Zepes slices of life

Cooking Mishaps

The kitchen was full of noise, which was what attracted Yugen towards it. Normally, at this time in the morning, the rest of the house would have been sleeping, which is what he preferred some days. He could hear the shushing as he walked into the small kitchen, taking in the sight of his siblings -well two of them- attempting to cook....something? Whist was staring into the pot as if it had offended him, and he was unsure just what Dissiri was doing.... Was that a whisk? Was she attempting to whisk eggs and flour? He decided he probably didn't want to know what was in the bowl.

Then there was Caim. To be honest, she looked almost like she was sleeping on the stool, face pressed into crossed arms on the countertop. If it weren't for the subtle shifts every time one of the others made a loud noise, he would have thought that she was sleeping.

"Are you trying to wake up the whole house?" He ducked as the whisk went flying over his head. Well, that was one way to greet someone. He picked it up off the floor making his way towards the sink. There was already a pile of dishes there, and he wondered just how long they'd been at this. Also how their father hadn't come down once to check in on them.

"We were attempting to make them breakfast," Drissiri muttered, and Yugen had to stop the want to laugh at her defeated look. There was a huff from off to the side, small amber eyes staring at him from the foot of the stool Caim was sitting on. The Slaghund meet his eyes lazily, spade tail thumping against the ground. It was wondered he didn't notice him sooner, but then again, Fern had always been more on the quieter side. Then again, the many times he was allowed to go out and just be a destructive brat probably helped with that.

Yugen hummed, rolling up his sleeves and attempting to get started on cleaning some, if not all the dishes. "On the bright side," He wasn't even going to attempt to help them fix whatever -Pancakes maybe?- it was the two were attempting. He was a terrible cook as it was, trying to fix theirs might result in just burning the house down. Something he was sure might get a snort out of their dad, but mom might murder the lot of them. "We'll know we can't cook next time."

There's a moment of silence and then - "Can I still lick the spoon?" Whist made a noise somewhere between a groan and laugh.

"You don't want too," no one commented on the fact that even as he dropped what was meant to be food, Fern barley sniffed it, before outright ignoring it. "Trust me."