Post by tiraslin on Aug 28, 2011 21:26:17 GMT -5
“Her, no. She doesn’t talk about herself much.”
Jenseny rolls out another length of dough on the table, her hands patting down the creamy off-white surface and dusting it with flour using a practiced hand. The creases around her eyes and the threads of white lightening her blonde hair give her the aura of a grandmother in her own kitchen as she works, and she offers a cup of the hot tea on the stove to you.
“Why is that? Well, some people are just private.”
She listens to your questions, and shakes her head with a smile as she covers the rolling pin in flour and then begins to work at the dough on the table with short, forceful strokes.
“Not as long as me, no. Awhile, though. Came to us through the Lady Proudmoore, you know. She’d been one of them… diplomatic aides. Detail for planning, and an ear for languages is what recommended her. We were under Captain Treyna, then, and her and the Lady had a special relationship. At any rate that’s what we were told. Spent a lot of time closeted, they did. Was a little surprising how quickly she moved to the officer’s quarters, all things considered, but she showed her duties well enough.”
The older woman lapses in to silence as she flips the dough on the table, reaching for the flour and generously applying the powder over the sweet-fragranced surface before again anointing her rolling pin. Her pale blue eyes find your own from time to time as she listens to you speak.
“Ah, it’s about her family?” Well, her parents were professors, studying heathen trolls or some such, not sure whereabouts, you’ll have to ask her herself” Jenseny pauses with a chuckle at the irony of her statement before she continues. “Lordaeron, I understand, though she herself was born in the dwarflands and raised by a blacksmith in Kharanos. Yes, dwarves, didn’t you ever wonder about that ram she keeps, when she isn’t riding that great charger of hers?”
Jenseny turns the dough again, then starts working in long, sweeping strokes to smooth it out. Off to the side rest deep greased pans, and a bowl of mixed spices and brown sugar rests on the outside of the table, which she is careful not to upset as she works.
“Well, as I understand it, she was sent up to study in Ironforge, never went to a fancy school or anything. Parents wanted her to follow in their footsteps, she wanted to be a swordswoman. There was a scene when she was ‘bout sixteen or so there in one of the darker recesses of the city. Girl saw a gnome being attacked by some louts a good deal bigger, and picked up the closest thing to her, and railed six stout lads pretty bad. They had to pull her off them, rumor has it she killed one but I don’t know anything about that. Thought she was going to get thrown out of school, she did, after that.”
Jenseny laughs at your reaction as she picks up a long stick and uses it to line up several deep cuts in the dough made with a long blade so that strips about eight inches wide are formed across the table. She sets down the ruler and knife, and picks up the spiced sugar to sprinkle it generously over the dough.
“No, she didn’t get kicked out! She was grilled pretty solidly after being held in her room for a day, and then they asked her if she’d go be one of them paladins. Things were in a bit of disarray at the time, with the political situation being what it was; of course, I didn’t really know aside from rumor myself at the time, we were too busy trying to just raise our children…. “
Jenseny shakes herself from her reverie, and begins to roll the strips of sugared dough, which she slices into discs that are a couple inches wide, pinching off a small amount to taste with a satisfied smile.
“Well, wasn’t a standard paladin education, I hear by any means, but she was knighted right and proper into the Silver Blade, has her insignia and everything. That was about the time the paladins split up, half of them going north to Stratholm and the other half taking off for Kalimdor. They judged her too green for Stratholm, and too seasick for Kalimdor so she got sent south to Duskwood to investigate matters with the worgen, leastwise that’s what her cousin Danjae told me. “
Jenseny pauses for breath at your slightly blank expression “No, you wouldn’t be knowing the Lady Danjae either. Not part of our company, keeps with a band of mercenaries out in the Hinterlands these days but was once a right and proper noblewoman. It’s on account of her troubles Tiraslin spends so much time these days in account books and all… Well, that’s neither here nor there.”
With practiced ease, Jenseny brings one of the large greased trays to the table and begins to arrange the disks, now face-up so that they look like little pinwheels, in. It is possible to see that the bottom of the tray has already been dusted with spiced brown sugar, and butter pats rest at easy intervals which she covers with the dough.
“Saved her life, it did. Still carries the guilt, though, of having lived when so many others didn’t. After the calamity, she went to Kalimdor to try and find her old teacher, and her cousin, and wound up in Lady Proudmoore’s service. She can speak orc and troll, and a little of the tauren language, too, and reads all those old elven languages; quite remarkable, really. She served the Lady a few years before requesting a transfer to more active duties; said her sword was going to get rusty and her legs needed shaking out. So she came here.”
Jenseny picks up the full tray and brings it to the oven, setting it in place before closing the door and taking a look outside for the hour.
“But you really should go talk to Tiraslin yourself if you want to know more. Now, would you be a dear and try this cake out? I want to know if I got the recipe right.”
