Second Floor Common Room; Tuesday Morning [08/24].

[white_oleander]

This last weekend had been...hard albeit handwavey for Astrid; who could really blame her? Who could just easily bounce back from your dead future clinging to you, sobbing out apologies, and wishing they could take it all back, while you both knew that there were deeper problems that would never be solved, that any attempts to alter their history would only prolong the inevitable?

But there was catharsis there. There was...closure. Confirmation. Regret. Acceptance.

It had still been difficult for Astrid for get herself to move from her bed, the day after Claire left, presumably for good this time. A day of staring across her room, at the colorful mural still up on tge other side.

And then, on Tuesday, she pulled back the sheets. She went to the bathroom. Showered. Went to the common room, turned on the stove, cracked a few eggs, made breakfast.

No, it wasn't Monday. It wasn't even the third floor common room.

But that wasn't really the point, was it?

[[ open common room is open, albeit slow! ]]

Comments

[white_oleander]

Which felt like a fair enough question, really, and Astrid just sort of met it with a faint smile.

"If you had a choice," she speculated, "between...let's say...a chipmunk and a mouse....would you have a preference?"

[desertwolfcub]

Malia actually thought about that for a bit.

"Mouse," she said finally. "Less fur. Slightly."

[white_oleander]

"I guess, then," said Astrid, her grin quirking a little more and just running with it even though it wasn't a perfect fit, but it was good enough. This was why she was the artist, not the poet, "it's kind of like that. For some people, a scrambled egg is more like a mouse with slightly less fur than a sunny-side up one."

[desertwolfcub]

"Huh." Malia nodded.

Why couldn't more people explain things the way Astrid did?

She started with a small sample of the scrambled eggs, chewing thoughtfully, then went for the over easy. Her eyes went wide again when the yolk started to run. "This one bleeds!"

That was clearly a point in its favor.

[white_oleander]

That was a reaction that almost made Astrid wish she was a poet, because what a line that would make. It certainly could be filed away for a potential painting, though, because capturing a bleeding egg on canvas had its appeal as well.

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone describe runny yolks like that before," she admitted, "but I like that."

[desertwolfcub]

"Seems obvious to me," Malia said, shrugging. She dipped her finger in the yolk and stuck it in her mouth. "The yellow's the best part, isn't it."

It was where all the fat lived, after all.

[white_oleander]

"It's where all the nutrients are," Astrid confirmed. "And the flavor, really."

And, considering who she was talking to, she added, "It's the food source for the embryo of the chicken, if it were to actually be fertilized and grow into a chick, so, yeah, it wouldn't be much without it."

[desertwolfcub]

Malia nodded. "You're not very squeamish," she observed. "You'd probably do okay as a coyote."