The Way to a Shifter's Heart

In the heart of Ninraih's jungles, the Fae created the city of Ajteire, protected from the undead by the magic of fireflies and a pact with the Kerasoka. The complex network of trees, vines, and plants helps to keep unwanted visitors out. Read more...
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Colle Mellifera
Event MVP
Pastry chef
Level
03
46 / 46 HP
42 / 42 MP
0p / 0g / 1s / 50c
Race: Fae
Class: Alchemist and Summoner
Posts: 67
Joined: December 28th, 2019, 7:16 am
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The Way to a Shifter's Heart

Post by Colle Mellifera »

The chaos in Colle’s kitchen wasn’t an unusual sight, but the pile of abandoned tea mugs on the table was. Poppy raised her eyebrow at the sight of her best friend feverishly beating - something - in a mixing bowl, their wings fluttering tremulously. “And you’re trying to do what, again?” she asked, leaning against Colle’s kitchen table.

“Make a new pastry.” Colle lifted a whisk, judging the white foam on the end. With a muttered curse they lowered the utensil and began beating again. “You know the old saying. The way to a man’s - or really, anyone’s - heart is through their stomach.” They raised the whisk again, nodded once, and set the bowl on the counter.

“And here I thought it was through the third and fourth ribs,” grumbled Poppy. Colle turned and stared at her, plopping some kind of coarse flour-egg-butter mix into the foamy eggs.

“Poppy!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” She wandered over to the counter, looking over Colle’s shoulder as she held up a hand to keep their wings out of their face. Colle stirred a spoonful of the mix into the softly peaked eggs. “A meringue base? You’re really going all out.”

“Mmm.” Colle eyed the bowl, circled the spoon twice more, and added another spoonful of the mix. “I tried something else earlier. Too dense. It was almost like bread.” They stirred smoothly, studying the bowl.

“Your bread is good though,” Poppy replied. “It’s almost a shame you don’t make it for the cafe.” Colle shook their head before adding more mix.

“Not what I wanted. I was trying-” They paused to check the consistency of the batter before continuing. “Trying to come up with something more light and fluffy. With a honey glaze.”

“And how’s that going?” asked Poppy, skeptically.

Colle sighed. “Last batch was very honey-ish. It needs something.”

Poppy leaned against the counter as she watched her friend work. They could be excessively single-minded when they were trying to make an idea a reality. A bowl pushed to the far end of the counter held apples, lemons, and bananas. “Fruit, maybe?” she suggested.

Colle’s spoon hovered in the air a moment. “That might be it.” They returned to stirring and adding the drier mix to the eggs, an air of slight absentmindedness accompanying their movements.

Poppy leaned toward them. “Are you trying to make a batter?” The bowl held a liquid mixture that flowed off Colle’s spoon easily.

Scowling, Colle turned to look for something. “Damnit. It was supposed to be more of a dough.” They found the flour and added a spoonful, stirring.

“You could put it in a bag or something and shape it that way,” she added. Colle nodded, adding flour and stirring until they were satisfied with the consistency of the batter. “So why are you doing this, now?”

Pulling a piping bag from the back of a cabinet, Colle folded the top over. Holding it in one hand, they scooped the batter into the bag before unfolding the top and twisting to seal the batter in. “Come on, Pops. It’s almost Faryv’s Dawn.”

“And every year I hear you complain about how people show only the most false, artificially sweet sides of themselves on Faryv’s Dawn. What’s this about?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at Colle. They pretended not to notice and began piping the batter onto the greased pan.

Poppy crept over quietly as Colle became absorbed in their work. “Are those - cat paws?”

“Ah - um. Maybe?” Colle offered quietly. They kept piping the ovals and circles on the pan, giving each one room to spread as they baked.

“So what I’m really hearing is that you’re using Faryv’s dawn as an excuse - to try to snag that shifter guy that keeps coming in. The one who turns into a cat.” Poppy crossed her arms and smirked triumphantly at Colle.

Colle shrugged, almost nonchalantly, as they put the pan into the oven. “That might be possible,” they said, their eyes on the baking shapes.

‘That might be possible’ they say. More like ‘that’s exactly right, I’m so stupid to try to hide the truth from my best friend Poppy’, yes?” Poppy leaned into Colle’s shoulder. Colle rolled their eyes and poked her in the side with a finger. She yelped and jumped away.

“You mean my very ticklish best friend Poppy who’s going to keep her mouth shut about all this at work, right?” Colle said, tearing their eyes away from the baking. “Seriously, Poppy. I just hope he likes them.”

“That’s not all you’re hoping, Colle. I know you. You don’t usually bake for just anyone, and you certainly don’t create entirely new recipes just to chase tail. What’s with this one?” Poppy studied Colle’s face.

They sighed. “I’m not really sure - there’s just something about him. I mean, yes, he’s tall and good looking and dear idols, that ass - but he’s different. He’s not the same as the other people who come to read a book and indulge in pastry and tea.”

