I was born the Unloved Twin

Lalalala~ I can speak again! Yay!

Unfortunately so can Lukas, not so yay.

Our voices are back without the burning pain that accompanies speech. How wonderful. Our poisoning wasn't all that bad then.... Ok that's a lie.

It's thanks for Gable and all the emergency treatment we received on site the day we passed out that reduced the negative effects of the gas poisoning. We're still being kept under close observation but for the most part Lukas and I, in our limited poisoning, are up again. Good to go!

Amar? Eh not so much, he's till stuck with the chalk slate. Which is only fair. A sort of divine retribution to when he temporarily silenced my tongue with his stupid tampered candy. Let's see how you like it on the other side of the slate now.

Though we've pretty much gotten used to them as of late. My handwriting got a little better with all the practice.

It's been a mostly silent three days of detoxing, riding out fevers and playing chalkboard games. I really need to make some better indoor games. Can we get some board games in here at least? Some jenga? Though I don't think my father would appreciate the blocks.

If anything we all got better at Pictionary. I think? That or pantomiming. It's hard to play when silent.

During this sensitive time in our recovery, even my parents were put on a Gable's 'gentle' sort of orders. Thank you. Please don't let mother eat me or my minions.

I may be her child but I think mother is particularly...keen on seeing the kiddies. In no way do I envy the treatment, but I can't help but notice there's a considerable difference in torture 'huggies' length, enthusiasm, and duration. A rather long and terrifying experience if she manages gets her grabby hands on either one of the boys.

A part of me is curious why neither I nor Lilyanne gets such intense treatment, but this is not an experiment I wish to see through. It's just not safe.

I admit, I somewhat understand where she's coming from. When they're not being wild monsters outside, the boys are very cute children, even in comparison to other mochis their age.

It is in my best interest then, to cultivate this cuteness.

One, as a sacrifice to the great mother. What excellent distractions and shields the boys make. I never intended on this effect beforehand but now seeing it in person, they make excellent bait against my mother and her infamous hugs. Two.....I'm just bored.

There's only so much you can play on the chalkboard, especially when no one can talk, much less scream. Some very frustrating games of pictionary.

These past few days across the window and on the chalkboard, I put in the kiddy clothing orders.

Cloth isn't anywhere as easy to get as I'm used to, due to production cost and just labor in general. We're in the age of handmade everything. That means practically all clothing is tailor made, measurements and all.

It's not out of nowhere. The regular tailors and seamstresses also have a few of my drafts from before when I commissioned my own things or  Alfonso's butler jacket or stuff for my sla- errr I mean Georgie and Abbey.

Amazing what an apron skirt with a wider range of mobility has done to reduce Abbey's clumsiness levels. It's not like I've gotten a lot of work done in the tailoring department but medieval fashion is noticeably inconvenient for both sexes. Underwear is expensive and most common people go without.  They wear their nightclothes, day and night, underneath a layer or three of outerwear.

Fabulous right? I get it, I was once a generally ignorant modern person. Medieval times and old-timey wear makes me think of sexy tv outfits and sexy corset barmaid costumes with the girls just spilling out of there. Like most of reality, that is not how it goes. Thankfully.

Hell, I don't think they have the sewing techniques to make some of that stuff possible let along feasible. For most of my servant women, it goes from that staple undergarment smock, to an economically cut kirtle, then a tunic or some sort of outer vest and side tied dress. All belted together, maybe more than a few times in between loose layers. In the kitchens or laundry rooms, they wear an additional usually undecorated apron. Married or working women in head coverings of some sort, for both modesty and cleanliness. It really is a simple cut and set of clothes but common women such as farmwives and villagers wear even less in terms of layers.

All without pockets.

For shame! Everyone needs pockets!

Instead of the complicated art of just sewing in pockets, people wear purses on their belts. How ...stealable.

With all those layers, especially to keep warm in the winter, it's no wonder Abbey is so uncoordinated. Or well....even further uncoordinated. Long flat layers of skirts, very trip risky, also no pockets for anything!

Since I've already taken in this child, I guess I'm responsible for her. That includes clothing her. She's the kind of kid that saves all of her pay to send back to her parents and siblings. Huh didn't she say she came from a milling family? How does that work in the capital? Well, I'll just ask her next time we're stuck waiting out the soap mix.

Dark-colored clothes are best for Abbey, they cover up any spills she may have made. We're getting closer to a classic looking maid outfit. Something practical and a little indulgently cute, so long as they don't impair her actually doing her job. To be honest, her clumsiness is sort of the ultimate dummy test run for any of my clothes that seamstresses try making. I feel a little bad that most of her 'new' clothing is made from scraps. I feel even worse that she gets so sob worthy grateful on them, as if I had blessed another world's house elf with some used socks. But hey, it's practice for the tailors and saves cost when something fails the clumsy maid durability test. Which happens a lot ...we're working on it. Sleeves and stuff are hard to make well ok?

Understandably the instructions and patterns of what I want are confusing to craftsmen, partly because they've never been seen before.

The armor makers and tailors housed at grampa's troops are much more willing to play and experiment with new things than regular craftsmen. They're also just a lot better at improvising and working with different materials, more out of necessity than anything. It's still a learning curve in what works and what doesn't.

