Imaginary Parties

Isabella stood up from her crouched position and dusted her hands off. All plants seemed to be doing reasonably well, so that was good. She had spent the morning checking every single one of them, making sure they had enough water - but not too much - and removing the weeds from some of them. Her stomach was grumbling now; she hadn't eaten anything yet all day. Isabella left the big, empty house, and made her way over to her uncle's house. He always had food around. When approaching his front door, she could already smell something cooking somewhere. Isabella knocked on the door and waited.

@ Mort

Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude.

He had found a beautiful cut of venison that he was dying to made something with. And today was the perfect time. Mort was up early, because that was the issue with stews, they would take a long time to prepare. Softly humming in himself, he was working around his kitchen, sharpening knifes, dicing the venison and preparing the vegetables. He enjoyed his time in the kitchen the most, this was his world, his own domain. Nobody could stop him once he started cooking. He even ignored the flashes he noticed in the stock, his magic was on the second place for now. He did remember the flash however and a smile had formed on his lips when he recognized his cousin, Isabella. It wasn't often that his family would pay him a visite, so he liked to cherish those moments. The knocking on the front door, made him turn on his heels and within a minute he opened the door to see his family member. "Hello Isabella, hungry?" He said with a sly smile on his face.

It didn't take long before her uncle opened the door; he probably had seen that she would be coming before she even knew herself she would be here. "Hello, Mortem.", she greeted him pleasently "I am, actually, I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you.." Mortem usually didn't mind too much, or at least she didn't think he minded, when they showed up unexpected. The man always cooked for a whole army anyways. And she had known him all her life, she was no stranger. When stepping inside, an amazing smell greeted her. It made her stomach audibly groan. "What are you cooking?", she asked curiously. It smelled like meat - something game-y, maybe?

@ Mort

Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude.

His cousin excuses herself for interrupting him. He shook his head. "Not at all, my kitchen is always open for family." He stood aside, so she could walk in and closed the door behind her. The weather was especially harsh today, so he'd like to keep the warmth inside as good as possible. He preceded her towards the kitchen and gestured her to take a seat. "Anything to drink?" He asked, while taking out a bottle of wine from a rack against the wall. He read the label, nodded to himself, and placed it on the table. "I have a beautiful old red wine, if you like." Mort turned back to his food, casually steering in the pot. "Ravenstag Stew, it's with venison." answered he the question that she had asked him before. "I hope you don't mind the flavour of wild game?"