinatra@Write@Caasicam

A hit.

Spirits lifted.

Brawny arms folded atop his chest, Jonas looked on as he was awash with spoken and unspoken praise for his effort, unable to completely hide a smirk of self-satisfaction. To bring all those he cared for together like this and enjoy something— there was nothing better he could have done. He had begun cooking at an early age; his mother often worked until it was nearly time for him to sleep, and his was a hungry mouth to feed. What he had simply picked up to survive, he now used to enrich the lives of others, even in the face of their little world turning against them.

It felt like the journey had lead him to something beautiful.

"Well, I've been practicing." he replied noncommittally to Rebekah, throwing in a casual shrug of the shoulders— a bit off-base from his previous bombast, but there wasn't any sense in outright preening. It wasn't as if he did this to fish for compliments. No truly good cook did. Honesty was what made or broke your dish. It was an expression of wanting to make people smile, and to see that wish fulfilled was an honor in a class of its own.

Well, mostly.

He turned to his sister next, and found himself laughing even in spite of the fact that her chipper tone hadn't fully reached the rest of her face. Sometimes, she played the stoic just as he did. Maybe it was something they'd gotten from their father, so earnestly working to master his infamously explosive emotions.

"「It's my pleasure, Dana-chan.」" His grasp on her mother tongue was... passable, at least for now. The cramming session on the drive was still fresh in his mind, so hopefully more usage would simply lead to more comprehensive crystallized vocabulary. He would be certain to make the effort to meet her on her terms. Luckily, she wasn't trying to give him a hard time understanding her. "「Though, honestly, I thought he was kidding about that. Don't worry. I'll make whatever you want.」"

Dangerous promise, Highwind.

It was amazing how their simple jests made it so much easier to brush aside all that was wrong with what happened that morning. Even when conveying that he shared much of their sentiment, it was done all the more casually.

"I'd be lying if I said I was happy with how it turned out, Bekah. To tell the truth, I'm wholly dissatisfied—"

A knock upon the door— Liam was here. Despite it being open for convenience's sake, the guy still felt the need to politely announce himself before waltzing in. He appreciated the thought, even though he'd also spent the past year trying to get the Son of Zeus to drop some of the formalities.

They were friends. He didn't need to address Jonas as anything more. Even if that was just how Liam was (and it seemed the case), he hoped that one of his most upbeat training partners was aware of that.

"Don't go hurting yourself on my account, man." Rushing through weights was an excellent way to forget your form and go on a one-way trip to Snap City. "And dig in. Good to see you."

He got the distinct feeling he'd need to have another batch in the works soon.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

@PaulHaynek@VitaVitaAR

He chuckled in kind with Sir Jarde, before giving a small nod to the blonde jokester knight.

"I'll see to it, then."

He was fairly certain he'd noticed at least one or two tied up near a fence, but if push came to shove— his own was well-behaved enough to manage a different weight on his back without trouble. Walking alongside the caravan wasn't something Gerard would mind overmuch— a long march in armor was, in a way, good for the soul. Nice and humbling. Good time for introspection.

Though he would certainly miss the wind through his coal-colored hair. So sticky...

He returned his gaze to Captain Fanilly, meeting her eyes for a moment before he spoke. They seemed... searching. As though attempting to puzzle out an answer that continued to elude her.

So that was what it looked like from the outside, then?

Probably not. Her responsibilities were a wholly different beast from his idly daydreaming.

"As for our flank, we largely fell upon them like wolves, Knight-Captain." he began his report with an affirming nod, in spite of his mouth having settled into a much more stoic line than moments prior. "No real unexpected resistance, and nothing I believed any one of our number couldn't handle. I'll have to verify it wholly now that the battle is done, but before I..."

It fell further, into a bit of a frown. He'd lost sight of his position quickly. Worth acknowledging, but he didn't need to put distrust of her own choices in the girl's head. Not now,in the direct aftermath. Emotions ran high, everyone questioned whether their decisions could have been made better... it would be ill-advised to press the issue before she had a chance to really process everything. He had seen companies of fighting men fall apart many times when their leaders hadn't the necessary faith in their judgement.

The Iron Roses would not be one such.

"...rushed to be the tip of the spear, as it were— we suffered no casualties to our number. None that I could see. If that's all you need from me right now, ma'am..." he started forward, stepping one leg up onto the ashen log before looking back towards her. "I'll get a certain number back to you as soon as I can. Additionally, we did find one of their prisoners— I'll check on her as well."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Alright, time to get to work.

