mingle | we have bread and fishes and a jug of.... well, herbal tea.

[lastofthekellys]

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 15th August | Noon
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: All sections are completely free for all! You can handwave your character helping out or thread it out, or just jump in to them eating. All characters are ICly invited, as they are every day. In light of the illness plot, feel free to use this post as an excuse for your characters to catch ill or spread the plague around.
STATUS: Open and ongoing!

---

Rain, hail, shine; blizzard, earthquake or lightning storm, the meals at the Inn have continued. People can, and do, wander in at breakfast and supper - as long as the stores are enough for three meals, anyway - but the main meal remains the one at midday. It's this meal which is the main event that Kate structures her day around, making sure volunteers arrive to help prepare, serve, and then clean; double-checking that there is enough food for all, that stores aren't too low and that fresh greens have been gathered. With the village chickens now producing eggs regularly there's a welcome addition of protein to the foodstuffs, and by now there are a number of experienced cooks in the village. At least, experienced in the ways of cooking communally and with what's on hand.

The main room of the Inn is swept, dusted; cutlery and bowls, plates are laid out on the sideboards in piles to be collected as people need. Everything is as it should be, even if some people - Kate included - are feeling a bit under the weather. But that's to be expected, isn't it? Everyone gets run down, has a day or two of feeling off colour. Certainly, it's nothing to worry about.

So come on in, help at the kitchen or pull up a chair at a table and enjoy some warm food and company while the outside confusion stays firmly outside.

Comments

Gathering, Preparing and Cooking

[lastofthekellys]

It takes time to make food. For the sake of today's pottage, the smoked fish has to be deboned and broken into large pieces. The root vegetables and greens need to be chopped up, steamed, boiled (and boiled a couple times in the cases of some bits), occasionally mashed to thicken the liquid before being added to the stew

There are also the fritters to be made, finally chopped and mashed roots and herbs mixed with eggs and fried up as a side-dish. As the bakers have vanished, the bread is back to the unleavened bush bread Kate makes, but this too is on the menu.

Fortunately, the kitchen in the inn is large, airy and very well-appointed.

Unfortunately, things can get a bit messy cooking...

[chirrutsluck]

They also can get messy when somebody brings in a catch from some snares out in the wood. Baze is still living at the inn, so he does what he can to provide for himself and the other people who stay and work there. He comes in late in the morning with a rabbit and a squirrel, already skinned and dressed, ready to add to a pot or a spit, should someone rather grill it than stew it.

One of these days he'll learn to shoot an actual bow. One of these days he'll actually get a bow to practice with. Until then, he makes snares.

"For lunch," he tells Kate, or whoever else is working in the kitchen at the time. "Or dinner, whichever you want." He doesn't plan. He just provides, and does what simple cooking work he can where he's directed.

[frankensteinian]

He spends less time in the inn now that he's moved into a house, but he's still here for a good portion of the day. Usually when he's in the kitchen, it's to clean the dishes or the kitchen itself, but today he's found himself at the inn earlier than usual, without any of his usual tasks to do.

The smells and sounds of cooking are coming from the kitchen, so even if he's too early for cleaning, he can maybe help in some other way. It's been awhile since he's done any cooking, but it's not like it's changed in any way. Cooking is still cooking.

"Is there anything I can do?"

OTA

[comfortablyerect]

It's a little more difficult for Tim to contribute than he feels it should be. Survival is what he's good at — trapped here in their little village, expected to rough it and live without modern advances, he should be thriving. He was a Boy Scout, he was in the Army, he's a Ranger. Surviving is what he's good at. But he's much better at surviving when he has some sort of firearm in his hands, and, well....

He never learned how to use a bow. His father tried to teach him, but he never picked it up as well as he would've liked. He much preferred the feeling of a rifle nestled against his shoulder, the jerking recoil when he pulled the trigger.

