//------------------------------// // Kitchen Privileges // Story: All Is Calm // by Cranberry Muffin //------------------------------// Gusty woke in darkness. She had a habit of pulling covers up over her head while she slept, as if that would somehow keep bad dreams from finding her. It seemed to work; she hadn’t had any particularly painful dreams or nightmares in some time –though that might have had something more to do with Gingerbread snuggled around her than the blanket cocoon she wrapped herself in. Rolling over onto her stomach, she pawed at the bedding, trying to fight her way out from under the heavy comforter. A sheet was twisted around her middle, further hindering her escape from the bed. She hadn’t slept well; the guest bed at Cupcake’s was much softer and more luxurious what she and Gingerbread had at home. The navy sheets were silky, shiny and utterly impractical, and the thick down comforter was a wine colored velour. The bed was entirely too plush and she had sunk into the mattress, unintentionally rolling into Gingerbread, who’d simply giggled and cuddled her close. Gingerbread -who had slept on the cloud-like bed before- drifted right off to sleep, Gusty held safely against her chest. Gusty, on the other hoof, had lain awake, staring into the darkness and trying to quiet her mind. When she finally slept, it had been fitful. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable when she felt like she was floundering in the plush bed. The result was one groggy unicorn, battling her way out of the tangle of blankets. Gusty had no idea what time it was, but Gingerbread was long gone from the bed, the space where she’d slept already cool. It wasn’t really surprising; Gusty liked to sleep in, but her partner’s profession demanded that she rise early. She didn’t often have the luxury of lounging about in bed, not if she wanted to have goods to sell for the day. For Gusty, waking up alone was not an unusual thing. She was used to it, even if she sometimes didn’t like it. When she finally emerged from the twist of bedding, the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg hit her nose and she inhaled deeply, taking a moment to just enjoy the scent she associated with her special somepony. Home always smelled like fresh-baked zucchini bread and carrot cake, no matter how long after the shop had closed for the day and how cool the oven was. The scent hung in the air, heavy and welcome, and clung to Gingerbread’s mane. Gusty woke every morning to the sweet smell of spices tickling her nose and sank into bed each night, wrapped in the embrace of Gingerbread and the comforting, familiar scent. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she’d hardly eaten a thing for dinner the night before, and she pushed the blankets fully off her, stretching and brushing a hoof through her tousled mane. Somewhere in the big, unfamiliar house, something was baking…And it smelled good. - When Gusty trotted into the cavernous kitchen a few moments later, she stopped short on the threshold, met with the sight of something that resembled controlled chaos. Cupcake was seated at a long, low table, pressing a heart-shaped cookie cutter into a sheet of perfectly flattened dough. She worked quickly and efficiently, not pausing for a moment as she cut cookie after cookie after cookie. Her tight ponytail bobbed in time to her body’s movements and she was…singing, her voice lifting over the quiet din of the morning’s work. “Who knows another bird?” She questioned, tone lilting and playful. “Me!” From across the room came Lemon’s excited squeak, “Chickadee!” The filly was propped on a stool, garbed in a frilly, pale pink, flour-covered apron, her own mane pulled back from her face in a loose braid. A mixing bowl sat on the table in front of her, a wooden spoon in it stirring of its own accord, wrapped in the unsteady yellow glow of a young unicorn’s magical abilities. “And what’s a chickadee say?” Her mother smiled, glancing over at Lemon without missing a beat in the rhythm of her work. In response, Lemon Meringue whistled, the sound starting low and rising in a decent impersonation of a black capped chickadee’s call. Cupcake laughed at that, her pale eyes sparkling, and mother and daughter picked up the chorus of the song. “Chickadee, chickadee, fly through my window; chickadee, chickadee, fly through my window…” “…Chickadee, chickadee, fly through my window; find molasses candy…” And joining them was a third voice, the more familiar sound of Gingerbread’s slightly off-key singing, just as happy and cheerful as could be. She was working at the counter, back to the rest of kitchen as she frosted the already-finished cookies, working carefully to decorate them to her sister’s high standards of confectionary elegance. Nopony noticed Gusty standing there in the doorway, completely out of place in the kitchen. She had little-to-no cooking abilities and her time spent in Gingerbread’s kitchen usually revolved around her either sitting quietly and watching the other mare work, or acting as a taste-tester – a job which she greatly enjoyed. But here, in this kitchen, she wasn’t sure what to do. There was no stool for her, like Gingerbread kept conveniently in a corner for when Gusty felt the urge to keep her company while she worked. She didn’t know where anything was, so she couldn’t simply help herself to some breakfast, and Gusty wasn’t so rude as