And once again, Diesel had slightly... 'misbehaved'. Maybe that was the best way to put it, even though it might have been a small understatement for the fact that he had
bitten another dragon just because of a little disagreement. But what could he say? He had a vivid temperament.
This was definetely not fair- his clan could have locked him up or sent him home. They could even have thrown him into the endless spiral of extra hours for the big boss, but no... they had chosen
this punishment.
Cooking.
Great Diesel, strongest of them all (except in his own measurement) was downgraded to a simple cook... his shame could not have been bigger if he had been given a cone of shame. At least no one had made him wear a chief's hat. So far.
With a dramatic sight that spoke of nothing but misery, he entered the kitchen.
At least he would be able to keep on munching his own creations... the judges wouldn't notice if he only served them like, half a plate, would they?
He would just cook his favourite dishes, maybe extra salty dried sharks or spicy ink fish... or deep fried crabs, ha! Let those judges lose their teeth while trying to eat his menu.
The Ridgeback was still busy snickering at his own evil plan (very evil, indeed), when he saw the ingredients that had been prepared for him already. He stopped dead, his eyes showing nothing but utter disbelief- as if he was looking at a tunnel leading to outter space and the Shade itself instead of simple plants. But maybe the difference between dragonkind's greatest enemy and that vegetable stuff wasn't even that big.
"You can't be serious... I'm supposed to cook with that? With... TUNDRAFOOD!?"
He snorted -Ridgebacks are rather skilled at snorting-, then prodded the colorful leaves with a claw as if he was fearing they might grow claws and teeth any second now.
"Uh... I cannot even try those to check whether they are good..."
Another long sigh, this time it wasn't even a simple act, and he sunk his head as if he needed some meditation over this.
Should he simply shred those flowers, label them as a 'salad' and be done with it? Or should he actually put some effort into this? Usually he didn't even put any effort into anything except fighting and messing with his enemies (and clanmates, and strangers, and familiars, and inanimate onjects), but this time... maybe he should?
Not to please the judges, of course, but rather to avoid being sent here again the next day... his clanmates, those monsters, probably had the guts to send him through this torture more than once.
Alright, the die is cast.
He would just try to give his best, it couldn't be /that/ hard, and then go back to the actual festivities and have some fun or scare some hatchlings (not that those activities excluded each other).
Still showing an actorly grimace, he picked up a few of those
winterbelles and started to cut them into fine pieces.
Doing so, he suddenly had an idea- even though he had to use these ingredients, he was not forbidden to use fish, was he?
Curiously he sniffed through the storage and checked for what seafood he could find, then returned with various kinds of clams. With more caution than most dragons would have gave him credit for, he seperated the slimy flesh from the shells, but the didn't throw the shiny exteriors away yet. And he only sneaked a clawful of them into his mouth- no one could blame him, right, he needed some energy for this task after all.
Another glance into the storage and he returned with even more seafood, this time a few starfish- he had only picked the brightest, but various colors. Yeah, this was something he could work with.
Diesel started to roll the delicate mussels in flour and spices, mostly hot variants but also some cinnamon to cause an interesting aroma, and then deep fried them until they turned into an appetizing, sandy color.
He put them onto a plate, forming a heap, then placed the starfish around them- he had only shortly stir-fried them, so they would keep their vivid color, and he had used less spices because they already had a rich flavor on their own. Then he scattered the shredded winterbelle all over the clams, so the white color would interact with the browny color of the meat and make it look fresh.
Next thing, he carefully placed the cleaned shells on the plate too, forming some kind of half bow around the food- it was only decorative, but it made the whole plate look a lot more elegant. Diesel made sure to throw away all the shells with holes or scratches, too... now that he had decided to put effort into it, he would go all the way.
Finally, he took the
heart roses and
blue roses (were those even different flowers or the same green stuff in different colors? Ah, who cared...) and plugged out the leaves, but this time he made sure to leave them whole. He then mixed them together, added a few other, smaller flowers without having any idea what to call them, and also put in some vinegar and pressed oranges to create a sweet-sour dressing that would go well with the musky taste of the seafood.
Lastly, he placed his rosy salad on the side of the seafood, opposite to the decorative shell pattern- he wouldn't try the flowers, they would taste like greasy grass to his carnivore palate anyway, but it looked decently and it didn't smell bad either, so he thought he would have a good chance of getting a high enough score to satisfy his clanmates.
And if the score was high enough, he would even go home bragging about it. Yes, that was Diesel- he had the ability to brag about pretty much anything.