Also, why can't women wear pants or something down there? Is it the high cost of comfy fabric? Come on, at least some drawers. With my clumsy maid, I feel that it's absolutely a necessity to make and provide those as well. Oh dear, isn't Abbey at ...'that' age for a girl...she's still quite childlike and just as flat but she's already 13....okay adding on some more orders.

This is just 'girl's' clothing, boys and men are other issues. Again, a great learning curve.

Ultimately everything is made for my own selfish reasons. It's not like I expect nobles to be flocking to sweaters and jeans. All of it is to comfortably clothe myself and to hopefully make everyone around me less ugly. It's not so bad right now because I'm just a toddler but old school clothes just aren't all that comfortable or easy to wear.

There is also a sore lacking of cute!

So, from the draft designs I might have made for myself, modified a bit to account for the primary schoolers' age and sizes, we have....new clothes!

Man, these minions sure have it good just by associating with me. Fresh outfits for them to accentuate that cute kiddy charm. Also, their small sizes are just easier to work with. Do you know how many kiddy outfits can be made from just one of mother's old forgotten gowns? Less cloth, less waste, more experimentation!

There's no need to keep on 'trend' with the current times. Cute clothes are cute, even better if they're actually wearable and not stiffly ugly. I'm not just playing dress up here, it's honest research in boys' clothing and future pieces for myself. I'm doing the world a great favor by innovating some convenient fashion here.

The dress-up was a bonus.

Lukas has a few more things in his closet with Gable but Amar is sorely lacking. Luckily mother has many easily missed items to recycle and Georgie has been ready for this project for a long time coming.

"Rosalia....I think it's time to calm down. The tailors can only remake so many items on such short notice." says Georgie, who I'm not so sure is even a jr. chef anymore.

"Awwww. I was just starting to have fun."

"I know. I was too."

Right now he's looking more like a fashion production assistant than my jr. chef. Underneath one of his usual layered vests is one of mother's untouched hideous dresses, deconstructed into a thick high neck top suitable for teen assistant. Fitted trousers with a hint of stripes refitted from his earlier shopping purchases. A too-thin layer of trim turned into a layered infinity scarf, instantly giving a modern look despite the lacking materials. A little tester in hair pomade that's honestly doing such a good job I'm considering gifting a vat to father.

It's a look! A fashionable look that's both practical and much easier on the eyes! He just needs a clipboard and some coffee to be my perfect assistant.

More than anyone else, he's the child that supports me the most in all my endeavors, whether he wants to or not. Luckily clothing is something he's 300% invested in. Since that raid mission all the way back, he's been very into comfy pants. At first, I feared he had shopaholic tendencies, but it's not like he's ever made a bad non-economical purchase. A savvy shopper and a smart dresser, when given the chance.

Too bad our chances are still limited due to materials. I can always scout and recycle more of my mother's overdone untouched closet items but those are better off saved for custom commissioned fashion pieces than any testers or basics. Till the spring and summer rolls of cloths are made available!

We only got some of the boy's outfits done but it's not bad on this limited time. It really is just faster and easier to make things kid sized.

" I like it!" models Lukas, looking warm in baggy overalls and layers of a plain shirt and slightly too large hoodie.

It's so out of place in this world but oh so simple and good, so boyishly cute. Cuteness rules the world! The overalls are made of very sturdy material to withstand Lukas level action with buckles and pinned hems to account for future growth. Pockets for stuff and a lot of space of embroidery patches if Gable so chooses to bless them. He just needs some kid sized sneakers and the look is perfect. Yes. Writing that down.

'I like it. Looks comfy' writes down Amar on his slate.

He feels the soft inner hood on Lukas' back a little enviously before looking back down to his own outfit in dissatisfaction. He even dares to give me a confused but accusing little look. Why if I didn't know better I would say it was even a tad hostile!

Oh hohoho! Revenge looks all too good!

Opposite to Lukas' finale outfit of comfortable streetwear casual with the softest linings, Amar has finally been all cleaned and dolled up.... into sailor suit!

Yes yes yes a little kiddy sailor suit! A must-have classic for any child. Those little brass gold-buttoned blue shorts to allow for a child's constant growth, tiny shin socks, the iconic adorable collar with striped on stipes for no functional reason. It's a real fancy sailor suit! An overly detailed sailor suit made more for land than sea, for the aesthetics. All topped with a red tiny ribbon on a bowed hat!

'My legs are cold' he holds out the sign, moe sleeves too long on his thin frame.

Amar's lip can't help pouting, face puzzled, especially at the primary school shorts. Something Lukas takes curious amusement in smacking at the exposed tiny thighs.

"Needs more bacon!" he declares, pinching and announcing the lack of mochi fat.

'I wanna switch.' reads the sign.

"No way, this one is mine. And that one -" Lukas tugs at the lovely bow tie on Amar's sailor collar "is yours!" then cartwheels himself away, passing the suspender's durability test, before Amar could write out another complaint. Or kick him again.

I'm going to die...from cuteness!

