Alex
(#3649815)
Level 14 Guardian
Chef
Frosted Pocketmouse
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Guardian
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
16.65 m
Wingspan
16.82 m
Weight
9914.93 kg
Genetics
Steel
Iridescent
Iridescent
Green
Shimmer
Shimmer
Banana
Circuit
Circuit
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 14 Guardian
EXP: 14716 / 54161
STR
59
AGI
22
DEF
5
QCK
22
INT
5
VIT
19
MND
5
Biography
Head Chef of the Production Kitchen of Arcane. Takes care of the day-to-day goings on in the lair/kitchen. Has a mouse he nicknamed Chef who lives in the freezer. His passionate goal in life is to have a fully running bakery.
The Guardian looks up from the mixer, scowling. Cocoa stains his apron, and his tail flicks a scrap of trash away irritably. His kitchen is large and brightly lit, filled with tables and ovens and mixers and bowls. It smells heavenly-- he's in full production today, as you can tell by the cakes cooling next to the rotating oven. "And who are you?"
You don't get to answer, as a blast of cold air and a squeak from behind you interrupt. The Guardian looks away from you, craning his neck to see behind you, and suddenly brushes you out of the way, muttering "Excuse me, coming down." You turn to see a strange sight-- a frosted pocketmouse, bigger than you've ever seen before, holding open the door to a walk-in freezer with a sheetpan of pie dough held in its little arms. It also has an apron on, and a little skullcap with its ears poking out of the sides.
The chef takes a look at the dough before nodding and taking the sheetpan. "Thank you, Chef. Do me a favor and check on those blueberries for me? They should be about ready to pack up by now." The mouse squeaks and closes the freezer door.
You start as the chef turns to you suddenly, but his glare softens into weary acceptance. "Well, if you're here, then you're looking for work, right? Roll out this dough for me, a quarter inch thick each, and stack them on a sheetpan. When you're done give them back to little Chef in the freezer, and then we can talk about whatever it is you're here to talk about."
He puts the sheetpan on a table and goes back to his mixer. You hesitate for just a second before looking around for a rolling pin.
*********************************
There was something not quite right about the batter.
Alex frowned down into the bowl and decided to wait on it. Sometimes the answer comes if you let it, like prey to a trap.
So he busied himself with other tasks (He had to make all those cupcakes for one order, and a few cakes for the case, and Skaldi asked him to make more of those tiny cookies that needed the filling that he also had to make...).
Minutes went by. When he looked over at the mixer, Andromeda was there, staring at the batter with a frown. Alex hesitated. The spiral was mysterious, but not in the normal way. Alex could handle the normal way. If she had swept into the bakery amidst a cloud of fog and asked protection from a powerful foe, he wouldn't have batted an eyelid. If she had collapsed at the lair's doorstep, soaked in blood and carrying a terrible secret, he would have been on his way.
But she wasn't any of that. She told them freely of her past, and didn't own anything that could be considered damning, secretive, or even vaguely intriguing.
What she did have were her ideas.
Alex had been a pastry chef for as long as he could remember. Even when he couldn't bake, he dreamed of the pastries he would make one day, dancing across his eyelids as he slept, sugarcoating his dreams. He had never considered that there could be another kind of chef, one who dealt with making food... more tasty. Pastry was a complex art that took things you didn't want to eat alone and made them into delicacies. The right combinations of flour, of sugar, butter, eggs... blending them all together made flavors that were not possible alone.
Andromeda's way of cheffing was different. She took food and accented its flavor, finding new ways to enjoy even the simplest things. She had made stewed carrots the other day, with honey. It had been a revelation to Alex, who had taken seconds, and then thirds. He took seconds and thirds of everything that she made. This dish, the carrots, had inspired him to draft a new recipe (carrot cake with honey cream cheese frosting). And when he had presented the cake to the team, to ask their opinion, everyone had made a face... except for her. Andromeda had tried it with no hesitation, and while the other dragons gave critique ("maybe less cream cheese, and a little more honey... give the cake a few drops of food coloring, to make it really look carrot-y"), she had just said, "add a little bit of lemon juice to the icing and it'll be perfect."
