Asemir
Null Prime
OOC:
I'm fething bored. Time to write some random stuff.
Also, feel free to join, but I'd prefer if the story doesn't turn into a mess of fighting and stuff, unless it naturally goes that way for IC reasons. It's supposed to be pretty chill. Not sure where I'm going, but this may be the beginning of a new journey for Asemir.
Or it could just be an exercise in wasting precious server space. Either works.
IC:
"Do you cook?"
It was an odd question, and though it took Asemir by surprise, he recognized the voice. It was gravely but firm, as if it came from a man accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. The words carried a weight to them, a heaviness that indicated it was not a rhetorical question. It belonged to a man that had only spoken to Asemir a few sentences in the past, but the voice was unforgettable.
"No, not really," the Forgotten said as he turned around and spotted the speaker. He gave the man a nod in greeting. "Why do you ask?"
Erik Mahler shrugged as he stepped around a woman leading her child by the hand. He gave Asemir a firm handshake, a handshake from calloused hands. "I thought you might. Why else would you be here? A farmer's market isn't a typical place for someone like you, or me, to hang out at."
It was Asemir's turn to shrug. He pointed at the colorful fruits and vegetables arrayed on the stall to his left. "You know how it is, Erik. I've seen the galaxy from all sorts of angles. Death, destruction, war, fighting. But I've never really seen it from something as basic as where my food comes from. Food just appears. The mess hall stocks it. The cooks make it. Or else it's bars of processed nutrients."
He picked up some kind of vegetable. Or fruit. It was red, but Asemir wasn't sure what it was. He tested the firmness with a gentle squeeze. "I mean, look at this. I have no fething clue what it is. I don't know what goes into the ration bars or the food prep unit that I have installed on my ship. It spits out a list of supplies I need and I purchase those supplies. But this thing? I've never seen it in my life."
Erik Mahler, the old war hound turned chef, laughed. It was a deep laugh, and it resonated with genuine mirth. "That, son, is a bell pepper. It can go into a whole lot of dishes, either fresh or cooked, and despite its name and color, it's not spicy at all. It's almost sweet, with a slight tang. It goes great with salads."
The veteran snatched another pepper from the stall, dropped a few credits in the palm of the farmer, and produced a small knife. He sliced the pepper in half and broke off a small piece. "Here, try that."
Asemir eyed man and pepper curiously before popping the sliver into his mouth. He chewed, noting the crispness, the mild tartness, and that hint of sweetness. "Pretty good. It's fresh. Definitely better than C-rations. Probably better than that food prep unit I have. I like the crispness and how fresh it is. Where'd you learn to cook, anyways? You own a few restaurants in town, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do," Erik said as he sliced up the pepper and handed some to the Forgotten. "Cooking, for me, was a way to get away from all the craziness. I'd been a soldier for, what, thirty years? More? Just got tired of that way of life. Just burnt out. Some people can make soldiering a lifelong career. I thought I could have, but, man, you see some of the feth on the modern battlefield and it just takes it out of you."
He continued as the two walked between the market-goers and lines of stalls of farm goods. "I retired from the service and on a whim decided to try my hand at restauranting. Man, that was pretty hilarious. I failed miserably, but the bank was generous and I managed to get my act together. Did some reading up on cooking and the science behind cooking. There's a science, can you believe that? Anyways, I found it soothing. Cathartic. Here I am."
Erik glanced at his companion. "Have you ever thought about giving it a try?"
Asemir didn't answer immediately as he considered the question. It took him a moment. "Yes and no. I can do basic things. You know, things that are edible. I once tried something fancier since it was for a special occasion, but that failed spectacularly." He snickered as he remembered Taci's expression of horror when she saw his attempt. "But, no, I haven't thought about seriously cooking."
"I can always teach you some tricks, get you started," Erik replied. "Following cookbooks and recipes, that's the beginning. A lot of it is from trial and error, though. You get a feel for how things work, what ingredients go well together, how hot your stove gets, that sort of thing. If you're interested."
The Forgotten though about that. It would be neat to pick up a new skill, something that had nothing to do with maiming and killing and sneaking into places to accomplish a mission. "I'll consider it, think it over. If anything, I think it'll be a fun lesson."
"Good to hear." Erik smiled and it was a genuine grin that was evident even from behind his beard. He reached into a pocket and produced a small card. "Here's my contact info. Send me a message whenever you're back in town and we can put something on the books." He glanced at his watch. "I've got to run now, my break's up and the kitchen is probably going crazy at this time of day."
Asemir glanced at the card. Erik's worn by smiling face was emblazoned on it, along with his name and number. "Thanks Erik. I appreciate it the offer. I'll let you know when I'm back on planet."
"Excellent." The old veteran turned and offered a wave. "Take care, son."
Asemir watched the man go and disappear into the crowd. How odd, he thought, to meet this person this planet. Almost coincidental, if he believed in coincidences. And Asemir did not. But he didn't think much of it. Some things, he had learned, you just let happen. You don't dig deep into everything.
And so he continued to browse the stalls of farm goods, thinking about the possibility of becoming a chef like Erik.
It was an amusing thought.
OOC:
[member="Tacitanya"]
Tagging you for FYI purposes, unless Taci also wants to learn how to cook? Or watch Asemir fail terrifically in the kitchen?