Our Daily Lives have Become a Battlefield: A Battle School RP

@Rabidporcupine

Man just posted but man forgot tag like a nonce

Our Daily Lives have Become a Battlefield: A Battle School RP

@King Cosmos@Rabidporcupine

"I see. The hero propping up your whole club and keeping it alive, then." The Thai held his chin between his thumb and index finger as he soaked in Ichiro's words. "So that's why you're so driven to recruit the strong. That's a heavy burden on the shoulders of one man, isn't it?" Even the tightest-knit teams in Muay Thai were much more individualistic at their core— for all the help fighters could give eachother in sparring and coaching, at the end of the day responsibility for victory was reserved for one's self. Nobody else could step into the ring for you. Though he didn't know or really need to know the finer intricacies of the game of Baseball, he did understand how different that must have seemed to someone who had his whole team to fight for, simply to prove it worthy of surviving.

"I did, yes. I'm going to use this place as a stepping stone on my way to being the best Nak Muay to ever live. That student council president of yours is going to be a scalp to collect, same as the top rankers of Lumpinee will be after her." His eyes betrayed no falsehood— as far as Kasemchai was concerned, there wasn't a single doubt to be had about his path towards destiny.

It was then that the shouting came sailing into the the air of the courtyard, addressed to the students at large.

Kasemchai's face quirked into an honestly confused frown, one he shared with Ichiro in an undertone as the large and fierce-looking man awaited his answer from the crowd.

"Yamamoto Chie?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gonna give Paul a chance to respond first

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

Jonas Highwind

@Krayzikk@Plank Sinatra@Write

"Well, you're smelling the bacon more than the eggs, probably." he corrected mildly, a light smirk gracing his strong features. "I'd be worried if it was the other way around, to be honest with you. If you wanna help, these are nearly done— grab me a plate and paper towel like I had for those."

He indicated the strips, now resting atop their muffins on a single large plate, with the slotted spoon he wielded. As his faithful disciple did so, dutifully and quickly, he too the time to skim off the excess ribbons of egg white that hadn't coaleasced around their requisite yolks, tossing them into the sink. Any second now, the poached eggs would float to the top— there it was. That meant done.

He killed the heat, and as he transferred each shining orb of milky white onto the plate, he considered what she said.

"It's..." he frowned, choosing his next words deliberately. "It's like that a lot. I don't know how many fights you've gotten into in school, but this isn't any different from those."

A pinch of salt fell like snow upon each egg, seasoning them just enough to wake up the flavor innate to the egg white— he didn't need much when there was a bevy of sodium from the bacon it would rest upon in the first place. The interplay between each ingredient was what made dishes like these a skill to truly master as opposed to simple sets of directions to follow. Ideally, each element would service the others in some way to create a complete flavor profile, and part of that was minding not to overdo a certain aspect. In cooking, erring on the side of caution was smart, especially with something like salt— simply put, you could underseason and add salt as necessary, but if you had too much salt once everything was put together, you weren't getting it out easily.

"There's no nuance in these things— The people running the show don't want to do the legwork of determining the right and wrong of it. 'It doesn't matter who started, since you were both in the fight you both get suspended'. It's stuff like that."

Gingerly, he lifted the first poached egg off of the plate and onto the bread-and-pork base with a spoon. Golden-brown toasting on the baked base, followed by a cross of each halved strip of crimson bacon, savory and salty and smoky as you liked, and then centered upon that the pristine and perfectly round, white eggs, topped all with that pale yellow Hollandaise, rich and luxuriously smooth with the perfect hint of brightness to avoid being overbearing...

Oh, hell yeah. Dusting of Paprika on that and I'm golden.

He was much more satisfied with how his plating was shaping up than his school year— if you ate with your eyes, only one of those would prove a feast.

"As cynical as it is to say, I'm used to it after a fashion... But it doesn't mean either of us— doesn't mean any of us have to like it. I don't think I ever will. Not when I know I wasn't wrong."

He turned to the diminutive daughter of the seas, favoring her with a smile that, while warm as usual, didn't manage to kick every other emotion he held out of his eyes. Discontent, disquiet, disgust, disdain, disillusion— a swirl of it managed to leak through his normal stony exterior. For such serious matters, he liked to stay cold, calculated, to not give anything away. It was the most he'd let slip since they'd returned from their homes. Maybe since they'd met.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Rhea. It wasn't your shouting match to get into in the first place."

He continued his sequence with the other eggs, placing them upon their awaiting bases exactly as he had the first.

"I'd be a dogshit teacher if I expected you to fight my battles for me, y'know?"

Just like I would be if I made you follow me out.

From the hall, he heard the door across his opening and a pair of footsteps making the extremely short jaunt into the kitchen, and with a single, exorcising breath, shook off his many misgivings for now. Time to play host, the gracious and masterful chef par excellence whose only mood was to serve up something to take the edge off of them all.

"Yo," he said in greeting, meeting Rebekah's earnest smile with a grin that edged on cocksure. "No coffee, didn't bring a machine and if Dal did, he didn't unpack it. Sorry. But forget that, what I've got here,"

He took the bowl of Hollandaise and dunked his spoon within the velvety yellow suspension, shaking free any sauce that hung too precariously to safely make the transition, and laid it atop his first poached egg in a single, smooth deposition, blanketing the stack of breakfast staples beneath.