I really outdid myself on this design. It's overdone and quite silly in my draft, but on the kid, it's just overwhelmingly loveable. The power of the sailor suit is already quite formidable. It's almost like a child's proper school uniform if not for all the purposefully left on frills and detailing. This is the power of kids and cute!!! Too powerful!

'Can I change now?' pops up the next message, Amar is fast on that thing.

"Nooooooooo!" goes Lukas.

"Nope." relies Georgie, fixing the little hat on Amar's head.

"Don't you dare." I beam, giving him my honest maybe sadistic smile. What a shame we have no cameras. If we took him to a convention or such event, he's be swarmed with photographers. That's how good the look is.

Oh ho ho ho~ What's wrong? Are you not pleased with the minion employee benefits? This is a one of a super cute- I mean kind of outfit. I don't know how much it would cost if we sold it but it took ripping apart two dresses and purse to make this sailor suit. I don't know how well the people of this world will take it but Georgie just awwed and cooed over it earlier.  As adorably humiliating as it may be, the materials are still quite good and the construction is meant to be easy to move in.

"Don't be mean Rosalia, it's cold." motions Georgie for Amar to sit down so he can remove the little buckle shoes.

I almost shout out my orders to leave it because come on, how many chances do I have to get back at Amar? After all the drama of this winter? Also, it's a perfectly fine outfit! I'm planning on commissioning the Lukas version after this.

"We just need to change to knee socks. Now what color?" grins Georgie, holding Amar's now bare foot like a Cinderella, as he decides.

The small boy doesn't struggle but he looks upon us like we're incredibly cruel beings. Using him all morning as a dress-up doll.

Which is the entire point!

Out of some sense of mercy at Amar's baby shiver, Georgie eases the teasing to roll down the shorts to a mid-shin length, buttoning them off. See, I said it was functional.

Shame there's no more outfits to try on. There a few casual pieces, some actual pajamas and armor scraps that would last through the boys' rough lifestyle, but how can that compare to the cuteness of a sailor suit? Alright, I've made up my mind. Move fashion recycling up the priority list. Do it while Amar is still sick and trapped in my house's sickbay on Gable's orders.

I need my revenge.

Well to the kitchens! I'm feeling peckish and antsy to get out of here.

Just like last time, it's only Lukas and I that have recovered to an acceptable standard for release. For everyone's own good, Amar should be locked up like the absolute criminal that he is.

"You. Stay there. " I instruct the still ill boy.

From the seat where Georgie is playing Cinderella on his foot, Amar does that cute head tilt of his. It's especially devastating today in the ribboned sailor hat and collar. Maybe I gave him too much power in the cute department? The sailor suit must be used wisely. He looks to be considering it before he scribbles a simple 'okay' on the chalk slate.

Ha, like we can trust that.

"No, you really need to stay there. Get it? No running off. No getting into weird poison danger. No starting fires. No-"

"No hide and seek tricks!!! Oi all you funny guard people outside and the funnier ones hiding in the rafters, you can't play hide and seek with Amar! He cheats! Okay? No letting him out!"

Thank you Lukas. Absolutely amazing train of thought....hey wait there are people in the rafters? You're joking right? Well I mean my father's guards can be anywhere, I know that, but seriously, what?

When did they get up there?

'8am' writes Amar, holding up the bad comedy sign to my muttering.

He blinks a few times to think before adding on in smaller font 'they switched shifts',  followed by an 'I didn't start any fires?'

"...Uh huh, I will just ignore how you know about the guards' shifts."

I don't even bother with the arson defense plea. Just because we're not grilling him about it anymore doesn't mean I believe it. I mean, wow what a coincidence, the crazy hoody man is the only casualty in his own spontaneous lab fire. A toxic chemical fire that just needed this one conveniently escaped poison resistant kid to play timely rescue. Sure. Uh huh.

"It's your house Rosa! You don't know bout them?!" points Lukas, up and around. 

"Yeah, but security doesn't always follow me around in the rafters."

"But you don't know that they're there?!"

'Rosa is small and weak at sensing things.' reads the interrupting sign. True but rude.

"There are guards in the rafters?" Georgie looks up, repeating my earlier reaction, trying in vain to spot anything amiss.

Well good for them and professionalism. I thought the number of guards went up late, and for good reason. They're a little early in the timeline but hey there was no giant troops fire in my memory. Or anything related to the troublemaker minions. Just as long as they don't block me in my business that's fine, do your silent jobs.

Georgie looks split. His options being staying to coo over dress-up doll edition Amar or leaving to supervise the hell that Lukas and I could possibly raise in the kitchens. He's tempted, he really is, you can see the mother like sparkle and struggle in his eyes. The allure of the small pile of kiddy clothes is right there to mix and match. But in the end, the fear of leaving Lukas and I alone around food outweighs everything.

Fine with me.

"To the kitchens!  Except you Amar. Stay. Be good. We will be back but you stay right in this very room. Got it?!" I yell out that last part to any guard who might be listening in. Orders are orders when they come from my mouth. "And no taking off the sailor suit."

The named boy pouts, looking very much like a well frosted gingerbread cookie, but nods in agreement and waves us off with a flip of the sign.