Jenseny rolls out another length of dough on the table, her hands patting down the creamy off-white surface and dusting it with flour using a practiced hand. The creases around her eyes and the threads of white lightening her blonde hair give her the aura of a grandmother in her own kitchen as she works, and she offers a cup of the hot tea on the stove to you.
“Why is that? Well, some people are just private.”
She listens to your questions, and shakes her head with a smile as she covers the rolling pin in flour and then begins to work at the dough on the table with short, forceful strokes.
“Not as long as me, no. Awhile, though. Came to us through the Lady Proudmoore, you know. She’d been one of them… diplomatic aides. Detail for planning, and an ear for languages is what recommended her. We were under Captain Treyna, then, and her and the Lady had a special relationship. At any rate that’s what we were told. Spent a lot of time closeted, they did. Was a little surprising how quickly she moved to the officer’s quarters, all things considered, but she showed her duties well enough.”
The older woman lapses in to silence as she flips the dough on the table, reaching for the flour and generously applying the powder over the sweet-fragranced surface before again anointing her rolling pin. Her pale blue eyes find your own from time to time as she listens to you speak.
“Ah, it’s about her family?” Well, her parents were professors, studying heathen trolls or some such, not sure whereabouts, you’ll have to ask her herself” Jenseny pauses with a chuckle at the irony of her statement before she continues. “Lordaeron, I understand, though she herself was born in the dwarflands and raised by a blacksmith in Kharanos. Yes, dwarves, didn’t you ever wonder about that ram she keeps, when she isn’t riding that great charger of hers?”
Jenseny turns the dough again, then starts working in long, sweeping strokes to smooth it out. Off to the side rest deep greased pans, and a bowl of mixed spices and brown sugar rests on the outside of the table, which she is careful not to upset as she works.
“Well, as I understand it, she was sent up to study in Ironforge, never went to a fancy school or anything. Parents wanted her to follow in their footsteps, she wanted to be a swordswoman. There was a scene when she was ‘bout sixteen or so there in one of the darker recesses of the city. Girl saw a gnome being attacked by some louts a good deal bigger, and picked up the closest thing to her, and railed six stout lads pretty bad. They had to pull her off them, rumor has it she killed one but I don’t know anything about that. Thought she was going to get thrown out of school, she did, after that.”
Jenseny laughs at your reaction as she picks up a long stick and uses it to line up several deep cuts in the dough made with a long blade so that strips about eight inches wide are formed across the table. She sets down the ruler and knife, and picks up the spiced sugar to sprinkle it generously over the dough.
“No, she didn’t get kicked out! She was grilled pretty solidly after being held in her room for a day, and then they asked her if she’d go be one of them paladins. Things were in a bit of disarray at the time, with the political situation being what it was; of course, I didn’t really know aside from rumor myself at the time, we were too busy trying to just raise our children…. “
Jenseny shakes herself from her reverie, and begins to roll the strips of sugared dough, which she slices into discs that are a couple inches wide, pinching off a small amount to taste with a satisfied smile.
“Well, wasn’t a standard paladin education, I hear by any means, but she was knighted right and proper into the Silver Blade, has her insignia and everything. That was about the time the paladins split up, half of them going north to Stratholm and the other half taking off for Kalimdor. They judged her too green for Stratholm, and too seasick for Kalimdor so she got sent south to Duskwood to investigate matters with the worgen, leastwise that’s what her cousin Danjae told me. “
Jenseny pauses for breath at your slightly blank expression “No, you wouldn’t be knowing the Lady Danjae either. Not part of our company, keeps with a band of mercenaries out in the Hinterlands these days but was once a right and proper noblewoman. It’s on account of her troubles Tiraslin spends so much time these days in account books and all… Well, that’s neither here nor there.”
With practiced ease, Jenseny brings one of the large greased trays to the table and begins to arrange the disks, now face-up so that they look like little pinwheels, in. It is possible to see that the bottom of the tray has already been dusted with spiced brown sugar, and butter pats rest at easy intervals which she covers with the dough.
“Saved her life, it did. Still carries the guilt, though, of having lived when so many others didn’t. After the calamity, she went to Kalimdor to try and find her old teacher, and her cousin, and wound up in Lady Proudmoore’s service. She can speak orc and troll, and a little of the tauren language, too, and reads all those old elven languages; quite remarkable, really. She served the Lady a few years before requesting a transfer to more active duties; said her sword was going to get rusty and her legs needed shaking out. So she came here.”
Jenseny picks up the full tray and brings it to the oven, setting it in place before closing the door and taking a look outside for the hour.
“But you really should go talk to Tiraslin yourself if you want to know more. Now, would you be a dear and try this cake out? I want to know if I got the recipe right.”
)