He can still fish, though, and seeing as he gets out of bed almost before the sun rises every single morning like clockwork, he has plenty of time to fish and gather before the daily meal. He enters the inn through the back door, directly into the kitchen, with a line of caught fish in one hand and a basket of gathered wild berries in the other. It's always a little busy in here, a little hectic, and he generally prefers to hand his contributions over and make his exit.

This time, he sets the basket of berries down on the counter and asks, "What can I do to help?"

[theintercessor]

Jude looks up through his bangs, assessing the owner of the voice. He's still getting used to being addressed by the village at large, especially in a crowd. That anyone might want his input over someone else's comes as a surprise, when he still feels so much like a stranger.

"Uh," he starts, casting around for an idea of what needs doing. He hadn't come to the inn for more than a wash, his tub still in pieces at the back of his house, awaiting some new purpose.

Kind of like him, most days. "We could clean up those fish, I guess," he offers, remembering the few times he'd camped out with Charlie as a kid, before he just started driving out on his own. If this guy's catching them, he can probably keep Jude from cutting his thumb off as he remembers the ropes. "Unless you're taking those home."

Moana ~ OPEN

[chosenbytheocean]

While everyone was flitting about the kitchen, Moana stood near one of the end counters with a stack of fish. A thin blade reposed in her palm as she inspected the fish in front of her. They could use the heads but she had to cut it off in order to get to the bones that ran along the fish’s spine. The knife rocked in her hand and a soft crack indicated that she had cut off the head. Moana then ran the knife along the backbone of the fish, then the finishes stomach. After tossing the left over parts into a bucket to use later, Moana began to pull the pin bones from the fillets.

With one fish deboned and prepped she pulled at another and then another. Fish was something that Mona knew and the smell didn't bother her.

As she worked, Itiiti laid near her feet but far enough away that it counted as 'outside the kitchen.' His nose was nudging the bucket that Moana was using for scraps, as if to try to get to the bone and fish heads inside. Using the bottom of her foot, Moana nudged Itiiti's face away. "Stop it."

[chirrutsluck]

Baze isn't sure that counts as "outside the kitchen". He eyes the pig while he chops vegetables. "You could keep him outside," he suggests after a moment of watching her keep him away from her scraps. "It isn't too hot for him." It's not like it wouldn't be hotter inside, anyway, with it being a kitchen and enclosed and all that.

Lunch is served

[lastofthekellys]

The main point of all this: the food is now ready and it is time to eat.

Today, the menu is smoked fish pottage (waiting in a giant pot, which is refilled as needed), refilled as needed), root vegetable fritters, and bush bread. To drink, There are some kettles of herbal teas and chicory root instead of coffee, as well as water.

Form a line, grab a bowl and cutlery, serve yourself and then go and find a seat in the main room. But be careful, those inclined to brood, for there are only so many quiet dark corners...

[chirrutsluck]

Baze eyes the meal set out. He helped prepare it, and he knows it's good, but he's not really feeling much like eating-- which is unusual for him. He usually loves food, taking it was one of the few real pleasures in life that he normally feels like partaking in. The food here, too, is usually very good, for all it's simple fare and could probably use some more spice, and he usually eats about as much as his size would suggest he eats. And yet, today, he's not really hungry.

Still, he needs to eat, so he heaves a heavy sort of sigh and starts collecting bits and pieces of things. Is it hot in here? It's definitely hot in here, so when he has a plate about half full of various things, he takes it to the porch to sit on the steps with it.

It's hot out here, too, it seems like, and he looks grouchy about it as he picks at his food. Come bother him and get grouched at?

((warning: Baze is getting sick :3 he can transfer to people if wished))

[ethnobotany]

The doctor in her will never go away. Beverly might not be a Chief Medical Officer here and she's certainly not head of the hospital in any capacity, but she's still a doctor. She will always care about the well-being of everyone around her. That's just who she is.

So when she settles down close by someone who clearly isn't keen on his food, she tilts her head and smiles as warmly as she can. "Something wrong with it?" she asks amiably, hoping that maybe the food isn't to his liking rather than anything else going on around here.