'Bring back sweets'

Then off we go! There's a short cut from the sickbay to the kitchens but it's too small for someone Georgie's age and height to take. So the long way it is, aka the dramatic swirling stairs.

"Race ya!"

"That's very unsafe Lukas." voices Georgie.

"If you fall you don't stop, you just roll and roll and spin down the whole way." I deadpan.

Instead of that scaring him he just disappointedly "awwwws" while looking down the spiral longingly. We get maybe three steps down when the next genius idea hits him.

"What if I ice it?"

"Lukas no-"

"What if you what?" shouts Georgie but it's too late. We should have just taken the creaky lift.

It's not smooth, nothing like how easy Gable makes it look, rather Lukas shakes his small wrists like he's unblocking a pen, three or four times. That's still too fast to do anything as the steps right below his not yet snazzy shoes turns into, you guessed it, a slide. A narrow tube slide of ice shot out right in the middle of the stairs. What a hazard.

"Whaaaahhhhhooooo!!!" yelps and cheers the living hazard, voice growing distant as he instantly slips and slides before anyone can grab him.

"WHAT!!?!"

It is at this moment that Georgie first witnesses, or even learns, that Lukas can do that. Hey what happened to keeping the ice magic secret?!  Lukas you reckless baby fool. Gable won't be happy about this.

I peek over the banister ledge, carefully listening for any yelps of pain and disaster. Hearing nothing but the satisfied whooping of one not so secret baby Jack Frost I eye the ice slide warily.

But like...it's already there so.....

"Oh my goddess what?!! What the-....Rosalia....Rosalia step away from that."

"....If anyone asks, we keep quiet and say it was grampa's fault. Great talk Georgie."

"What talk?!! Rosalia don't you dare take another step towards that death trap."

From stories below, Lukas' megaphone voice cheers and sounds very much still alive, it sounds like "I'MMA DO THAT AGAIN!!!"

Actually, that's exactly what he says. For he has obviously made it to the bottom of the very inconveniently placed slide.

I do not take a step, per say but I do lift my foot while maintaining direct eye contact with Georgie. A tense second passes, followed by another. One of us will give and we all know the winning rate thus far.

"Ugh fine!" facepalms Georgie, limp and whining as he allows me to drag him to the start of the dangerous slide. Do not repeat at home sort of material. Shame, this is already my house.

Safety first! Seat the bigger person down first, then the smaller one can safely avoid a cold butt- I mean slide down snug and protected.

"Ugh why, why in the goddess is this happening?" bemoans Georgie, probably still processing the fact that yes Lukas just made ice appear out of nowhere. There there now Georgie I understand, but we have a slide to test out.

"It's all grampa's fault, now push."

"...."

"Onwards Georgie!'

With a great sigh and a lot of nerves, he makes that final push, and we're off!!!

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

"Whooooooo!!!"

I don't really know how else you describe a 6 story spiral slide except that you pick up speed real fast and that's awesome. In the middle of the screaming descent, we actually caught sight of a fired-up Lukas running up the stairs again. For round two of the ice slide I presume.

All too soon, a still screaming Georgie and I made our final ice cold landing. That was sincerely quite fun. Too much work to climb all 6 flights of stairs back up to ride the thing again but I wouldn't mind if we take the lift, even if it's creaky. But we have a schedule to keep and snacks to eat.

A few minutes after catching our breathes and slipping and sliding across the ice to safety, a  laughing mochi boy comes crashing belly first. Outfit all still stable and in one piece, even from the ice slide, these overalls are really passing the Lukas durability test.

"Great, you had your fun. Now get rid of it!" gasps Georgie, pulling up the boy from where he crash-landed into ice.

"I don't know how!" exclaims Lukas, all bright smiles and without a single care. Say, the fact that he just iced in front of someone else.

"What if Gable finds out?" I not so subtly ask.

"Oh! Then....uh oh."

We all slowly look up to the trailing ice, 6 stories high. A snake of cold fun and melting disaster. Lukas happy face instantly paling as the implications finally hits him. Ah minions, such simple creatures.

"Georgie will keep quiet but we gotta run to the kitchen now. If anyone asks -"

"How is anyone NOT going to ask?!" nags Georgie, interrupting me mid way.

"Ahem. If anyone asks, it's all my grampa's fault. He does a lot of weird stuff, a slide can't be the worse of it."

"But...what about Gable?" Lukas turns to me, fear and dread making him stiff, exactly like a naughty child caught red-handed. To that I give the wise advice of shrugging.

"You're on your own there. Blame grampa?"

"Blame Cap. Got it!"

"Alright then, onwards to the kitchens."

"What is wrong with you two?!!"

I think a 'caution wet' sign would be rather useful here but its' not like we have one. Time to make a break for it. Either way, not my fault!

Despite the nagging, it's Georgie that's the fastest in just getting us the hell out of there. Away from the scene of the crime. What a good getaway driver, though in this case it's more just picking us kids up and running. See this is partly why Georgie just has to tag along, baby sitters have their duties.

My return to the kitchens is nothing as special or glamorous as it should have been. Just a slamming of one of the side doors, Georgie panting heavily as he drops us to the floor. Ack, hey watch it, these clothes are new.

