#zigvoltage

IT’S UNSPOKEN, BUT A CHALLENGE NONETHELESS: before he graduates, Trey will have put eyes on every single book on cooking the university dares let its students put hands on. Anything truly irreplaceable would likely be on display, else in a proper museum, despite Night Raven University’s esteem, but the collection is nonetheless impressive, a good smattering of older tomes and newer texts arranged for the viewing pleasure of—well, mostly Trey.

Every once in a while, a stray student or two who chose the oft-neglected life skills class as an elective will come and go, rarely paying Trey any mind other than a simple nod, if that. He’s had a light discussion or two with the chef ghosts returning things, plucked their wisdom for his own to guide his way through the shelves. At first, as a freshman, eager to simply devour any knowledge he could get his hands on, he’d chosen at random, leafed endlessly through pages when he had the time or a free study hour. When he’d ingratiated himself enough to use Heartslabyul’s kitchen unrestrained, he’d properly taken the books out to put their knowledge to the test, jotting down the best of the lot in his own recipe journal before returning them and taking another in its place.

Now, he has a system: one shelf per month, expedited or expanded if he stumbles across multiple books with recipes or techniques that catch his interest.

Today, it’s Valley Great Hall Etiquette—more of a collected manuscript than a proper recipe book, but within the weathered pages, leafed through with utmost care, some recipes are to be found, albeit written in language a tad more archaic than most. Still, with time to spare, Trey stands, occasionally pushing slipping glasses up his nose as he admires the illustrations and considers each snippet that catches his eye.

All peace is disturbed by a voice that pierces through the shelves. Trey snaps to attention, shoulders rising and book snapped shut without a finger to mark his place—

—Tension breaks, after a moment, as recognition sets in; it’s only severe by volume, and likely not reason. Book tucked underneath his arm, Trey starts walking, approach relaxed despite the ringing in his ears.

A couple of corners turned, and the source is found, a familiar freshman face met with a somewhat pleading smile. Trey clears his throat—for what little good it likely does—before interjecting in the space of a breath:

[ CHASE ] - Start chasing after what you believe is an “apparition”, only to be disappointed.

╰─〔❨✧ PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE TONE !! ✧❩〕─╯

OH COME ON! SHE DOESN'T LOOK THAT BAD! she probably shouldn't be so fancy free with so many new and unwanted houseguests crowding into her poor little home. As dilapidated and below living standards it was, Ramshackle dorm was now her home and she'd really of liked it to stay that way. But she's nothing if not a gracious and understanding hostess! (BETTER THAN A CERTAIN BIRD-BRAIN.) But still, not being able to prance around her ghostie infested dormitory in whatever she wants anymore is such a drag. Cause all these boys were here, doing all their boy stuff, with their stinky deodorant and ruining the décor. For all the sketchiness that Octavinelle brings they're at least the most tidy and polite. She can thank Azul for keeping them on a tight leash. Everyone else though? UGH...

Yuyu thought she was in the clear considering it was half - past - ass o'clock here in Twisted Wonderland EST and everyone was snoring loudly in their beds. She trudged out of her room. Not all dolled up, wearing just an oversized t-shirt, short-shorts and a long fluffy robe that she bought online because she deserved it. Being a night owl herself she was using this relative silence for some much needed R & R so she was wearing a face mask. Had pulled the hair out of her face in a bunny headwrap and she was scooting down the hall to the kitchen to find out if cucumbers over the eyes was really something people did. Until she wasn't.

The sound of increasingly fast footsteps rung loud and clear in her ears, and the vision of a seafoam green was a bolt thundering right towards her. Her babbling couldn't get questions out fast enough she ended up just shrieking in confused fright at Sebek who was about to maul her.

now we're asking the real questions! | open :)

also answering for @zigvoltage!

the short answer: well...no.

the long answer: what really constitutes a rebellion? does a rebellion have to be noted - and reprimanded - in order to count as such? if we're definining rebellion like that, then no, riddle never had a rebellious stage as a teenager. a rosehearts isn't rebellious - they obey the rules, gladly and with meticulous care.

but, the devil's in the details, as they say. there are a plethora of little things that riddle did as a teenager that could - if you asked his mother, had she noticed - be counted as a rebellion. wearing socks he chose, rather than uniform socks. eating a cupcake offered to him during a class party, in high school. sneaking home non-academic books from the library on the weekends. small, little rebellions.

It was late and he was irritated. Trying to do his usual routine in a shared bedroom and a tablet because he had to leave his pc behind was a disaster...he really wanted his space back.

Currently heading to raid the kitchen for a midnight snack he had heard knocking at the door. Stood there staring through the glass at the tall first year, the snow outside. Clearly locked out.

"I thought Fae could tough the cold...." He sneered through the glass mockingly as he pulled the thick blanket around himself more. "Surely you don't need my help." He added before heading into the kitchen leaving Sebek there.