And he had. And it had made it better.
She didn't know anything about pastries. Even the simplest cookie batter brought on a thousand questions. Whys and hows and how comes and what ifs... it made everything he did brand new. Mysterious. Why did he warm the butter? Why did he sift the flour twice? Was it tradition, or was it useful? It was one of the things he liked about her; she made him question things he had always taken for granted.
And even though she knew nothing about the pastries, she still managed to add things that helped, like the lemon juice. He didn't understand it. It was like she saw right to the heart of whatever she was doing, taking it apart and putting it together and fixing the places things didn't fit. She didn't stumble around in the dark; she built a flashlight and found her way through.
It was mysterious. That was really the only word for it. Mysterious.
He walked over to the mixer, peering down at the batter. "What do you think? It's supposed to be lemon cake, but the taste isn't quite right. I tried lemon juice, lemon zest, both... I was thinking of adding some lemon curd, maybe that would get the right flavor, but I don't know about the consistency..."
She cocked her head. "Do you have any limes?"
Alex blinked. "Oh. Uh, I don't think so. I don't usually do anything with lime."
The spiral nodded. "I'll be right back." She flew off, leaving Alex puzzled, but he just went back to sifting and waited. Andromeda always explained what she was doing, eventually. It was another thing he liked about her.
She returned with a few limes, and took a small cupful of batter from the mixer. He watched, fascinated, as she added a touch of lime zest and a squeeze of lime juice. She tasted... and smiled. He took the offered spoon and hummed in amazement at the difference in flavor. "This is amazing! How did you know it would work?"
She shrugged. "Limes have a very distinct taste. The lemon sort of blends into itself, it can only go so far on its own with the sugar. The lime is a little more bitter, it draws the sugar away so you can focus on the lemon. It just makes sense, when you think about it."
He shook his head. "You always know how to fix things, Andromeda. Any king would be lucky to have you as an adviser."
She smiled, the kind that crinkled the eyes. It made her look open, and beautiful (she was always beautiful, though. That was another thing Alex liked about her). "It's a good thing you're king of this kitchen then, or I would have to start looking."
Alex felt something warm in his heart, and smiled back. The kind of smile that crinkled the eyes.
The Guardian looks up from the mixer, scowling. Cocoa stains his apron, and his tail flicks a scrap of trash away irritably. His kitchen is large and brightly lit, filled with tables and ovens and mixers and bowls. It smells heavenly-- he's in full production today, as you can tell by the cakes cooling next to the rotating oven. "And who are you?"
You don't get to answer, as a blast of cold air and a squeak from behind you interrupt. The Guardian looks away from you, craning his neck to see behind you, and suddenly brushes you out of the way, muttering "Excuse me, coming down." You turn to see a strange sight-- a frosted pocketmouse, bigger than you've ever seen before, holding open the door to a walk-in freezer with a sheetpan of pie dough held in its little arms. It also has an apron on, and a little skullcap with its ears poking out of the sides.
The chef takes a look at the dough before nodding and taking the sheetpan. "Thank you, Chef. Do me a favor and check on those blueberries for me? They should be about ready to pack up by now." The mouse squeaks and closes the freezer door.
You start as the chef turns to you suddenly, but his glare softens into weary acceptance. "Well, if you're here, then you're looking for work, right? Roll out this dough for me, a quarter inch thick each, and stack them on a sheetpan. When you're done give them back to little Chef in the freezer, and then we can talk about whatever it is you're here to talk about."
He puts the sheetpan on a table and goes back to his mixer. You hesitate for just a second before looking around for a rolling pin.
*********************************
There was something not quite right about the batter.
Alex frowned down into the bowl and decided to wait on it. Sometimes the answer comes if you let it, like prey to a trap.
So he busied himself with other tasks (He had to make all those cupcakes for one order, and a few cakes for the case, and Skaldi asked him to make more of those tiny cookies that needed the filling that he also had to make...).
