Cookie Decorating Table
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Now Clark was seated beside the overly energetic boy at the cookie decoration table.
Chatt had suggested that they should make eachother out of cookie.
Clark had just stared at him, as if anything Chatt had just said was completely crazy.
His gaze than traveled down to the plain cookie, that laid infront of him.
Than back at Chatt. A faint crease appeared between his brows.
“Well that‘s something…new.“
The words came out more quieter than intended, but his tone carried a hint of amusement in it.
It was a funny request, eventhough Clark would probably loose himself in trying to make it look perfect. Even if decorating cookies was something meant to be enjoyable and relaxing.
Well not for Clark.
Everything had to go exactly as he planned.
That‘s why he tested one of the piping bags filled with icing against the side of a plate. Testing if it still worked, because he hated it when something he was about to use, didn‘t function. He bet Ebony had more piping bags in restock, but still, Clark took something, even as simple as decorating a cookie completely serious.
Afterall he was supposed to capture Chatt on a cookie. Chatt Auclair. One of the people Clark liked the most around here. That‘s why this cookie needed to be perfect.
Speaking about Chatt, Clark looked to the boy again, taking in his sideprofile more observant than ever.
He took in his curls.
Those curls, who never seemed to fall into the same place again. Some strands curved neatly, others seemed like they just want to escape Chatt‘s head. He also took in Chatt‘s expression. Another fact that changed fastly about chatt. Clark would probably draw him with a smile. One of the first features he got to see about this boy, when they first met in the train.
A small smile crept onto his face.
“You know what? Your hair is going to be a problem.“
A short amused comment before he started with the cookie.
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"𝑀𝒶𝓎 𝓌ℯ 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶ℊ𝒶𝒾𝓃?"- 𝒞𝓁𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒮𝓉ℯ𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓃
Cookie Decorating Table
Banner by Camille De Varenne
Interacting with: Date: Words:
But the seasons were not the point. The event of gifts and all the food he could wish for was fantastic. Spending time with his family even more so, but he shoved that thought out of his head. Today was not the day to feel sad. Neither was any other day if it was up to him, but he simply refused to so much as think about it. He had heard rumors of cookie decorating long before he entered the Great Hall. The table was easy enough to find, he probably could have done so by the sense of smell of gingerbread alone. He found himself a seat, looking around at all his options.
He was not much for making fancy things. The artistic talent of his generation had apparently skipped him altogether and had gone to his sister instead. But he didn’t mind. People could make fancy designs to their hearts content, but they would still need to be eaten. He rubbed at his tummy for a moment, trying to decide between sugar and gingerbread cookies. In the end the gingerbread never really had any competition.
He scooped a few cookies toward him, and grabbed a holder of green frosting. It was his favorite color after all, and it always stood out so lovely against the white snow and ice the season brought. He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration and went to work.
If anyone had been hoping for anything worth showing off they would be sorely disappointed. He tried his very best to shape a tree on the first. It ended up looking more like a blob, but surely there were people who decorated bushes too and not just trees. He paused for a moment to study his work. Then he shrugged and shoved the entire cookie in his mouth. He struggled to chew as he moved on to the next cookie in the queue. His cheeks bulging, his jaw for a moment not quite strong enough to bite down on it.
The next one was overflowing with green frosting all over by the time he had chewed enough to actually taste anything. When the spices hit his taste buds he froze. He had heard a handful of students complain about the food last year. It was unbelievable to him, as it usually tasted just like home. So far this year he hadn’t taken the time to sit down and actually enjoy the food offered. His mind was always racing for the next thing to distract, something big enough to make him not think. It had worked, mostly at least.
Now he sat there, with gingerbread coating his fingers and tongue, and was smacked in the face with it all. The memory of a Christmas spent around the campfire, dressed in just about every piece of clothing he owned to keep out the cold. Hugs from his family as they presented each other with cookie designs, each one sillier than the last. His dad, his sister, his mom… He stood abruptly. His face had dropped the usual smile and gone dead. He looked down on the two cookies still in front of him before he turned on his heel and ran from the room, almost toppling a stack of something he didn’t stop to investigate in the process.
