#rivervale_lodge

"Please, yes! So, work on that, and when you're happy with it, let it dry, and then you can work on cookies."

She glances at the oven again, then quickly rolls out another batch of dough on another counter, her movements smooth and sure and practiced.

"Awesome! Do you make the house, too?"

"Every year! I like to let the childlings decorate it. It gets...interesting." A little laugh. "I can only imagine what Connor's contributions will be."

"Ohhhh, I bet. So long as it's not dog biscuits." A pause. "I like Connor, when he's Connor-the-kid. I don't like it when he tries to erase himself."

"Hmmmm...that's a very good way of putting it. But does it seem to you he's spending more time as Connor-the-kid these days?"

The cookies go neatly and easily from the counter to the cookie tray.

"I.. I think so, yeah. He and Gerd get along."

...and a batch comes out of the oven as the new set goes in.

"They do. I think that's a good thing for both of them."

The smell of gingerbread is strong in this room.

"Oh, can I give you a tip on that? Do a light layer of paint first, let it dry, and then go over it again. That way it will look smoother."

"That's smart." THIN layers! "You think I should put Jaymes or Dad?"

A grin. "What about Jaymes on one side and Dad on the other?"

"Oh, yeah! I could do that." She smiles, but she keeps her hands steady - she's doing this paint RIGHT. "I made a spice rack for Tove, too."

"And Symon is gonna go with me to Five Below to get gifts for everybody, like, the squad, right?"

"Oh, Tove will love that. You may want to stain the spice rack...or you could paint it blue, too, so they match."

"I stained it. English Chestnut."

"Five Below is a fun little place, if you know where to look. Good for crafty bits."

"Good choice."

"Well, I have twenty-five dollars saved up... so, like, I can get just about everybody something if I'm careful."

"Good." She nods. "I'm glad you know how to work within your means."

She's cracking eggs against a bowl and...pouring them into her hand over the bowl? It looks disgusting.

"...Ew..."

"I mean... what is that for?"

"For a badass fighter, you get easily grossed out," Kerri teases. "I need the whites of the eggs, not the yolks, for the icing. This is one way to separate them." A yolk goes bloop into another bowl nearby, and she repeats the process. "There's another way of doing it, sort of juggling the eggs between two halves of the shell, but this is quicker and I get more control." The egg white slimes down through her fingers, then bloop goes the yok into the other bowl.

"Do the yolks have a job on their own? It looks like snot when you do that."

"It feels like snot, too," Kerri agrees. "I'll save the yolks to brush over the cardamom wreath I'll be making. It's a sweet-tasting bread," she explains. "The egg wash makes the top nice and crusty."

"Cool." She remembers she is painting, and gets back to it. "Do you think Hastien will be here for Yule? Jaymes said there'll be a big party here for that, but, like... Christmas we can do at home?"

"Hastien is certainly welcome. Olgar will probably mock him relentlessly, but he's still welcome."

She washes up, then whisk in hand, she starts beating the egg whites. Nope, not using a stand mixer, just skill and stamina.

Dagmar pauses in her painting again, to watch. "I don't think he's got anywhere else to go."

"No? He's said that? I haven't really spoken with him much, I'm afraid."

"He didn't say that exactly."

"And is Olgar doing okay?"

A somewhat exasperated sigh, and she whisks faster, if anything. "He's fine, and he'll continue to be fine until he gets himself demolished on the trods someday, but that's the price of being a Rover." Irritation. "I'm hoping Hastien learns from this time and doesn't put himself in a position where others have to rescue him because he didn't listen."

"Olgar said Hastien thought he saw someone in trouble."

"So, I mean... it was a mistake, but..."

"Yes, but he thought he saw someone in trouble off the trod. That's almost always a trap, or far too dangerous to handle alone." A serious look. "Dagmar, when you're sained and you can trod-travel, you must be sure never to go off the trod, and if you think you must, wait until you have someone there to help you. You've seen what happens."

The egg whites are frothy and gleaming, and just beginning to stiffen.

"Right. Olgar is tough, and even he... yeah."

"Hmph. I saw the mark where the wound healed up. That was a bit too close for my comfort."

"Gotta be scary when he's gone."

She finishes whisking and tests the egg whites by turning the bowl upside down. Nothing falls out, so she rights it and puts it on the counter, turning to quickly rescue another batch of cookies from the oven.

She starts on her second coat of blue.

"Dagmar, I'm very proud of Olgar. I'm proud of who he is and the work he does. But...sometimes doing a lot of cooking helps me not think of the dangers he faces regularly."

"Ohhh, gotcha."

A shrug and a grin. "So I provide, people are fed, he comes home, and all is well. It's worked pretty well for years." A sigh. "The thallain encounter before this last one...that was a little closer than I'd like....but he's tough. And so am I." Confectioners sugar into the eggwhites, and some vanilla....more whisking....

"Oh, I know you're tough..."

A grin at that. "Thank you for that. How's the paint coming?"