[seekingcrocodile]

He has always made a point of stopping by the inn for lunch, since it's the main meal of the day and is therefore the best way to come across his fellow villagers. He'd avoided the place during the busy time of day for awhile after Emma's disappearance, but today he's feeling up to returning for lunch. After he drops off some of the day's catch in the kitchen of the inn, for use in a future meal, and takes the rest of it back to his house for his own use, he returns to the main room of the inn.

Once there, he grabs a bowl of food and finds somewhere to sit, close enough to the door to get some fresh air. It takes him more than one trip to get it all, since he only has one hand for carrying things, but he manages. He sits on the side of the table opposite the door, so that he can see anyone who enters, almost as though he's waiting for someone to come walking through it. Which he isn't, really. He's used to Emma being gone by now, and he can't let himself imagine her walking in at any second. Still, if he hasn't got hope, what has he got?

That and his flask, which he slips out of his pocket to take an occasional sip from.

[forthecrown]

Elizabeth had seen her fair share of men injured in the war and she'd always felt a particular tug toward them; what a terrible thing, to be maimed in defense of one's country. Kind words from her would do little, of course, but she still felt the need to give them all the same whenever she saw someone with that particular sort of injury.

This man was someone she recognized from her months in the village and she remembered, albeit vaguely, that he used to have a companion. What a terrible thing to have someone here that you were close to and then to lose them.

Elizabeth followed him with her own food, sitting nearby, and nodded toward the flask. "Is there anything stronger than a bit of tea in that? I could do with something."

Clary - OTA

[babyhunter]

This was one thing that Clary was eternally grateful for. Meal times. She wasn't the worlds worst cook a.k.a. she wasn't Isabelle but she didn't know how to use what little they had. Survival wasn't something you had to worry about in the middle of New York City. Well, you did but it was a very different kind of survival.

She went through the line eagerly. If she had ever been picky with food that had gone away with the first day of hunger pains. Clary filled her bowl with soup, tossed some of the fritters and bread on top and then went to find a seat. She'd be up in a bit for water but since she was eating soup she didn't know how thirsty she was going to be.

Her seat was in the middle of a random table. Like a caffateria lunch room, she assumed it was a free-for-all. She did save the seat next to her for Isabelle if she happened to show up too.

Clary picked up the first spoonful and stared at it. "I'm going to pretend that you are pizza." She told the spoon firmly and then took her first bite. It was delicious, even if it wasn't pizza.

[pretendtoneedme]

"Pizza's something you're never gonna see here, unless you get incredibly lucky." The words are given with a small smirk from Clint from a couple chairs down the table on the opposite side, close enough to hear and talk but not close enough to be intrusive. He'd turned up relatively last-minute to help with any kitchen prep, but that was usually the case given the number of things he was working on or otherwise keeping occupied with, and he'd gone through the line as normal and claimed a seat, intending to be back at it quickly. But the general lunch call is a good spot to gauge the feel of the village on any given day, so it's a time when he pays attention to everything going on as well. And obviously he's paid enough attention to hear that offhand remark.

"It's pretty good, you know. Not pizza, but good. Miss Kate knows what she's doing." Clint's taste buds are... well, not dead, but inured to basically everything short of eating dog and cat. He's been to far too many places in far too many situations to still be a picky eater, not that he was ever one to begin with... but he does agree that pizza would be nice to have sometimes, and he sighs a little as he looks at the soup. "I'm gonna pretend it's pizza, too."

[fightsinheels]

Isabelle's gotten used to pulling herself out of bed right around the time the midday meal is served. She used to sleep through it, her nocturnal habits hard to break. But she's been adjusting to the type of schedule the village seems to run on, and she figures it won't be long until she's waking up bright and early like everyone else does.

She's not really looking forward to it.

Bounding down the stairs, she spots Clary and her fiery hair almost immediately. Isabelle still hasn't told her about her mom and about everything that's happened. It sends a little pang of guilt every time she sees Clary, but she's hoping she can put it off indefinitely. There's no need to make Clary upset and worried before it actually happens, as far as Isabelle's concerned. It's done.