PC: Maximilianus Kenneally Vidler—————————"Life is short; make it weird and slightly chaotic."
iNPC: Harvey Dunn—————————————————————Roadhouse Radio
Cookie Decorating Table
Thoughts
Speech
French
Mention: None
Food. Many people would be excited, Isla was, but her excitement was not exactly healthy. If she took up on something, she’d need it to be perfect. And unfortunately for her, cookie decorating wasn’t her strongest activity. Anything that required crafts wasn't. But she would try, even if she spent a hundred cookies.
When Isla had first entered the great hall, the first thing she smelled was cookies, peppermint cookies to be exact, the same type her American aunt, who Ethan was living with now, had done once when she was 6 and came over for Christmas. The brunette wasn’t exactly sure why she remembered this, but she did, and a soft pang of jealousy made Isla tense for a second before the smell of the sugary treats in front of an already working crowd of students.
Isla looked around, trying to find an empty corner with fewer students around. When she did, she started looking around the cookies, trying to locate a peppermint or gingerbread. The most common shape was a gingerbread man, so Isla grabbed one and sighed.
She placed it in infront of her and reached for one of the bags with frosting; luckily, it wasn’t one of the vibrant colors that seemed to be newly created but actually a browish color that was pretty much the same usual shade of the gingerbread men.
Isla let out a soft sigh; she was a perfectionist, and she needed this to go well. She wasn’t skilled in drawing; maybe cookie decorating could be different? Isla pressed the bag and started to outline the cookie, letting a border of 5 millimeters as she slowly filled the already done outline. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t messy either.
The next few details, like the eyes, mouth, buttons, and others, happened in a blur of frustrated soft groans, head shaking, and tongue biting far too embarrassing for Isla to openly admit. When Isla looked at the finished cookie, she sighed, not her finest result.
~The sea does not ask permission to rise~ The banner emporium
Cookie Decorating Table
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"My hair?" He'd up and style it messy. It was about time he had a clean cut. He wasn't sure when the last time he'd cut it on his own. A slight jab and snip to wherever it looked good when he finally had the energy to take time on it. "Just draw rainbow dash but cooler. I mean—" He always seemed to forget Muggle culture wasn't likely known in the Wizarding World. A bummer, really. It seemed they're stuck in the 80's. "It's not that hard ha!"
As rigid as his hands were, they steadied for moments of a bit—practicing to include every bit of detail. He tugged his sleeves back to his elbows, grabbing the piping bag by its tail. Placing the cookie center-aisle where he could mainly focus. Most of the time, Chatt could be seen joking around or 'step-stooling' on others with his overwhelming personality that others find likely. This was an ultra-mega-super rare sight to see if the subject was centered on the boy.
Decorating was no alien to Chatt. Fragile hands; a single prick of a paper cut could make it shiver in fear and be swallowed by tears. Small hands; small enough that an ant could overestimate itself, confident enough to carry it on his own. His flow—a mess; his mother would smile in post-laughter, amused at his son suffering at his own will. Given that time, the same grimace plastered all over his face. Only with the tad of change that followed through with maturity. Past times came flooding through Chatt, the same scenario he'd been crying himself to sleep most nights. Those nights, thus forgetful at most, gave Chatt a push to wake up. He'd not been stuck to an endless, loving dream.
Pushing the cream onto the cookie, giving minor side-eyes to his friend. Eager to replicate him fully. Black outlines came into view, imaginary lines Chatt made to follow through. A vision was clear enough, sometimes disorienting along the way; he'd grab it and place it back-like a puzzle that rearranges itself, misaligning or, rather—repositioning itself.