I'm fething bored. Time to write some random stuff.
Also, feel free to join, but I'd prefer if the story doesn't turn into a mess of fighting and stuff, unless it naturally goes that way for IC reasons. It's supposed to be pretty chill. Not sure where I'm going, but this may be the beginning of a new journey for Asemir.
Or it could just be an exercise in wasting precious server space. Either works.
IC:
"Do you cook?"
It was an odd question, and though it took Asemir by surprise, he recognized the voice. It was gravely but firm, as if it came from a man accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. The words carried a weight to them, a heaviness that indicated it was not a rhetorical question. It belonged to a man that had only spoken to Asemir a few sentences in the past, but the voice was unforgettable.
"No, not really," the Forgotten said as he turned around and spotted the speaker. He gave the man a nod in greeting. "Why do you ask?"
Erik Mahler shrugged as he stepped around a woman leading her child by the hand. He gave Asemir a firm handshake, a handshake from calloused hands. "I thought you might. Why else would you be here? A farmer's market isn't a typical place for someone like you, or me, to hang out at."
It was Asemir's turn to shrug. He pointed at the colorful fruits and vegetables arrayed on the stall to his left. "You know how it is, Erik. I've seen the galaxy from all sorts of angles. Death, destruction, war, fighting. But I've never really seen it from something as basic as where my food comes from. Food just appears. The mess hall stocks it. The cooks make it. Or else it's bars of processed nutrients."
He picked up some kind of vegetable. Or fruit. It was red, but Asemir wasn't sure what it was. He tested the firmness with a gentle squeeze. "I mean, look at this. I have no fething clue what it is. I don't know what goes into the ration bars or the food prep unit that I have installed on my ship. It spits out a list of supplies I need and I purchase those supplies. But this thing? I've never seen it in my life."
Erik Mahler, the old war hound turned chef, laughed. It was a deep laugh, and it resonated with genuine mirth. "That, son, is a bell pepper. It can go into a whole lot of dishes, either fresh or cooked, and despite its name and color, it's not spicy at all. It's almost sweet, with a slight tang. It goes great with salads."
The veteran snatched another pepper from the stall, dropped a few credits in the palm of the farmer, and produced a small knife. He sliced the pepper in half and broke off a small piece. "Here, try that."
Asemir eyed man and pepper curiously before popping the sliver into his mouth. He chewed, noting the crispness, the mild tartness, and that hint of sweetness. "Pretty good. It's fresh. Definitely better than C-rations. Probably better than that food prep unit I have. I like the crispness and how fresh it is. Where'd you learn to cook, anyways? You own a few restaurants in town, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do," Erik said as he sliced up the pepper and handed some to the Forgotten. "Cooking, for me, was a way to get away from all the craziness. I'd been a soldier for, what, thirty years? More? Just got tired of that way of life. Just burnt out. Some people can make soldiering a lifelong career. I thought I could have, but, man, you see some of the feth on the modern battlefield and it just takes it out of you."
He continued as the two walked between the market-goers and lines of stalls of farm goods. "I retired from the service and on a whim decided to try my hand at restauranting. Man, that was pretty hilarious. I failed miserably, but the bank was generous and I managed to get my act together. Did some reading up on cooking and the science behind cooking. There's a science, can you believe that? Anyways, I found it soothing. Cathartic. Here I am."
Erik glanced at his companion. "Have you ever thought about giving it a try?"
Asemir didn't answer immediately as he considered the question. It took him a moment. "Yes and no. I can do basic things. You know, things that are edible. I once tried something fancier since it was for a special occasion, but that failed spectacularly." He snickered as he remembered Taci's expression of horror when she saw his attempt. "But, no, I haven't thought about seriously cooking."
"I can always teach you some tricks, get you started," Erik replied. "Following cookbooks and recipes, that's the beginning. A lot of it is from trial and error, though. You get a feel for how things work, what ingredients go well together, how hot your stove gets, that sort of thing. If you're interested."
The Forgotten though about that. It would be neat to pick up a new skill, something that had nothing to do with maiming and killing and sneaking into places to accomplish a mission. "I'll consider it, think it over. If anything, I think it'll be a fun lesson."
"Good to hear." Erik smiled and it was a genuine grin that was evident even from behind his beard. He reached into a pocket and produced a small card. "Here's my contact info. Send me a message whenever you're back in town and we can put something on the books." He glanced at his watch. "I've got to run now, my break's up and the kitchen is probably going crazy at this time of day."
Asemir glanced at the card. Erik's worn by smiling face was emblazoned on it, along with his name and number. "Thanks Erik. I appreciate it the offer. I'll let you know when I'm back on planet."
"Excellent." The old veteran turned and offered a wave. "Take care, son."
Asemir watched the man go and disappear into the crowd. How odd, he thought, to meet this person this planet. Almost coincidental, if he believed in coincidences. And Asemir did not. But he didn't think much of it. Some things, he had learned, you just let happen. You don't dig deep into everything.
And so he continued to browse the stalls of farm goods, thinking about the possibility of becoming a chef like Erik.
It was an amusing thought.
OOC:
[member="Tacitanya"]
Tagging you for FYI purposes, unless Taci also wants to learn how to cook? Or watch Asemir fail terrifically in the kitchen?
