Sett held onto what few things he could that reminded him of the status he clawed his way up to back home. It reminded him of his promise to never have to go back to his old life again. To never let anyone or anything tell him what he could or could not do ever again. That was probably an unhealthy coping mechanism. But he didn't know that, and if he even did, he wouldn't care. He'd deal with this change in whatever way he wanted to. He deserved that much from the universe, he surmised.
In the mornings, he liked his space. He would cook breakfast--more than he would eat by himself. What he didn't serve for himself, he left for the other two.
He usually made breakfast for himself and his mother back home. Eggs, pork, fish, fresh vegetables, rice, beans, miso soup, fresh bread that his mother made a day or two before. Food was readily and conveniently available here, but their taste paled in comparison. In exchange for the convenience of shopping in the large stores he was introduced to, the food all tasted watered down, like soggy paper. For now he made the best with what he had. Some mornings he was up early to prepare miso soup with fish and rice, others he made thin pancakes, or a congee that he preferred to flavor with sweet and tangy notes, or rich and savory flavors. Some days it was natto.
It was a little thing that centered him and helped ready him for the rough days. That it just so happened to feed his flat-mates(if they wanted to eat it) was just a by-product.
This particular morning, the routine was broken by a knock at the door, but he seemed none the worse for the wear for it. No one else was able to answer it at the moment, and rather than facing the possibility of a series of steadily more obnoxious knocking, Sett picked up his bowl and chopsticks, and went for the door. If he wasn't still angry at the world, he would have been more polite about it. Would have asked them to wait. But he didn't. He, in just sweat pants(weird make of clothing but pleasantly comfortable for morning wear, he found), a barely-combed cowlick, and a bowl with chopsticks in hand (of steaming sweet pork and leafy greens, and a boiled egg), opened the door quite abruptly.
"Yeah?" He had a brow quirked and was already looking down his nose, letting whomever know how displeased he was with their interruption. But .02 seconds after opening the door, he realized whom it was. Rue's face had become familiar.
"Shit--" His ears pinned back and he grimaced apologetically at them. Regret sank in. Irritably so, but he still wasn't proud of himself.
"Uh. Hob's out, pickin' something up." He stepped aside, leaving the door open, and motioned for them to come on in. For that moment, he seemed to collect himself with a gruff stammer.
"Cute flowers, though. Make yourself at home." As he kept talking, he seemed to settle down, and his words were more airy. It almost sounded dismissive in how easily friendly it was, but that just seemed to be normal for Sett. He gestured with an arm for them to please theirself to whatever furniture or amenity they wanted. "I got breakfast in the kitchen, just gotta put somethin' on."
no subject
Sett held onto what few things he could that reminded him of the status he clawed his way up to back home. It reminded him of his promise to never have to go back to his old life again. To never let anyone or anything tell him what he could or could not do ever again. That was probably an unhealthy coping mechanism. But he didn't know that, and if he even did, he wouldn't care. He'd deal with this change in whatever way he wanted to. He deserved that much from the universe, he surmised.
In the mornings, he liked his space. He would cook breakfast--more than he would eat by himself. What he didn't serve for himself, he left for the other two.
He usually made breakfast for himself and his mother back home. Eggs, pork, fish, fresh vegetables, rice, beans, miso soup, fresh bread that his mother made a day or two before. Food was readily and conveniently available here, but their taste paled in comparison. In exchange for the convenience of shopping in the large stores he was introduced to, the food all tasted watered down, like soggy paper. For now he made the best with what he had. Some mornings he was up early to prepare miso soup with fish and rice, others he made thin pancakes, or a congee that he preferred to flavor with sweet and tangy notes, or rich and savory flavors. Some days it was natto.
It was a little thing that centered him and helped ready him for the rough days. That it just so happened to feed his flat-mates(if they wanted to eat it) was just a by-product.
This particular morning, the routine was broken by a knock at the door, but he seemed none the worse for the wear for it. No one else was able to answer it at the moment, and rather than facing the possibility of a series of steadily more obnoxious knocking, Sett picked up his bowl and chopsticks, and went for the door. If he wasn't still angry at the world, he would have been more polite about it. Would have asked them to wait. But he didn't. He, in just sweat pants(weird make of clothing but pleasantly comfortable for morning wear, he found), a barely-combed cowlick, and a bowl with chopsticks in hand (of steaming sweet pork and leafy greens, and a boiled egg), opened the door quite abruptly.
"Yeah?" He had a brow quirked and was already looking down his nose, letting whomever know how displeased he was with their interruption. But .02 seconds after opening the door, he realized whom it was. Rue's face had become familiar.
"Shit--" His ears pinned back and he grimaced apologetically at them. Regret sank in. Irritably so, but he still wasn't proud of himself.
"Uh. Hob's out, pickin' something up." He stepped aside, leaving the door open, and motioned for them to come on in. For that moment, he seemed to collect himself with a gruff stammer.
"Cute flowers, though. Make yourself at home." As he kept talking, he seemed to settle down, and his words were more airy. It almost sounded dismissive in how easily friendly it was, but that just seemed to be normal for Sett. He gestured with an arm for them to please theirself to whatever furniture or amenity they wanted. "I got breakfast in the kitchen, just gotta put somethin' on."