#so willa and muriel... i would die for them...

[juliandev0rak]

Cuisine 🥘 🍞 

Ten: Cuisine – do they have any sort of relationship with food? What they grew up eating or making for others?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes​

Willa Clary, she/ her

The outskirts of the city, Vesuvia

A few months after the events of The Arcana

Words: 1444

Warnings: fluff, like highland sheep levels of fluff

the recipes they make: bread + stew

“Hey Muriel, what do you want for dinner?” 

It’s the same question Willa asks him every day around noon. She likes to plan these things in advance, and it takes time to gather ingredients out here in the forest. Dinner plans are just one of many new daily rituals Muriel is getting used to.

He wanted to be upset at first when his careful daily routine, waking at the same time, doing the same chores the same way day after day, had been disrupted. Routine was the only thing keeping him going for a while, and she’s come in and changed everything. But it’s hard to be upset when he gets to wake up to her face every morning.

Things are never quiet with Willa around, and it’s an adjustment that’s been surprisingly easy to make. She hums while she works, talks to the animals and the trees, and fills their evenings with constant stories he’s more than happy to listen to. She’s become part of his routine now, and though he might try to deny it, he likes things better this way. 

The first change she’d made was making sure Muriel ate proper meals. He doesn’t usually stock the hut with much, relying on eggs or his small garden for food. Willa insists on buying more ingredients, spices, flour, sugar, anything she fancies while she’s out at the market. She loves to cook and Muriel finds that he loves to watch her. 

She asks him to help sometimes, but he’s always too worried to mess things up. Sometimes he cooks dinner for them, but he’s always a bit embarrassed when he makes simple dishes and she makes multi course meals. She swears that a simple omelette made by him is better than the finest restaurant, but he thinks she’s biased. 

This time when she asks him if he wants to help with dinner, he agrees- if only to see the smile on her face. 

“What should we make!” She asks, already rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.

“Whatever you want.” He answers readily, peaking his head out of the front door to watch the rain that’s just started to come down.

“Oh come on Muri, you have to have some preference.” Willa turns to look up at him, hand on her hip. She’s always trying to coax favorites out of him, and most of the time he’s never thought about the questions before. There was never a point to having favorites before her. 

“Mmmm no.” Muriel murmurs. “Make something you like.” 

“What about something I liked when I was younger?” She suggests, getting on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf where they keep the flour. He reaches up to grab it for her and she beams at him in thanks. 

“Do you, uh, do you remember stuff like that?” Muriel asks, watching as she continues rummaging.

“Some of it, yes. I remembered this recipe when I was cooking with Asra a while ago, it’s a simple stew but my mother always made it on rainy days.” Willa explains, “And we can make bread to go with it.”

“Isn’t that a lot of work?” Muriel’s never tried to make bread before, he’s only ever gotten it from the baker’s the few times he’d bothered to make the trip. 

“It’s not as much work as you’d think! It’s just a few simple ingredients and some patience.” She starts measuring ingredients into a bowl, “Would you be a dear and go get an egg please?” 

“Of course.” He brings the hood of his cloak up to ward off the rain and steps out to the chicken coop. When he comes back he finds her already covered in flour and shakes his head in endearment at the sight.

“I may have been a little hasty with my mixing.” Willa laughs, holding her hand out for the egg. She leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Thanks for the egg.” 

“You’re welcome.” He blushes. “What next?” 

“Can you add the milk?” She smiles, gesturing to the bottle. “My mother used to make this bread too. I found the recipe written on a card in one of my old books.” 

“Now we mix?” Muriel asks now that all of the ingredients have been added.

“Now we mix!” Willa says, rolling up her sweater sleeves and reaching into the bowl. Muriel watches as she kneads the dough, not minding the sticky mess it makes. “Here, you try.” She dumps the dough out on the counter and sprinkles flour on it. He reaches for the dough tentatively and she smiles encouragingly, threading her hands through his to show him the motion.

“Like this?”

“That’s perfect!” She moves her hands, letting him take over. “You could be a baker, you’re a natural.” 

When it’s time to let the bread rise they start preparing the stew. They go out in the rain together to pick vegetables, Inanna trots along beside them. Willa shows him how to chop the vegetables neatly and he’s soon a pro, handing her handfuls of perfectly cut carrots and potatoes to add to the pot.

“The secret ingredient,” Willa leans in towards him as if it really is a secret, “is beer.” 

“Beer?” Muriel lets out a little laugh and she grins at the sound. 

“Yep! We only need a little, so we can drink the rest.” Willa holds up the bottle to show him and takes a swig. She hands him the bottle and he takes a sip before handing it back so she can add the rest to the stew. Feeling a bit bold, Muriel steps up behind her to put his arms around her waist, watching as she stirs the stew over the wood stove.

“Hi.” Willa twists her head around to look at him, smiling.

“Hi.” He smiles shyly, but keeps her pressed to him. She leans up to kiss him and when she pulls away he follows, stealing another fleeting kiss. She laughs and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Cheeky.” She grins, pulling away to resume cooking. “I’ll burn the stew if you keep kissing me like that.” 

Muriel blushes and steps away, on the pretense of going to add another log to the fire. After she sets the stew to a simmer, she joins him where he’s sitting by the fire and Inanna patters over to lay down in front of them. Willa settles into his side and he puts an arm around her waist again to pull her in. 

“I remember my mom used to make these special oat cookies,” Willa says, launching into her story telling voice. “I don’t remember what she put in them but I know I used to love them. I think I used to feed them to the sheep sometimes as a treat.”

“You gave cookies to the sheep?” Muriel asks, he normally doesn’t interrupt her stories but the idea is so strange to him.

“You’d be surprised how many animals enjoy sweets!” Willa replies, burrowing further into the warmth of Muriel’s cloak. “I miss them sometimes, even though I don’t remember them.” 

“The sheep?” Muriel keeps his eyes trained on the fire, he’s always afraid to hurt her by asking about her past.

“I meant my family, but I suppose I do miss the sheep too. I don’t really remember any of them either, but I know we had quite a large flock.” She continues, “But hey, at least now we can make new memories.” She smiles up at him again, hope and adoration clear in her face. He nods in agreement, at a loss for words, and she sighs in contentment. 

They put the bread in to bake and in a few hours everything is ready to be served. Muriel feels a surprising sense of accomplishment when he sees the loaf come out of the oven, perfectly round and browned on top, and Willa’s excitement makes him smile. Dinner is delicious, and it’s made even better as Willa shares her few memories of home, and the repeated stories that Asra’s told her about her past. 

As he’s trying to fall asleep that night, Muriel wishes he had more of his past to share. There’s so little he knows about where he’s from, and he doesn’t have many happy memories of his own to tell her about. He listens to the quiet sounds of Willa breathing next to him and feels comforted as she unconsciously burrows into his side in her sleep and an arm gets thrown over his chest. At least today is a memory he can think back on, and she's right- they can always make new ones.