Errand apple of my rye Solo Finished

threading as astrea soleil neptune-chou
solo thread with Cadony, Dix, Sokrey (House Elves)

To take up residence in the shrewd house of the snakes had a sort of innate beauty to it. Their place of gathering was perhaps the best example of this, half underneath the Great Lake and suspended in a constant state of infrequently disturbed peace lit in soft green. It's charming, so very beautiful. But threatening. If you headed out of the safety of the warding, took a long dip in the water then maybe the squid would get you, maybe you'd drown a watery grave. Sometimes it felt like an exact comparison to most of Slytherin's members. Sophisticated. Dangerous. Powerful.

Cedarwood Castle- once originally known as GleamGate Manor many years before Astrea or Astrea's parents had been thought- was much the same and yet all too different. Instead of underwater scenery and black stone, it was bleached brick and evening light through stained glass, instead of the damp dungeon air of winter, it was the crisp scent of fresh-cut azaleas in the summer breeze. But while the weight of expectation hung heavier upon her shoulders and company was rarer than a Sparkless on a rainy day in the middle of the residence, the hum of magic still ran clear and familiar. The pureblood hallmark of utilising owls still hung important.

Speaking of owls, there always seemed a constant flapping of activity in the sky from the messenger birds, and that Friday morning was no exception. But a peculiar thing did happen- Astrea did not often receive letters addressed to her specifically, unless it was from the Moons or Noirs in France, and she hadn't had the pleasure of going up to her father's study to pick up a note with Hogwarts stamp on it. The stubborn stranger owl- they had their own that Astrea took great care in tending to. How surprising. And concerning.

Fortunately, it was not a letter of discipline, for what misconduct had she been stressing about, she didn't know but the possibility was still there. There wasn't any that came to mind other than the Blossom Ball, but that was long ago- alas, the note was merely a task. The Keeper, mailing out as many students as he could in an attempt to amass some hoard of food. Specifically baked goods? Odd. But Astrea being a perpetual background character often meant that she hung in the peripheral, earning even a few house points would be beneficial over the summer.

One problem. She knew only the basics of baking, from books and the such, and while she has watched the house elves in the kitchen enough times to feel comfortable stirring the pots or cutting up the vegetables, she was not so well-versed practically. Solution? A visit down, down to the kitchen. The kitchens, where there was more a long rag of a sheet instead of a door to let out air and it was common to see little feet jumping around from place to place to tend to various pots and pans of cooking food. An intensely warm room with narrow windows high up by the ceiling, the heated area crowded with workspaces pressed up against the walls with a wide, open area in the middle lit entirely by orange firelight from the gas lamps hung above. During special occasions when the flowery smell of occupancy hung thick and sweet in the halls, the kitchens become a hub of activity- but lately its been as quiet as usual and the cooking that most of the elves bumbled around for become merely a fraction of time spent in between tending to the entire castle.

"Cadony!" Astrea ducked past the weaved boundary, instantly hit with the wave of heat as she called out for the head cook of a house-elf. The kitchens were almost empty, a few lesser elves tending to the fires and wiping down the counters as they stared her down. The rest were either taking a food break or keeping the rest of the household pretty for whatever imaginary guests they would have. It was apparent she only wanted the attention of the little blue cook in the back of the room, slicing various fruits for a platter. "Yes, Mistress?" "Will you help me in an errand? It concerns baking." "What kind of baking?" Astrea looked puzzled for a second, her mind drawing a blank. The other three cleaning elves chimed in with ideas- "Potatoes!" "Bake a cake, young mistress-" "Pie."- but none sounded particularly appealing.

"Ah-- Perhaps the milk bread?" "Well then we will see what we can do." The potato house-elf ushered her over to the washstand sink as the other two rushed to prepare the ingredients. The Cedarwood Castle elves were quite acquainted with this baked good- Astrea had always liked it as a child, slathered with sweet jam in the gardens or plain after a nice day out on horseback. Hands washed and dried, Astrea readied up next to her instructor, who stood atop a wooden step stool to show their charge at the proper level. "Let's begin."

Together under the watch and example of Cadony, Astrea mixed up the thick tangzhong starter of flour and milk, stirring at the simmering slurry until it was ready and letting it cool back down to room temperature. Onto the dough- bread flour, sugar, yeast, salt for the dry ingredients and combine before adding the milk and egg, alongside half of the starter for each. They would be making two loaves, Cadony explained, one of them of her creation and the other the product of elven hands. Hers would be sent to the Keeper and his would be kept home to share in.

A sticky mess it became- incorporate the soft butter and mix, until the dough becomes smooth and elastic, stretchy and shiny to the touch. And now we wait, transferring it into a bowl, let it sit with a towel until it expands. "The dough must double in size during this time. In the meantime, have some tea." A nice cuppa of roasted barley tea and the delivery of the fruit plates to where her mother kept busy later, the dough had risen high and firm enough to dent. Out it came from the bowl- "And now you punch it down, before dividing and rounding them out." "Punch?"-, and then let rest. Pie and cake elf, now remembered as Dix and Sokrey, worked on in the background as their head chef aided Astrea through the thin flattening and folding, pulling out two bread pans in between stoking the fire cooking stew and preparing the other courses. "Alright, now put it back into the bowl we had earlier and cover with this towel." "Alright." "Usually, the bread we make uses magic, but for your first loaf you must know how it feels. Mix up the egg wash."

As the young heiress of the house brushed down the expanded loaves put into the bread pans, Cadony busied himself warming up the oven, ducking under the arm of Sokrey as the other watched over the rice before jumping off to add more seasoning to the soup. It was nearing sunset and the kitchens would soon cool ever so slightly when the windows opened up. In the bread went, time to wait.

When the soft crust turns golden brown and the smell of fresh bread wafts through the lower hallways, the bread would be ready. When it is still on the brink of just cool enough to touch, one loaf shall be sliced and eaten with blackberry spread from the gardens, the soft flaky cut warming the fingers and pressed between the tongue as the rest kept in a bread box. The other shall be packaged up nicely by our dear Astrea, a few samples of their preserves inside, before being taken off by one of the family owls.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Let's slow down and take this moment slowly, be patient. Patient as Astrea did every day for her parents to come out of their respective studies to partake in mealtime, patient as the house-elves in the Cedarwood Castle do, patient like the sun falling for the moon. Because the world spins by slowly but its occupants run through life fast, and we all need a little time to sit back and just wait.