Fandom High Dormitories

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! ]]

While Astrid was slowly starting to wonder if she should bother keeping the Monday Morning Breakfast tradition up anymore (should she fail, would her dreams suddenly be plagued with visions of plaid and flannel and disapproving brows?), she did, at least this week, have a direction she could take it, and, if anything, it sort of kept her mind off of how she still hadn't heard back from Susan and just how ridiculous this game the woman was trying to play with her actually was. She could, at any moment, probably reach out to Ingrid herself. She could start writing her letter again, but...she'd be a good sport. She'd wait her turn. She was curious to see exactly what move they would make, without her forcing their hand.

And venison had been brought up last time, and so venison was making an appearance this week. Some of it was just cooked up plainly, because Astrid sort of assumed that would be more appealing to Malia's palate, but she'd also looked into a casserole with eggs to put together, too. And pancakes, too, not with the venison but mostly because the casserole took some time to cook and it just felt weird to not have pancakes, at this point.

Either way, there was breakfast, and the likelihood of a lot of leftovers, to the point where Astrid really did wonder what Wayne always did with all that extra food because this was nothing compared to what he'd put out.

[[ open breakfast is open, albeit probably slow because uggghhhh it's only Monday and already I'm saying 'boooooo' to this week XD ]]

A few people had shown up for breakfast last week, so Astrid saw no reason why she shouldn't just keep up the tradition at least a little bit longer, especially since there'd been some interest, at least from Miles, at other people helping out, too. She wondered if she could do something to make it even more communal and take a lot of the work off of one person with a sign-up sheet or something like that, but for now, she was just sort of focusing on getting the food ready and improving her own techniques for making a bigger breakfast for more people than just herself a little easier.

If anything, she appreciated the distraction. Still no call from Susan, no word on when she might get a chance to talk with her mother. She was trying to not get worried about it; she understood that both of them were likely playing cat-and-mouse with her, trying to fool her into thinking she was the mouse when, really, she needed to remember that it was the other way around.

With that in mind, a few of the pancakes were made to sort of resemble cats' faces (a frequently occuring theme, after all, in the oeuvre of Astrid Magnussen), but they were too complicated so she mostly went back to just regular ones.

[[ open breakfast is ooooopeeeennn! though a little slower this week, more'n likeleh ]]