"I wish that worked," Isabelle sighs, dropping herself in the spot Clary saved for her. She has her own plate of food, a bowl of soup and plenty of bread and fritters, hoping to get some carbs in. It's hard to stay active when they're not getting their daily calorie intake.

OTA

[womanofvalue]

No matter what Peggy learns or manages to add to her skills when it comes to this place, she will always be grateful for someone else's cooking. She's sure that she could sit down and learn, but it feels oddly like it would be giving in and losing a part of herself to do something she'd fought against for so long. Not only that, but there's a stubborn part of her worried that perhaps she simply would never be good at cooking and Peggy hates being less than perfect at anything.

She pours herself an herbal tea to go along with the meal, reaching for some of the fritters and bread, eyeing the room around her rather suspiciously. There seem to be fewer people than she recalls seeing and the ones who are here look somewhat less than in mint condition. Her sense of alarm raises and Peggy wonders if she's simply not been paying attention.

What new madness is afoot?

Settling her plate down at a table opposite someone, she meets them dead in the eye (a key that ought to warn that she's not willing to leave here without an answer). "Is something going on?" she asks, her inquisitive nature sharp as ever.

[warriorborn]

Benedict, looking tired but otherwise in perfect health, simply raises his eyebrows when Miss Carter plops herself down in front of him and launches into conversation.

"Good afternoon to you too, Miss Carter," he replies, a small smile curling across his face as he sets his spoon down so he can give her his undivided attention.

The truth of the matter is that he doesn't know what's wrong. He's noticed that some people are appearing to fall ill — it would be impossible for him not to notice, since Kate is one of those people and he sleeps next to her every night — but he hasn't really been able to determine any specific cause, and even if he had, he probably wouldn't be much use regardless. Benedict has no experience being sick, and although his human sisters have had the occasional cold or bout of flu, he'd never really been involved in their recovery, so he doesn't know what to do. Attempting to shoulder more and more of Kate's burdens so she can rest is the full scope of his ideas so far.

"As to your question..." He opens his mouth to continue but doesn't say anything, pausing for a moment before closing it and sighing, lifting a hand to run through his hair. "I'm not sure. It seems that perhaps there is a mild flu going around, but I am no healer. I cannot be certain."

Latest but OTA!!

[not_a_slave]

Ever since he escaped from Danarius, Fenris has taken a certain stubborn pride in refusing to be forced to do anything he didn't want to do. He may, in name, have acted similarly to a bodyguard for Hawke, but it was by his choice, and Hawke never asked him to do the things Danarius had. He hadn't always agreed with her, but he'd never felt ashamed to stand beside her, when he'd always felt it in Danarius' wake.

He's avoided, entirely, any more serving than simply pouring a glass of wine for a friend; it's beneath him, now, when he doesn't have to pander to Danarius for the sake of showing off to his magisterial colleagues. There's no showing off the captive power of a warrior elf enslaved and used for the mundane task of pouring wine, not now. But ... it's busier here than normal today, and it's not exactly serving if Fenris allows himself to pick up some of the heavier items and carry them out to where the food is being set up in a buffet.

"I need to put this there", he says, indicating that a plate that's wound up where the freshly refilled pot goes really needs to move.

"Thank you," he offers, grudgingly, as he places the pot back in its spot and turns around, looking for somewhere to stand.

[wittyskepticism]

Hawke has been keeping a close eye on Fenris since they both turned up here. Not because she wants to control any part of his life, but because he deserves at least one friend in any world who is a real friend and doesn't just want to use him. She can't even say he deserves one friend who won't hurt him; even though he does, she no longer qualifies as that. Still, she's doing what she can to make his life here a good one and that's all she can do.

"Making yourself useful, are you?" she teases as she approaches once he's finished helping set up.

Clean-up

[lastofthekellys]

All good things must, sadly, come to an end, and now it's time to clean. If the addition of fritters to the daily main meal is welcome, it also means that there is more cleaning to be done. Left-over food is to be stored at the inn for supper or for tomorrow, and the various pots, pans and utensils all need to be cleaned.

