[ Essek knew that there were traditions that were inherent during this time of the year, and of course he had also researched that thoughtful gifts were generally the norm. He'd wracked his mind for things that he could do for Caleb Widogast, his now Fiancé. The man did not need very much to be happy it would appear; a cat, a warm cup of something, a nice scarf and a book to read.
And friends.
Essek Thelyss had been curiously absent all day. He'd used the excuse that he had some last minute commissions to work on. But he hadn't, not really. He'd been in the kitchen downstairs working on something-- he'd heard Caleb enthuse about the apple tarts at the Stone Dragon however, he'd also lamented that they were not quite like the ones his mother made. And so Essek had rolled up his sleeve and endeavored to do something that was meaningful. Maybe he could try? And thus he spent a solid couple of hours with Pike to learn, except these tarts were for the most part unassisted.
Pike had been there to make sure he had not committed some fatal error.
And so Essek could feel his heart in his throat as he saw what lay on the table. They were not the prettiest tarts at all, they certainly were not the uniform tarts that came out of the Stone Dragon-- these had little points where the cinnamon sugar had caramelized and dripped out the side, the edges were not even and they looked a mess. He had almost chucked them because they did not look like he thought they should look, perfect and precise.
And yet he ascended the steps with them on a tray with a cup of Glühwein, he would offer apologies if needed-- he had backup gifts, something that Caleb probably would find useful. And so, as Essek stepped through the door, he felt himself close to tears-- with gravity, he shut the door behind him and then he cleared his throat.
He looked about as much as a mess as the tarts, his hair rumbled from the heat in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up and specks of flour on his nose and cheeks; he'd not even the presence of mind to clean up before. ] I made you something, for the season.
[ And quickly. ] It's not the only thing and if they are terrible, I understand.
[ INBOX - ACTION ]
And friends.
Essek Thelyss had been curiously absent all day. He'd used the excuse that he had some last minute commissions to work on. But he hadn't, not really. He'd been in the kitchen downstairs working on something-- he'd heard Caleb enthuse about the apple tarts at the Stone Dragon however, he'd also lamented that they were not quite like the ones his mother made. And so Essek had rolled up his sleeve and endeavored to do something that was meaningful. Maybe he could try? And thus he spent a solid couple of hours with Pike to learn, except these tarts were for the most part unassisted.
Pike had been there to make sure he had not committed some fatal error.
And so Essek could feel his heart in his throat as he saw what lay on the table. They were not the prettiest tarts at all, they certainly were not the uniform tarts that came out of the Stone Dragon-- these had little points where the cinnamon sugar had caramelized and dripped out the side, the edges were not even and they looked a mess. He had almost chucked them because they did not look like he thought they should look, perfect and precise.
And yet he ascended the steps with them on a tray with a cup of Glühwein, he would offer apologies if needed-- he had backup gifts, something that Caleb probably would find useful. And so, as Essek stepped through the door, he felt himself close to tears-- with gravity, he shut the door behind him and then he cleared his throat.
He looked about as much as a mess as the tarts, his hair rumbled from the heat in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up and specks of flour on his nose and cheeks; he'd not even the presence of mind to clean up before. ] I made you something, for the season.
[ And quickly. ] It's not the only thing and if they are terrible, I understand.