Minutes went by. When he looked over at the mixer, Andromeda was there, staring at the batter with a frown. Alex hesitated. The spiral was mysterious, but not in the normal way. Alex could handle the normal way. If she had swept into the bakery amidst a cloud of fog and asked protection from a powerful foe, he wouldn't have batted an eyelid. If she had collapsed at the lair's doorstep, soaked in blood and carrying a terrible secret, he would have been on his way.
But she wasn't any of that. She told them freely of her past, and didn't own anything that could be considered damning, secretive, or even vaguely intriguing.
What she did have were her ideas.
Alex had been a pastry chef for as long as he could remember. Even when he couldn't bake, he dreamed of the pastries he would make one day, dancing across his eyelids as he slept, sugarcoating his dreams. He had never considered that there could be another kind of chef, one who dealt with making food... more tasty. Pastry was a complex art that took things you didn't want to eat alone and made them into delicacies. The right combinations of flour, of sugar, butter, eggs... blending them all together made flavors that were not possible alone.
Andromeda's way of cheffing was different. She took food and accented its flavor, finding new ways to enjoy even the simplest things. She had made stewed carrots the other day, with honey. It had been a revelation to Alex, who had taken seconds, and then thirds. He took seconds and thirds of everything that she made. This dish, the carrots, had inspired him to draft a new recipe (carrot cake with honey cream cheese frosting). And when he had presented the cake to the team, to ask their opinion, everyone had made a face... except for her. Andromeda had tried it with no hesitation, and while the other dragons gave critique ("maybe less cream cheese, and a little more honey... give the cake a few drops of food coloring, to make it really look carrot-y"), she had just said, "add a little bit of lemon juice to the icing and it'll be perfect."
And he had. And it had made it better.
She didn't know anything about pastries. Even the simplest cookie batter brought on a thousand questions. Whys and hows and how comes and what ifs... it made everything he did brand new. Mysterious. Why did he warm the butter? Why did he sift the flour twice? Was it tradition, or was it useful? It was one of the things he liked about her; she made him question things he had always taken for granted.
And even though she knew nothing about the pastries, she still managed to add things that helped, like the lemon juice. He didn't understand it. It was like she saw right to the heart of whatever she was doing, taking it apart and putting it together and fixing the places things didn't fit. She didn't stumble around in the dark; she built a flashlight and found her way through.
It was mysterious. That was really the only word for it. Mysterious.
He walked over to the mixer, peering down at the batter. "What do you think? It's supposed to be lemon cake, but the taste isn't quite right. I tried lemon juice, lemon zest, both... I was thinking of adding some lemon curd, maybe that would get the right flavor, but I don't know about the consistency..."
She cocked her head. "Do you have any limes?"
Alex blinked. "Oh. Uh, I don't think so. I don't usually do anything with lime."
The spiral nodded. "I'll be right back." She flew off, leaving Alex puzzled, but he just went back to sifting and waited. Andromeda always explained what she was doing, eventually. It was another thing he liked about her.
She returned with a few limes, and took a small cupful of batter from the mixer. He watched, fascinated, as she added a touch of lime zest and a squeeze of lime juice. She tasted... and smiled. He took the offered spoon and hummed in amazement at the difference in flavor. "This is amazing! How did you know it would work?"
She shrugged. "Limes have a very distinct taste. The lemon sort of blends into itself, it can only go so far on its own with the sugar. The lime is a little more bitter, it draws the sugar away so you can focus on the lemon. It just makes sense, when you think about it."
He shook his head. "You always know how to fix things, Andromeda. Any king would be lucky to have you as an adviser."
She smiled, the kind that crinkled the eyes. It made her look open, and beautiful (she was always beautiful, though. That was another thing Alex liked about her). "It's a good thing you're king of this kitchen then, or I would have to start looking."
Alex felt something warm in his heart, and smiled back. The kind of smile that crinkled the eyes.
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