Biting their lip, they checked the pastry in the oven. “There’s something more to it. Maybe he’s a mage or a sorcerer in hiding? I know he’s friendly with the Rangers.” Colle grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out a tray of barely golden cat-paw shaped pastries. “Glaze, glaze-”

They poured honey, vanilla, and melted butter into a bowl. Grabbing an apple, they peeled it and grated it into the bowl, choosing a fine grate for a smoother finish. Stirring until everything was blended, they set a pastry on a plate. “Moment of truth, Poppy.” Scooping a generous amount of the glaze onto the pastry, they held it out to her.

She broke it in half and took a bite. “Oh - Idols, Colle. If he ever finds out you made these just for him and he doesn’t take you out right then - I’m banning him from the cafe and asking my cousins to beat him.” She licked the glaze from her fingers as Colle took a careful bite of the other half.

“Damn, I’m good,” they said in a mock-boastful voice. They looked at Poppy hopefully. “Do you think he’ll like them?”

“Do I - Yes. I think everyone’s going to like them, so I hope you don’t mind making them from now on.” She ran her finger over the plate, scooping up more glaze and popping her finger in her mouth.



The next morning, Poppy came into work to find Colle slinging pans of pastry into the oven with practiced speed. “You haven’t made your new thing yet?”

“The cat’s paws? No, I was going to wait a little so they’d still be warm and fresh-” Colle said, pulling a pan out of the oven and replacing it with another. “What if he doesn’t like them?”

“Then I kick his ass off the balcony onto the marketplace below and hope he bounces off,” replied Poppy. Colle raised an eyebrow. “Okay, well, I’d want to do that if he said he didn’t like them.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, if nothing else. I’ve got most of the usual ready to go. One more pan before muffins.” Colle racked the still warm pan.

Poppy wrinkled her nose. “Are you doing those nasty bran muffins again?”

“I have to. They move too well.” Colle gave her a look of comradely resignation. “I’ll start the cat’s paws right after.”

Poppy frowned and went to the counter to start putting the day’s offerings on platters for the case up front. She’d just finished everything - even the bran muffins - when a large black cat strolled in from outside. “Oh, good morning, Harroc.”

Harroc chuffed loudly, his ears flicking to the Fae before he yawned and allowed a shiver to run through his entire feline body. His tail swayed idly behind him and he rose to his full height to move towards the counter. A few tentative sniffs were had as he eyed several items before chuffing again.

“Oh - hold on, we’ve got something new I think you’ll like.” Poppy disappeared into the kitchen. Colle hauled a pan out of the oven. “He’s here,” she announced, quietly. Colle jerked their head up, staring. “Plate one and-”

“No, I’ll take it out,” they said, firmly. They slid one off the pan onto a plate, spooned a copious amount of honey glaze on top of the pastry, and carried it out to the counter. Harroc had shifted back, now standing there in his usual worn but clean leathers and tight-fitting clothes.

“Would you like your usual table, Harroc? I have a new pastry I’d like you to try,” Colle said, trying not to babble or blush as they addressed the leather-clad shifter. “On the house.”

Harroc beamed, looking intently at the item Colle carried. "If it is not taken, I enjoy how the sun strikes it. Good for books and it reminds me not to let the tea cool," he answered with a decisive nod, his focus unwavering like the jaguar he had been moments ago.

“Oh - sure,” Colle said, leading the way to the table. “Which tea would you like?” They set the plate in front of Harroc’s usual seat in the sun.

"The one from the other day. Mint, and another mint, with a strong flavor of life," Harroc decided after a moment of silent contemplation, his eyes finally moving from the pastry to give serious thought to its accompaniment.

Colle stared at him for a minute. “Oh - the - spearmint and peppermint green tea. Sure. Mint tea. Be right back,” they said, stammering at the end. Forcing themself not to run, they hid in the kitchen while they brewed the tea - one of their own favorites.

“Right. Gonna go out there, give him the tea, and ask what he thinks. I can do this,” they mumbled to themself as they picked up a cup and the teapot. Approaching the table from behind Harroc, Colle set the teapot and cup down smoothly beside the shifter. “How do you like the pastry?” they asked, holding their breath at the end.

Harroc turned to look at Colle, honey glaze absolutely covering his face and fingers as he tried to cover his mouth. "-ish bery gud," he said through a remaining bite of food before looking at the tea cup and then his fingers. Without hesitation, he placed them in his mouth, cleaning them noisily.

Colle covered an undignified squeak with their hand and nodded. “Good - I’m - Good - Glad you like it,” they blurted. They backed away a few steps before striding for the kitchen.

Poppy leaned on the prep table, holding her stomach and gasping for air as she laughed. “Success?” she choked out. Colle nodded as their cheeks flushed crimson.

“Well - at least he likes it?” they said with a shrug and a shy smile.



Actual recipe here (imperial measurements, sorry, will try to measure for g/mL/Celcius next time)
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