Colors were played out, experimented with, and made a slight mess. Though a mess wasn't hassling enough. Slobby kid would wipe it with his finger and lick it clean. Sweets weren't a thing he'd been fondue off. Haha, get it? Fond, fond- ok, I'll stop.
A slight tinge came upon his face each time. But Ebony was watching, like she wasn't when he wasn't completely swallowing his fingers whole? A Pure-blood with the act of a muggle was not a good mix.
"And there!" Moving slightly backwards from the bench, to give his masterpiece the view it deserved.
"Er, is it good? It's good, right?"
He was sure of himself; it was, in fact, not good. He was completely chuckling to himself behind the cookie, showing it to Clark. From Clark's view, Chatts's head was completely covered by the whole. Moving his head to the side. Still chuckling like a kid who wanted a compliment, but barely tried. An analogy. Of course he did try. By a miniscule that is.
"You done? Let me see yours." Biting his lower lip, still not over his own
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OOC note: It's—It's nice....I've never looked so good...
Cookie Decorating Table
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for you are fearfully and wonderfully made, woven with timeless elegance. an old soul with a heart full of love, you are. |
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FIRST YEAR | HUFFLEPUFF |
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Elara eventually made her way towards the cookie decorating table. The smell reached her before she got there. Gingerbread. She followed it across the Great Hall and stopped in front of the table. There were cookies everywhere. Gingerbread men, snowflakes, stars, circles, and a few shapes Elara couldn't quite figure out. There were also bowls of frosting in bright colours. She looked at the red one. Then the green. Then the blue. There was far too much frosting. A mug of hot cocoa sat near the edge of the table. Elara picked it up carefully and took a small sip. It was warm. She held the mug between both hands for a moment before looking over the cookies. There were quite a few shapes to choose from. A gingerbread man seemed like the obvious choice. Elara picked one up. It was slightly bigger than her palm. "This one," she murmured.
She sat down and placed the cookie in front of her. After looking through the decorating supplies, she picked up a bag of white frosting and looked at the nozzle for a moment. It was a little different from using a pen. Elara squeezed it carefully, watching the line appear across the cookie. The first line came out slightly thicker than she wanted. She adjusted her grip and tried again. The next one was much better. She slowly outlined the head, arms, and legs, taking her time around the smaller spaces. It wasn't perfectly even, but it was close enough. Elara used the chocolate pieces, two for the eyes, and a few smaller ones for buttons. The sprinkles caught her attention after that. She hesitated. Uhm... sprinkles seem harmless enough. Elara scattered a few over the gingerbread man's arms. Some ended up on the table. She brushed them away with her fingertip before adding a couple more.
Elara picked up the red frosting. A scarf might look nice. She drew a thin line around the cookie's neck. Then she added a few blue dots along it. She stopped for a moment and looked at the cookie. She added a tiny star onto the cookie's chest. It looks better. Elara put the frosting down and looked at her work. It was simple, but she liked it that way. Her cocoa was still beside her. She took a sip, then glanced at the cookies other students had made. Some were covered in frosting and decorations. One gingerbread man had so much on it that Elara could barely see the cookie underneath. She looked back at hers. There wasn't much to it. Just white icing, a red scarf, blue dots, and a little star.
Elara picked it up to check the other side and found a few sprinkles stuck to the back. She frowned. I didn't put those there. They must have fallen while she was working. She put the cookie down again and watched the table for a little while. A few students were still decorating, while others had already finished and moved on. Her cocoa had gone cooler, so she finished it and set the mug aside. Elara wrapped the gingerbread man in a small piece of parchment and kept it beside her bag. Her card was already tucked inside. She stayed for another moment, looking over the table and the mess of frosting and sprinkles left behind. Elara picked up her bag and carefully tucked the wrapped cookie inside.
❝ but the heart has its own memory and you have forgotten nothing.❞
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coded by Marigold Wesley | best viewed in Charter font |
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Making memories that last