The majority of the kitchen staff that are present, either on duty or taking their breaks, merely watch with a mixture of groans or indirect cheers. I even see money exchanging hands, some quite reluctantly.

Hey did they bet how long it would take for me to return? Is that any way to treat your young miss everyone? For shame. This discipline here is just awful!

It is time for another lesson.

"I want to make a cake." I declare, dusting off my skirt.

Now that gets more of the reaction I'm looking for. People go silent, they go still, somewhere someone drops a pan with a clang. Then?

Then they're all over me. Oh ho ho ho! I'm the boss here. Worship me or you all get no new goodies. Near instantly I'm placed on the counter, the returned conductor to this tasty orchestra. With a whisk  in my hand I begin the show.

Okay fine, it's just prep work.

"Cake! We're making cakes! What kind of cake? Pancakes?! I make good pancakes, even Cap says so. Sweets! Will it have butter? It should have butter. All the best things have butter but cake has gotta have milk and butter."

"Someone, please," I instruct to the crowds, gesturing to the little chatterbox.

It doesn't take long for some cooing kitchen maids to pop on over to not only stuff Lukas' mouth with today's menu but to also pinch and squeeze at those mochi cheeks to their heart's content. Eventually, Georgie has to regain his senses and come over to shoo them off. Lukas may be the sturdiest mochi but like most children, he doesn't not appreciate being pinched to death. His childish arrogance and bouts of 'anger' only making the kitchen maids awwww and fawn over him further.

The power of cute is just too strong.

But it's something he'll mostly stand for and take, especially with the distraction of food. To be honest, I don't think he dislikes all the attention. Ah what a strange child. Oh I do see a pot of robollitta served for lunch in the kitchens today.

Since I'm also feeling a bit peckish and it's not good to bake on an empty stomach, I join him for half a bowl of bread soup.

Ah winter fare. Stale bread and cut crusts gets turned into a cozy one pot dish with thick veggie soup. It's even better if it's leftover soup. Don't expect to see this on the Ventrella main dinner table or in any fine dining. No this is the kitchen exclusive, the common comfort food! Fancy nobles begone, keep away from my leftover stew. Always better the next day, especially if it's something as warm and addicting as bread soup.

Though these days you may catch my father sneaking some in his office.

Yes, I know all when it comes to the kitchen orders. I know what comes in and out for tea. My knowledge of the ins and outs of these kitchens is only lacking compared to the senior staff and Alfonso.

"So what cake are we making?!" questions Lukas, his first bowl already inhaled. Wow, way to get Lukas to eat his vegetables.

"We?"

"Yeah! We're making Amar a cake!"

"We are?"

"Uh huh! He's sick and he asked for something sweet so we're bringing it and that's what you do. Gable taught me that! When I was sick and I wanted to eat something he brought it and it made me super happy because no one's ever done that before but even if they did I would still be super happy because that's just awesome to get what you want.  Even better when you're not feeling awesome. "

Why does it feel like I'm more likely to choke than Lukas at any time? He's the one talking with food in his mouth.

But...it's not a bad idea?

Either way I'm making sweets, no need to think too hard about his words. Especially anything that may somehow hit a little too close. Ah this is really a strange and sad child in all the oddest ways. 

"Lemon. The lemons are back in season, the kitchens got the first batch a day ago." I unexpectedly reveal. Huh, funny, I was just going to start making it but here I am including Lukas, the bacon disaster. Which both scares and reminds me.

"You can't add bacon to it!" I panic, looking around for anything potentially piggy related nearby.

"I won't!" he denies vigorously, as if he doesn't have past criminal history regarding the illegal cross of fatty meat and delicate sweets.

"Lukas, you really are not allowed to bring anything weird or bacony near the cake mix."

"Oi, I said I won't! If we're making it for Amar it has to be stuff he likes so we can add that cinnamon and stuff."

"....I think everyone ATE the cinnamon supply when they went Torte de Riso crazy."

"Oh yeah! Those were yummy but you all made too many and then it got sad and I didn't wanna eat anymore. Even Amar stopped wanting them!"

"Right! I keep telling them, even it's tasty you just get tired."

While the staff diligently giggle and watch us like puppies through the window, Lukas and I argue and go over the recipe game plan. Okay to be fair to the staff, they're preparing those basic baking necessities such as warming up the brick oven and getting the right flour out.

"It's gotta have butter!"

"Alright alright, lemon butter cake- easy enough to do."

"And the brown candy stuff that makes apples yummy!"

"Caramel?"

"Yeah that!

"We still have some of that?"

To my question, Lukas pulls out exactly 5 of those wrapped caramels from his new pockets. His Grey-blue eyes brighter than a modern lightbulb as he proudly presents those candies. For everyone's sake, especially my own, I can only hope they're not drugged.

"Rosalia you think too much! Doing is faster! Let's just start making it."

"No you dumdum, you can't just wing and blindly make a good cake. Trust me it will taste a lot better if you plan out something first."

"Yeeeeessss you can, just watch me! I'll show you!" as Lukas declares himself rather grampa style dramatically, he holds up ....a spoonful of ricotta. Huh?