Isn't it a good thing people have worked out how to make soap by now?

OTA

[ottimismo]

Anybody who's used to seeing Sonny out and about everyday might have noticed that he's been scarce, as of late. Instead of approaching anyone and everyone, reaching out and making friends, helping wherever he's needed, he's taken to spending more time indoors, away from other people. He's tired would be a simple way of putting it, but the truth is, it's more than that. He's worn out. He doesn't have it in him to project the sunshiney personality he's known for. Cheering people up and encouraging them, remaining as optimistic as he's been, is becoming more and more difficult.

He wants to go home, but he's starting to resign himself to the fact that they're going to be here forever, at the will of whoever is observing them.

Despite that, he's dragged himself out of his house for the midday meal each and everyday. Mostly because he has to eat, but also to make pleasantries and touch base with a few people, just so they don't get worried and show up at his house to drag him out of bed. He almost always sticks around to help afterwards, too, and this time is no different. After the meal has been had, he can be found back in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes in the sink. Anybody who loiters around him long enough will be offered a rag.

"I wash, you dry?"

[bit_fairytale]

She's only here because it's been probably too many meals for Amy to skip to be healthy. Lingering after had been her first mistake, because that's how people get suckered into doing extra chores to actually pay off the food that they'd been eating. Grumbling, she gives Sonny an accusatory glare when his comment stops her from making a quick escape. The stinkeye well given, she reaches out and yanks a rag from him, wondering if she can whip it into something and give him a smack.

She tries, but it's sort of ineffective, just sort of flopping against his forearm. "Are you always this bad at making sure people actually pitch in around here?" Without Rory to guilt her into it, Amy's possibly been taking a little more than giving, these days.

Wanda OTA

[scepterschild]

Wanda traded off between helping to cook and cleaning up. She was usually already in the kitchen preserving the different meats that were brought in, so it wasn’t out of her way to lend a hand. She’d clean up the leftovers, putting them away so that they’d last as long as possible and then set to fetching water and soap.

Cleaning pot and pans was rather tedious but Wanda enjoyed the work. For most of the clean-up process, she could be found standing in front of the counter with two buckets of water, one placed on either side of her, and soap. She would dunk a dirty bowl into one bucket, scrubbing it clean and then rinse it in the other.

To her left was a space for wet items to dry though if someone could find a towel she’d accept help drying them and putting them away too.

[enterprisingheart]

Given that he's still figuring his way around the settlement - and isn't necessarily the greatest at cooking besides - Jean-Luc figures that the best way for him help out is with the cleaning. True, it's not something that he's done for quite some time, but it's not like washing and drying dishes is something that one forgets how to do. Finding a towel is a little trickier, but that's only because he isn't terribly familiar with the layout of the inn in general, much less the kitchen itself.

"Do you mind if I...?"

He gestures in the general direction of the pots and pans that she's let to dry with the towel, by way of explanation. (He suspects the answer will be no. But he figures that it can't hurt to ask, just in case.)

OTA

[theoldlie]

There's something satisfying to Steve about being able to turn off all the noisy thoughts in his head and focus on a task at hand. Scrubbing tables, cleaning dishes, and the other forms of cleaning up after a lunch are ever better because then he gets a tangible result out of it. Something goes from dirty to clean, he's helped. He's done something. It's better than fighting intensely and constantly for a few inches, only to be rebuffed. Here, you clean a dish, it actually manages to stay clean, at least for a little while.

Inevitably, nothing lasts forever, unless you're Diana. That's something he's still trying to come to grips with. He scrubs a plate for a long time, scratching himself absently and feeling warmer than usual. He's sure that it's probably just something in the forest that he'd come into contact with, but maybe a stop by the hospital isn't out of order.

Then again, he's just itchy. Setting the plate aside, he scratches a little harder than before, grimacing as he settles down, peeking under his scrubs to see the bumps all over his chest, about four times as much as there'd been before. "That can't be good," he says, still denying how bad this could be.