she's innocently going about her business when he'd started this little game of his, and despite the retaliation, he's laughing, almost like he's thrilled she's actually fighting back. and perhaps, if that'd been it, she'd have stopped and carried on, maybe done her best to salvage whatever mess she'd ended up with, but — the boy is persistent.
because there's nothing natural about the wind that suddenly breezes through, not in the way that it so conveniently carries a batch of flour over to stain her own face and apron, or how it's heavy enough to actually knock a few items down.
when the seafood stock suddenly tips over, spilling all across the counter, she mutters a serbian swear, her eyes widening from the shock of it. though she manages to upright it to avoid full spillage, enough of it seems to have reached out to soak up beneath her vegetables, pool a mess beneath the bowls, and drip along onto the stove. with the latter, the heat mixes with the liquid enough to burn into a small fire, one that she has to quickly swipe a hand to cast off.
her heart pacing fast and her breath panting slight, she runs her tongue along her lip as she settles in her raised anger. lifting her hands, she curls her fingers for another spell, red light cascading over the spilled liquid from the counter, including whatever remains stocked in the container, before she lifts it all into the air, floating from nothing save for the magic she casts.
with a quick wave of her hands, she sends the floating seafood stock over to the man, drenching him in the liquid. satisfied with that final retaliation, she tugs her apron off, tossing it over the counter before she steps away to leave the staged kitchen with a scowl in his direction. ] Bon appétit.
no subject
she's innocently going about her business when he'd started this little game of his, and despite the retaliation, he's laughing, almost like he's thrilled she's actually fighting back. and perhaps, if that'd been it, she'd have stopped and carried on, maybe done her best to salvage whatever mess she'd ended up with, but — the boy is persistent.
because there's nothing natural about the wind that suddenly breezes through, not in the way that it so conveniently carries a batch of flour over to stain her own face and apron, or how it's heavy enough to actually knock a few items down.
when the seafood stock suddenly tips over, spilling all across the counter, she mutters a serbian swear, her eyes widening from the shock of it. though she manages to upright it to avoid full spillage, enough of it seems to have reached out to soak up beneath her vegetables, pool a mess beneath the bowls, and drip along onto the stove. with the latter, the heat mixes with the liquid enough to burn into a small fire, one that she has to quickly swipe a hand to cast off.
her heart pacing fast and her breath panting slight, she runs her tongue along her lip as she settles in her raised anger. lifting her hands, she curls her fingers for another spell, red light cascading over the spilled liquid from the counter, including whatever remains stocked in the container, before she lifts it all into the air, floating from nothing save for the magic she casts.
with a quick wave of her hands, she sends the floating seafood stock over to the man, drenching him in the liquid. satisfied with that final retaliation, she tugs her apron off, tossing it over the counter before she steps away to leave the staged kitchen with a scowl in his direction. ] Bon appétit.