"....you know what....never mind, I think I got something figured out."

"See, told you!"

Alright, I can work with this. There's enough ingredient here to play with this.

As always, I call in the staff and Georgie. There's only so much I can do with my little arms and I don't exactly trust Lukas' coordination. We have all this help, so of course, I'm using it. With a little yelling help from Lukas, further ingredients are gathered to the prepared counter.

The baking pans are out and almost ready, extra not only to make more cakes but just in case things go wrong.  Egg whites and some fine sugar get to whisking, turning into meringue sweet fluff. The more bubbles, the better. While that's whisking with my human mixers, Lukas comes back with enough softened butter to kill a grown man. 

Carefully we watch more than do ourselves, as I order the skilled hands to fold in the butter, ricotta, lemon juice to be as fluffy as possible. Once in a while, they let Lukas go in for a burst of crazy mixing.

Slowly I order to the addition of the dry ingredients, including lemon zest. It's not like I can just stop by the store and buy a box of baking powder, so let's hope a substitution of left out buttermilk will do the job. It's partly fermented, which should help the cake rise.

With the buttermilk, Lukas gives me a hateful grin and a misunderstood thumbs up in approval. As if I've seen the light of milk and fats. I fear this child and his addiction to fatty richness may lead him to a future of health complications. Alright, let's keep feeding him those vegetables.

When the fluffed up cake batter is finally ready to be poured and bakes, I move on to the caramel. At first, Lukas wanted to make it as thick as we've done before, suitable to dripping. But I'm thinking something more drizzle worthy, and if possible some crunch.

"Actually, Lukas, I have a much more important job for you." I come to a startling realization.

"You just wanna hog the caramels!" complains the boy, wary about my sudden change in mood.

He's doing that puff up thing again where he's trying to look bigger than he is against a threat.

How odd, it's just me and I'm much smaller and not scary at all. Here here now Lukas. Here little ice maker, come make some whipped cream for me now!

It is with great coordination and the help of a maybe stressed out Georgie, that we managed to get a perfectly chilled whipped cream made at the same time as a caramel drizzle. The crunchy bits were essentially just sugar, cooked and cracked. A little more zest gathered and alright, ready for assembly!

The cakes didn't take as long to bake and rise as some other recipes out there but it was still quite a chore to watch over them. With no thermometers in this place, I'm stuck with the toothpick test to ensure they're ready.

Somewhere along the great cake making crew, I hear a far off screaming that sounds like my mother going "kyaaaaaa!" again. It echoes and shakes for a bit before dying down.

The sound makes Lukas near jump off the counter in a hiss and a huff like a frightened animal but I quickly turned him back to work. Work mode on, it's baking time! Baking is not just cooking, it is a timed science! Aka, things can just go wrong so easily with cake.

The time it takes for the cakes to cool, the time it takes to cut, stack and frost, it all adds up. The entire process was honestly a lot messier than I anticipated despite the experienced chefs in the kitchen. But then again, a baking cake is a whole new thing.

Sweets are worth it though.

Finally, after a lot of screaming, spills, and impromptu mini lessons, the final cake is made.

A three-tiered lemon ricotta pound cake! Complete with lemon zested whipped cream, caramel drizzle, and little crunchy bits! Decorate with some honeyed lemon slices and strategic dollars of cream and....oh ....it's too beautiful. So gorgeous. Put that thing in a magazine.  I feel like crying from the beauty of it all. Though that could have just been the baking stress.

I'm only three years old and it feels like I'm the sole cooking instructor in this class of chefs. Woe is me.

"I did a pretty good job!" licks Lukas, cleaning a spoon of whipped cream.

"...Did you now?" I turn slowly over.

"Yep! I'm super awesome so my cake is super awesome. Told you! Good job sidekick!"

Something in me snaps, just for a second, and I stick some unsweetened lemon slices directly into his mouth. Then watch on as he makes that sour face, flailing until he finishes chewing and swallowing.

"Ha! Challenge accepted and defeated!" he shouts, tears still in his eyes from the intense sour on childish taste buds. As always, even if he can't stand it, he still finishes. It's an amazing skill.

"Why didn't you just....eat some whipped cream with it?"

"OH Yeah!!!"

As Lukas shovels spare whipped cream I can't help but look back to the finished cake, as do most of the remaining staff, who are in absolute awe of it. Yeah pastry making is a little lacking in this world. The tall decorated cake certainly overkill on the whole 'bring back sweets' requests. To a kid it;s the huge and fantastical cream and sweet creation, I would love to have this as my-...

Oh.

"Hey Rosa! You know what this cake reminds me of? The sweet loaf that Gable made me on my birthday! There were lots of yummy things but that one was the biggest and yummiest."

I look at the grinning older boy, sincerely unsure if he even knows what he's saying of if he's been playing me this whole time. There's an annoying twinkle in his wide eyes and that mischievous grin is a little too much like a smirk compared to his usual big dumb smile. Maybe it's the tiredness of a full day slaving over my kitchen but I feel like falling over and laughing at the same time

It's a birthday cake. We went all out to make a damn birthday cake!