to do so in somepony else’s house, anyway. So she just stood there awkwardly, uncertain how to make her presence known without interrupting the happy, homey scene in the kitchen, while her stomach growled its dissatisfaction with her plan of action – Or lack thereof. “…Find molasses-" Until Gingerbread turned from the counter to clean frosting from her hooves and caught sight of her, that is, “Good morning, Gusty!” Her easy smile spread across her face and she washed up quickly, crossing the room to rub her muzzle against the unicorn’s cheek in an affectionate nuzzle. Gusty glanced quickly over Gingerbread’s shoulder and, finding the other two still busy at work, returned the affection, pressing a kiss against one of the earth pony’s velvety ears. “Morning…” Gingerbread giggled, her ear flicking of its own accord at the touch. “Come on; I bet you’re hungry.” She pulled back, leading the other mare further into the kitchen, “I saved you some quiche.” She set about clearing a spot at the end of the table –clearing it as best she could, with Cupcake’s cookie cutters and scraps of dough everywhere- and pulled up a chair for the unicorn. “You sit and I’ll heat it up.” “Good morning, Gusty.” Cupcake looked up from the rows of ready-to-be-baked-cookies she was sliding neatly onto their baking sheets, “Did you sleep well?” “…Yeah.” It would have been impolite for her to say what she had really thought of the bed and though Gusty was a bit rough around the edges, she wasn’t that rude. Cupcake beamed at her, trotting over to open the oven and slide the baking sheets in. “Do you have any plans for today? I’m sure you don’t want to hang around here while we’re busy with this mess and you must have friends you’re just dying to see! Gingerbread told me you haven’t been to Canterlot in years.” Gingerbread had apparently not told her sister that Gusty’s exile from the royal city was self-imposed, or maybe it just didn’t occur to Cupcake that she may not have wanted to return to Canterlot in all those years. “No, um, I haven’t been in touch with anypony,” She mumbled, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes and sinking back in her chair, “so I don’t have any plans.” And she really, really didn’t want to talk about why she hadn’t bothered contacting anypony from her past life in the city, either, so she made a strategic change of subject. “What are you doing today anyway?” “We’re making cookies for the tree lighting ceremony!” Lemon Meringue piped up from where she was plopped at the table, still stirring whatever was in the bowl, though with her hooves rather than her horn. She was still at an age where her magic was unpredictable and exhausted easily, but that didn’t seem to be stopping her from helping and Gusty supposed she’d learned more hooves-on ways to do things from her mother, anyway. “There’s a refreshment table at annual Canterlot Tree of Light Festival,” Cupcake explained as she took up her spot at the table once again, collecting the scraps of dough and smooshing them together to re-roll and cut more cookies, “Providing the goodies for that is part of the catering job I took on. We’re making the cookies first, because they can be frozen and thawed easily when we need them.” She picked through the cookie cutters, this time selecting a delicate snowflake, “And they’re also the simplest to make.” “And Miss Dazzle wants lots and lots and lots of cookies, so we got lots to do!” Lemon interjected again, reaching for a measuring cup and dumping something white and powdery into her bowl. Some of it poofed back up in her face, dimming the color of her coat, and she sneezed involuntarily, directly into the bowl. “…Throw that out.” Cupcake sighed, making shooing motions at her daughter, “And please be more careful next time.” “Sorry, Mother.” Lemon made a face, sliding from her chair and levitating the bowl over to the garbage, where she proceeded to dump its glutinous contents into the trash bin. At the same time, Gingerbread set a plate of steaming vegetable quiche on the table in front of Gusty, giving her a small smile and a nudge before returning to her work. “Did she say ‘Dazzle’?” The unicorn ignored her breakfast, turning fully to look at Cupcake, who simply blinked at her in confusion for a moment. Then she smiled again, bobbing her head in affirmation. “Yes! The party planner I’m working with is a unicorn named Razzle Dazzle. She’s handled the Canterlot Hearth’s Warming Festivities for the past five years now and it’s been amazing working with a unicorn of her standing. Why? Do you know her?” Gusty was silent for a moment, slowly looking around the bustling kitchen. Lemon was studiously looking at the recipe for whatever she was working on while simultaneously measuring flour to restart the batter. Cupcake was looking at her, naked curiosity and eagerness lighting her pale eyes. And Gingerbread, back over by the counter, was watching her carefully, brow creased, an uncertain frown tugging the corners of her mouth downwards. She had no idea why Gusty was interested in the ‘fabulous’ party planner, but knew that whatever Gusty said next, it was bound to be interesting. The unicorn shifted awkwardly in her seat, gaze dropping back to the table and the plate of food in front of her. She didn’t want to talk about it; really she didn’t. But before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling from her mouth. “…She’s my mother.”