Private Cooking Up a Storm

"Huh," Qing frowned, having been politely disavowed of the notion that home ec was an "easy pass". As an immortal creature he supposed he didn't need to eat as often as mortals, and so had not been concerned with food; much less making it taste good. He conceded the point with graceful defeat.

But, now he was curious. "And how does a magically made cake taste?"

Ah. He had no idea which was supposed to be which. He was guessing that Shiro was one of Celeste's. Even he hadn't known who Kueria was until she'd crashed unceremoniously into his magic. "What's she like?" He asked, vaguely gesturing with his hand. "The one you teach."

Qing hummed and left the cakes at that. Celeste knew her shit, he knew enough not to blow up any kitchens, and he was content with the knowledge that someone, somewhere, was watching over the home ec rooms at manta carlos.

He decided to take a leap of faith and assume it was Shiro that Celeste taught. She seemed settled in well enough, so to him, it was a safe bet. Besides, even if he was wrong, he wasn't mentioning any names.

"Just wanted to know how she's doing in class. I don't teach her personally, but I have to look out for her still, you know? S one of the duties of a dorm parent — what, dorm dad?"

"Doesn't change the fact that while she's under my care, I have to be responsible for her wellbeing. These kids might as well be my kids." Qing shook his head firmly. He understood that some of the kids had guardians — Shiro did, for example, but he doubted that Kueria had anyone she could rely on for adult support besides himself.

"But," he said, "If she's doing okay, then that's fine by me."

Qing took another sip of tea. His mug was empty now, and so he set it aside. "Any success stories from the field?" He asked, "field" meaning the home ec room.

There it was. Celeste's smile brightened the room like a small sun. Qing could almost feel, tangibly, the pride in her voice. "They had a good teacher," he offered. He wondered if mortals would be as willing as these students to take the path uncharted. They lived such short lives. Immortals, he could understand; a human lifetime might as well be a decade in the span of milienna. But humans? Qing supposed that that was the beauty in mortal impulsivity.

He stood, stretched, and made to fill his mug with water from the kettle, still warm. He crushed a few chrysanthemum flowers before dropping them into the mug, along with a spoonful of sugar.

Lifting the kettle in Celeste's direction, Qing asked if she'd like a refill.

He wanted to ask, jokingly, if she knew how long the food had been out for — but supposed it would sound more insulting than anything. If Celeste was anything like what Qing had pegged her to be, then she probably made sure that everything was edible, at the very least. Instead, Zheng Qing smiled in thanks and took a token cookie.

Damn. It was good.

"You-" he said, ignoring decorum, with the other half of the cookie still in his hand "-Made this? Or one of the students? It's... good."