"Lukas?...Do you know when is Amar's birthday?"

"Nope! He doesn't either! Amar told me that it's really cool I knew mine and that I even have one. I don't know what he means by that but it sounds too sad so I don't like it. I thought it was okay not to do anything on birthdays but then Gable did stuff for me. And you did too, then you had a birthday. And even if Amar gives me stuff or makes a cool sidekick he doesn't have one for me to do anything back!"

"So what you're saying is...you want to give him a birthday anyways."

"Hey hey hey Rosa did you know we all met in the spring?!"

"Did we now?"

"I met you last spring! When you weren't being a crawly baby and were talky and cool enough to be a sidekick to the awesome me. Amar's the same, two springs ago! So even if he doesn't remember his birthday-"

"Let's make one in the spring?"

"Don't be dumb Rosalia, it's already spring!"

It's already starting to be spring. Lemons are ready and the earth is thawing. Somehow we've ended up in this strange position with an unintentional birthday cake. I still don't know what to make of all this but....it's not so bad a position to be.

"Did you brats finally figure it out? Are we done here?!" moans Georgie, clearing away dirty pans and bowls to be washed.

"Figure out what?!" exclaims Lukas, point a finger over to the weak armed teen.

In retaliation, Georgie pulls on a mochi soft ear. Ow ow ow why am I getting pulled at as well?!

"Don't play dumb. Nice new clothes, a big cake, even games. I figured out your plan hours ago you little twerps. Why else would I let you make such a big mess everywhere?" Georgie pulls at each of our earlobes to the sink basin for a clean up.

How was this my plan when I didn't even know about it till now huh? Ow ow ow is this really necessary?

"Huh! Only hours ago? You're slow aren't ya Georgie?! That's ok, you can still be a really good sidekick one day if you try and study and stuff. Like an indoor super sidekick!"

Lukas gets his face dunked in cold water, effectively shutting him up. While I'm not far behind in this rough treatment, at least I don't get as violently scrubbed clean. Lukas is covered in a lot more whipped cream. I didn't even say anything bad this time. Georgie? A little respect here?

"Alright. Good enough. So, just this once...I'll let you go without yelling about the mess."

"Georgie, you already yelled at us for that."

"Yeah!!!"

An earlobe pull gets us both to quiet down, ow ow ow that part of me is sensitive.

"As I was saying, just this once. Now. How do you want to deliver the cake? We can cake the long way up the rest of the food-"

"There's more food?"

"Yay! Food! Is there bacon?! There should be lots of meat-ack!"

Ear tug, ow! This is so not necessary Georgie!

"...We can take your cake up with normal way....or...just this once, you can sit in and use the delivery lift."

"But we alread-mmmppffff mpff" I take a hand to muffle Lukas, preventing anymore ear pulling. Besides, it's just plain stupid to be giving out how many times we use the dumbwaiter to sneak in or out.

"That one Georgie, we'll take the food lift up and it can be a surprise!"  I reply, sincere despite the young miss smile I have plastered on. My ear is still ringing ok?

Georgie makes to threateningly pull at the ears despite everything but stops himself in a fake at the last moment. His hands, rough over years of work no matter how much lotion, go to pet the side and top of our heads.

It's received with a stunned confusion on my part and pure pleased preening by the silly boy next to me.

"You're good kids you know that?" he says softly, almost fondly.

I gulp.

I will away that strange sensation that refuses to be swallowed down. I hold it in, just like I hold in the sudden wetness in my eyes or the urge to shout back that I'm not.

"I know!" laughs Lukas with delight, his head already nuzzled into that palm.

Somehow at this moment, Georgie's hands feel different than they always have. It makes me mute, worldless as they lift us up and right over to the sliding doors of the food lift. Somehow that giant cake fits in there with the both of us. Before the doors close, Georgie graces us with a tender smile and a pat on the head, instead of his usual nagging. It feels both wrong and right.

"See you upstairs."

The door slides shut, a ding of the manual lift already steadily moving us up. From inside his pocket, Lukas pulls out glowing jar of moss, lighting up the dark space. Maybe because there is no other light, that I realize it's the same color of his eyes.

"This one is mine" he declares, holding it up high, before reaching back in and pulling out a warm firelit one, the light almost gold, tossing it over to my open lap. "And that one, is yours!"

"...."

"Noooooooo need to thank me! I know I'm just that awesome!"

I look down at the moss balls of almost gold, marveling in soft little light. It gives me something to focus on, in the dark of this wait, with this strange feeling in my throat and chest. I want to say it started when Georgie of all people patted us but....I know the unpleasant truth. That this knot of feelings has been in me since I was born, reborn, into this place.

"The dark isn't awesome at all! So Gable helped me make these!" huffs Lukas, his cloudy light moving with him.

"I like them." I finally voice,

"Right?! Amar's is green because I used lots of cool leaves from Gable! But yours is cool too. Before, when I didn't live with Gable or Cap, and it got all dark, I wasn't always awesome. Amar didn't use them before but one day he started sleeping with candles at night. And then the darkness wasn't so bad. Your's looks like candlelight from that time!"

" You're...afraid of the dark?"