“ TREY CLOVER. ”  in the midst of lunchroom chatter,  his voice is  still  impossible to drown out.  if they were loud,  he was  simply  louder.  parting from his usual circle,  he told them he would make this quick.  members of their dorm didn’t deviate from their habit of dining together,  no matter the occasion.  

before his upperclassman can fully turn to face him,  a  small black box made of dark - colored wood was thrust into his grasp.   enough force behind the movement to give little choice as to whether he would  accept  it or not.  the box is embellished with a lightening bolt on the lid,  faintly carved into it.   the contents were something he  anticipated  would strike trey’s fancy.  while not the originals,  it was a set of  hand - replicated  recipe cards from his grandmother’s collection.  after he’d vocalized an interest in learning about different sweets,   including those of briar valley;   sebek took to looking for his own family’s collection.   the cards were written in his own gothic,  all - caps  hand - writing.   perfectly legible,  he ensured that was the case.  

“ enjoy yourself today,  it’s special. ”  he says with smile,  leaving as abruptly as he appeared.  

NO NEED FOR GUESSWORK; Trey’s ears are already ringing at the sound of his name, the usual ambience of the cafeteria easily cut through by one booming Diasomnia freshman with no concept of an inside voice. He doesn’t typically stray from his own dorm, especially not during lunch hour, so he can’t say this necessarily bodes well, but Trey’s willing to hear him out. Likely, it’s just a cursory Happy Birthday, delivered with the same severity and timbre of something of far more grave importance.

—Trey’s face almost becomes acquainted with the gift, the very act of something being thrust towards him enough to jostle his glasses and give him pause from a friendly greeting. Thankfully, the delivery goes off without a hitch otherwise, and the lacquered box makes it to his hands without falling to his lap or on his plate.

“Hey, no need to be so uptight—” goes the same protest as always, falling on deaf ears when Trey turns to look at Sebek, catching the second half of his delivery but not the freshman fast enough to spare a thank you.

Trey’d expect his own freshmen to do something—no matter how many times he’d asked otherwise. But he supposes there’s a certain order to things; Briar Valley seems like it enjoys its formalities, and Sebek seems to enjoy that order even more than most. He turns back in his seat and opens the box, and, truth be told, can’t believe what he’s seeing when he begins to leaf through its contents.

There’s formalities, and then there’s blatantly overdoing it. Any one recipe card, judging from the ingredient list and approximation of measurements, contains a recipe that’s at least a generation or two before their time. The cards can’t be old, crisp and prim as the lettering and cardstock is, but each of them is clearly handwritten.

This is—beyond generous, actually. Trey’s own hand aches in sympathy, noting how many there are. Trey would have been content with far less; a singular happy birthday would have almost been too much.

" if you do not remain still, the circle will not be perfect. " sebek warns, pulling back with paintbrush in hand. placing two equal dots on someone's cheeks is a much more difficult task than it seems. leaning towards the palette, he takes some more red on the bristles, a certain intensity in his gaze when it comes to ensuring that he does not make error when assisting with the process.

Ah yes, the coveted entrance ceremony, the place where all students arrived to find their temporary homes for the next four years of their life. But compared to last year's ceremony and the ceremony he had from the beginning, this is certainly an interesting change of events: a familiar going loose, a magicless student, and seeing some of the sprouts taking on housewarden and vice housewarden positions for the first time. If nothing else, Night Raven University is definitely anything but boring. Call him sentimental, but seeing the new sprouts enter every year is also a very touching moment as well. More talent to develop and aid, after all!

He sees one of the freshmen approach him. Sebek Zigvolt, he recalls from the mirror. Diasomnia. Well, normally he would lovingly tease the incoming freshmen in his class, but it's the first day. Not to mention he's not even in his class to begin with! And what sort of teacher would he be if he hadn't guided this sprout to his proper dorm?

not quite a chef by any means, he's never so much as looked at a recipe book outside of a course. potion - making is one talent, baking is another entirely. trying to undermine the sheer genius of master lilia's culinary skills would be a task in itself, & such things were best left to those who had years of practice. pouring a cup of tea after boiling water was a fool's job, but trying to create a pastry from scratch alongside of his club's leader? perhaps he would have had better luck trying to get the horses to like him that day. holding the separated egg whites in one hand, he looks to riddle for an answer - expectancy in his eyes for the one who has a sweet tooth for such treats.

NOW WE'RE COOKIN'! | open

riddle hummed, and eyed the bowl silver was standing over, spatula clutched tightly in hand. admittedly, baking was not exactly what one might call riddle's specialty. in truth, it was something riddle considered best left to trey.

cooking, on the other hand, riddle could do. he was still quite new at it - back home, it wasn't as if riddle had very many opportunities to cook - but it had come easily enough. if one were so inclined to think of it that way, then you could say that cooking wasn't all too dissimilar to potioneering - which riddle had top grades in.

baking, on the other hand... riddle supposed it was similar enough to potioneering, as well. there was a level of precision required of baking that cooking didn't necessarily necesitate. so, perhaps, riddle could treat baking like potioneering.

precision, riddle thought, still staring down the bowl of wet ingredients, precision ought to be key.

folding eggs, though, was easy enough a task.

"take the spatula," riddle said, and gestured towards silver's vice grip. "well. loosen your grip first, perhaps. but take your spatula, and break the yolks. afterwards, you'll make a scooping motion..." riddle demonstrated it with one hand. "like so. and fold mix the yolks with the dry ingredients, until it fully combines."