"is Eggs Benedict. We kicked all kinds of ass last night— I say we treat ourselves. To hell with keeping quiet, it's worth celebrating. So, I'm gonna throw my weight around as a chef a little and go all-out."

The same motion, smooth and precise and positively mouthwatering, draped similar coats of Hollandaise onto the remaining towers of savory excess. Producing a shaker full of crimson powder from wherever he had placed it off camera, he tapped it in steady rhythm as flecks of smoky Paprika graced the yellowed surfaces below.

"Kansei."

Finished.

His sister was here, he may as well put on a show in her language as well as his own. Lifting the platter, he set it down at the center of the table that was previously spartan and untouched, and stepped back to face the trio of demigoddesses with a full courtly bow.

He couldn't deny that theatrics were fun, every now and again.

Ham was good for a meal, after all.

"Enjoy. You've earned it."

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

Jonas Highwind

@Krayzikk@Plank Sinatra@Write

So much grease in that pan.

Six strips of bacon rendered a substantial portion of fat, as it turned out— nothing unexpected, of course, he'd been cooking since he was a kid— but nonetheless, he forced himself to make a note to switch around a meal or two for the rest of the day or axe them completely. No matter what angle he attempted to combat it from, be it as a humble weightlifter "cultivating mass" or being a heavyweight, "like anyone above 5'4 should, no excuses", two words still existed at the back of his mind, a brand placed upon him by his most honest and critical of sisters.

Mo-chi tum-my~

...

Well, if he didn't make a habit of this, he wouldn't lose core definition from one luxurious meal alone. Summer had been relatively lazy for him, but to most normal people it was the difference between a sea and an ocean. You knew one was smaller, but you couldn't wrap your head around it in a meaningful way when you saw it. Break down the numbers and some of the barbecues from work were calorically worse anyway.

He'd be fine. And to speak of the ocean—

A trio of confident knocks came upon his door, heralding the familiar voice of his de facto protege. "Yo coach, you in there?"

Well, she was certainly in for a treat.

"Yeah, c'mon in! Almost done here!"

bzzt. bzzt.

A pause as both checked their phones. That door was gonna get knocked on again in five anyway, so...

"Y'know what, just leave it open."

May as well save the trouble.

He greeted her with a smirk as she let herself in, turning his attention to the pan for a moment as he flipped the English muffins wonce the first side had nicely browned. No reason not to toast them in the grease— they needed to be crispy to hold steady against the weight of eggs and hollandaise sauce, and it also allowed them to soak up all the smoky and salty flavor that would have likely otherwise gone to waste. One of the easiest ways to both make something taste awesome and get rid of grease, which was annoying as hell unless you liked pouring it down your drain and clogging your pipes.

"Figured I'd switch things up. Go the decadent route. Hope you're hungry, kid."

Muffins were done. He took the pan off the flame and shifted the pot of water over it, deftly plucking the bowl of sauce from the top and setting it onto the countertop. No need to heat that any more, this was the final stage. A healthy pinch of salt was tossed in, followed by a splash of the vinegar he'd used in the sauce— the acidity actually helped the egg whites set when you poached them.

While that was coming up to the boil, he regarded Rhea as he began to set up the final assembly, snapping strips of bacon in two and placing them atop the toasted slices. She'd been present alongside them as they'd gotten chewed out by the brass— but reserved as she was, compared to the likes of Dallas, it was a bit harder for him to gauge where her head was at.

After a time, the burly would-be chef spoke.

"...Helluva start to the year, huh?"

He'd been guiding her for what felt like ages now— and she'd come a long way in finding her confidence. But since even he had his doubts about whether this place was really right for them... Well, projecting his own thoughts and misgivings onto her would be stupid.

That said, she definitely deserved less of a tongue-lashing than he or, say, Bekah did. She'd dutifully kept to her post as rear guard, keeping noncombatants safe from overt danger. Even if you wanted to make a case about directly attacking 'Shadow', she wasn't at all culpable. Holding the backline firm had to be the least "offensive" position anyone could have mustered there, but as usual these things were not treated with nuance in the slightest.

It wasn't fair to him, but it was even less so to Rhea. He doubted that she wasn't feeling at all slighted by this either. May as well get her perspective on it and let her vent.

The water had reached a rolling boil, so he killed the heat down to a simmer— too much chaos in the pot would cause the eggs to explode. Learned that one the hard way. Whisking it up into a whirlpool, he cracked a trio of eggs into it, the turbulence wrapping the whites around the yolks perfectly as they quickly began to set.

All the while, the wonderful smells of the kitchen began to waft towards the door.