"Noooooooooooooo! That's not cool or heroic at all! 'Sides, I can't be scared if I have these!"

He looks straight into his jar, as if that could chase away all the dark surrounding us. Straight into the tiny soft light. Like it actually mattered.

I thump my head to rest against the side of the wall. I don't understand this kid, any of them, at all. Just when I thought I did, something like this happens, and it's all jumbled again. As if enough of me wasn't already mixed up wrong inside.

All I know for certain is that we're really too different.

"That's okay too!"

"...huh?"

"That's we're different! If it was just me, I didn't know how to turn on the lights, if I didn't have everyone's help so far I wouldn't know how to make mine. Amar doesn't tell me a lot of things like I do him, it gets boring. But he liked the light I made him. You too right? You like it?"

"...yeah...I like it a lot."

For once, he stops talking all by himself, too busy grinning at himself, at my answer. As if that much was enough, more than enough. Maybe.

The 6th ding indicates we're on the right floor, the lift settles before light peeks out of the opening door.

"Work hard sidekick!"

"...What?"

"Yell out surprise really loud okay?! We're gonna trick Amar real good!!!"

The door dings and opens, and there's nothing left to do but just that. Even though my voice will probably be drowned against's Lukas, this much doesn't hurt.

"SURPRISE!!!"

"Oh dear! Rosalia?"

"Aaaaaahhhhh!!!!!"

....Mother? Mother! This is the sickbay alright, but where did Amar go? How do you surprise birthday someone without them being here?

"Mother? Did you eat my other henchman?!"

"Oh my? Is that what kids call each other these days?"

"Yaaay! Rosa!"

"Lily!?"

Turning to the source of the noise I not only find my sister but a still very surprised Amar on the floor. Now it could be the sight of the awesome cake, we're rolling out. Or it could be what caused the traumatized and absolutely disheveled appearance of his.

His chocolate curls are sticking up in every direction, worse than any bedhead while his once photo worthy cute outfit was wrinkled all over. When I come to help them up I see Lilyanne has stolen his ribboned hat, for it is plopped right on her head. More than that, why is only one of Amar's pant legs rolled up and damp with drool? Are those little bite marks?

Lilyanne? Mother? Were you seriously trying to eat him?

Amar then makes to hide behind me of all people? As if I could protect him from the bizarre horrors of just what must have occurred in a room alone with my mother and sister. Somewhere Lukas points and laughs, somewhere the doors to the sickbay knock open, food delivery well on its way.

"Suprise? We brought sweets?" I try, a sorry start to this party and an even sadder comfort.

"Birthday cake! Cake cake cake! You gotta look at the cake! We made you a cake! " Lukas comes up, pulling the both of us over with one hand in Amar's.

It's at this moment, that the silent child really takes everything in. From the tiered lemon and caramel cake to what may be something all made and brought for him.

Compared to me the who doesn't know just what to say, Lukas rambles on helpfully about birthdays and the lack of them. About stuff I don't know, wasn't there for in their time as friends and stuff that I unfortunately do. 

Amar's little face, still sweet despite his mussed up state, looks up at the cake in unknown awe. It's another expression I don't know how to decipher on him It's not....not really happiness.

Almost, but it's not. Something unreachable, even if it seems so close. Without even noticing it, I make to take his other free hand. I touch it but from a beat.

Quickly, just as quickly as it all happened, he breaks free to the hand holding his and runs to pick up the chalk slate, scribbling away. Lukas and I follow behind, a little confused at what message could be so important?

'What do you want me to do?' reads the sign.

The little face behind it looks blank, forcibly so, from something I hate to admit I know from experience. Blank to hide something else, something a lot more vulnerably painful.

"Nothing!" yells Lukas, looking a little unsure.

'What do you want?' he scribbles further, uncomfortable in the lack of an answer. The silence isn't long, but at this moment, it stretches. In this moment, I can read another question not spoken nor written.

'What do you want from me?' I read, from somewhere else, painfully still inside of me.

"Just eat." I blurt out, drawing attention from both the boys.

Maybe it's more out of instinct than anything, but I take their hands, pulling them back to the cake I spent way too much time making today.

"Nothing. We don't want anything from you, just eat. Just eat and be happy. Even if it's just a little bit. That's all we want for you."

If anyone noticed the weird atmosphere looming on us kids, they don't make it known. Focusing on setting up things elsewhere. It's just us as I pull the boys up, making Amar face his cake.

He asked for it after all.

"So just eat."

Amar looks a little awkwardly between Lukas and I, that or we're giving off some overly hopeful vibes. But for what?

Like a naughty child, he takes a finger to poke and steal a lick, a bite of the pretty cake. The finger lingers on his lip, taking the time to taste it. When his body trembles, I fear for the worst.

But it's just that this child is brain-damaged. Rather than tears or any of such reactions, he laughs. A strangely mute chuckle and laugh, his finger still to his lip in a universal sign for silence. It's a very cute sort of smile, and wonderful expression. At least for him.

"You like it?" 

When he finally stops laughing, Amar looks straight at me, at Lukas, and nods with that light easy smile turned up a few megawatts. It looks a little bit closer to happiness.

 

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