A sunny start, OTA

[stepfordbot]

Routines are important. Establishing them, maintaining them- a lifetime spent with a house full of children that required minding and strict standards to follow as to their care filled Grace's days and gave her purpose. As the family waxed and waned, as the children grew and lives became infinitely more complicated the routine changed. But one thing remains the same no matter how old or young, no matter how full or empty the house has become. The most important meal of the day.



Nutrition dictates a certain variation now and then, but a single dish tends to surface over and over. Be it the dietary value or the aesthetic- or that it was one of the few ways she could, when they were young, offer the children a moment that was close to normal. Normal children aren't raised with an unloving and distant father, Normal families don't run drills with knives and violence instead of nursery rhymes and storybooks. Normal families and normal children had eggs sunny side up with smiling faces made with bacon.

Which is on the menu today alongside a stack of pancakes and a few prepared, wrapped and warmed sandwiches of egg, sausage, cheese, and english muffins for those that need to eat and run. Sliced fruit and glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice.

She's singing under her breath, something simple and lilting as the smell of bacon fat and frying eggs fills the air. No matter what happens, she's been able to feed and provide. As soon as the first set of eggs are finished she calls out- "Children! Eggs are ready."

Comments

[stepfordbot]

Grace focuses on the griddle and eggs in the pan, humming as she moves from plate to plate, filling in specific orders tailored to personal preferences she'd never had to ask after, simply knew by observation. Turkey bacon for Klaus, extra coffee brewed rich for Five, protein smoothie for Luther- details for a detail-oriented mind best suited to meticulous curating of meals, memories, and heartfelt moments. As crowded as the house has become? She's in her element. More people to mind and care for, more people to dote on. Being a mother is her purpose. Her sole reason for existing.

To that end she allows an arbitrary measure of time to pass, waiting for Dhalia to make up her mind on her own before calling out to Dhalia in the doorway. "Come sit down, Dhalia, your plate is almost ready."

[screamingdahl]

"Oh." Too late to turn back now. She manages a small smile before she finally crosses the threshold of the door and moves to take a seat at the table. "Thank you, Grace." She takes a sip from a glass of orange juice on the table and watches the other woman move seamlessly around the kitchen.

[stepfordbot]

"You're welcome." Bright, easy and cheerful- the old melancholy behind her facsimile of normalcy long gone. A full house to mind, bellies to fill, people to care for, all her kids home? It's the happiest she's felt in... As long as she's existed. "Did you sleep well last night?"

[screamingdahl]

She nods a little at the question."I did, thank you." Whether it's instincts long-buried from a picturesque, all-about-appearances life she scarcely remembers, or something in her training from the Order, she feels the need to compliment, to play a part of a kind. "You have a very lovely home, Ms. Hargreeves."

[stepfordbot]

There's a brief moment of stillness in her otherwise perfectly coordinated ballet of hospitality, a flicker of consideration behind her eyes. A blank detachment as she swiftly calculates and compartmentalizes a title she's never been given and decides she never wanted, not in the way it's usually intended. Only a moment- and the dance resumes, plates served and set, glasses poured, and bright, bubbling good humor returned. "Please, call me Grace. Mr. Hargreeves did most of the collecting, though he did permit me to curate a few of the galleries."

[screamingdahl]

"Grace." She echoes, smiling a little at the familiarity of it. Like she was important enough to be allowed to skip that bar of distance. Dahlia rather liked that feeling, if she were honest. She sips from her glass as she watches Grace continue to bustle around the kitchen like it's effortless. "Could you show me, sometime? The ones you picked out." She thinks she'd like that a lot.