cinnamon

The day dawns pale and clear on this quiet morning. A few birds are chirping on tree branches but most seem to still be out for the count, the air is so calm. In one particular apartment however, there already are pots and pans out on the counter they are fresh from just a few moments or so ago when the young man using them woke up and remembered that he had planned on preparing a special sort of dessert for his family and friends.

Mira when working the kitchen, unlike his brother Agni, prefers to make sure he has all ingredients for his recipe before he gets started. He brings everything out on the counter with the spoons and cups he will need to prepare, to the best of his ability, the best dessert ever (to him, in any case, it will be).

Once the counter is nearly covered with ingredients, more than he thought he might need, he goes over his list once more and frowns as he realizes he’s missing one key ingredient. He looks through the cupboards, being as quiet as he can be though he knows that his brother sleeps very deeply. Zora, on the other hand, does not sleep quite so deeply, he doesn’t want to wake her.

The one ingredient still missing for his recipe he cannot find after a thorough search of the kitchen. He looks down the hall to the bedrooms and weighs his choices. He could wake his sister to ask her if they had any but she might not appreciate it. She had come home rather late the night before.

His gaze turns to his brother’s room and starts down that way. He would grumble just the same but it was easier to deal with his brother’s sleepy grumbling than it was his sister’s. He knows it’s too early to head out and buy that ingredient, else he would have left a note and gone on his way. Such a simple ingredient but he knows it is a necessity for the recipe.

“Agni, where’s the cinnamon?” He tries to keep his voice soft though he’s closed the bedroom door. He shakes his brother’s shoulder lightly to try to rouse him. Unlike Zora, Mira knows that Agni is just being lazy. They both did nothing more than laze about the day before and his early waking hour could very well have been his brother’s own.

Agni swats at him lightly, muttering softly under his breath as he rolls over to his other side.

“Agni, I need cinnamon to get my recipe going, you’re the last one who touched it at all, I recall you had a stick last night.” He doesn’t know whether or not his brother just chews away at the stuff or not. He personally only likes it in recipe, the taste of it on its own lacks a certain something, he doesn’t know for sure and usually doesn’t really worry much about. If Agni likes the stuff then it was all good for him, so long as he left some in the house when it was time to use it for recipe.

“Agni!” He shakes his brother a little harder with a grumble and the young fire-using demon blinks himself to awareness, he rolls over to face his brother and merely pouts at him as he rubs his eyes. “What?”

Rolling his eyes at his brother, Mira straightens and crosses his arms. He didn’t feel guilty for waking his sibling up, not at all.

“I need cinnamon, where did you put it when you were done last night?” He has a hard time understand why some people didn’t put things back where they first found them, when they were done with it. There wasn’t much he could do about it.

Sleepily, Agni stares at his brother, still trying to wrap his mind around what he was being asked. When it clicks in his mind he snorts and rolls back over. “Ate it.”

“You ate it?”

He only gets a grunt in answer and his confusion settles a little more into him. “There was a whole stick, Agni. All I needed was a little bit, I was going to grate it. Now you’re telling me we’re all out?”

“I ate it.”

Looking at the almost mess on the counter, Mira sighs as he begins to slowly put it away. He knows the recipe well enough to know that without cinnamon the taste will be absolutely different and it will not be the best dessert in the world.

With another sigh, he puts away the pots and pans once he’s done with the ingredients. He runs a clean cloth over his work surface, even if he hasn’t used it and heads back to his room.

Too wide awake for sleep now, he wonders what he should be doing with himself. Reading isn’t interesting at this point and if he heads out he has no idea what he might do outside. Plus it still is quiet and too early for it to really be safe to wander alone though he wishes he could.

Instead of going outside through the front door, he dresses in more than just his pyjama pants and then leaves a single word on a piece of paper on his door. ‘Roof.’

He quietly steps out from his room, then down the hallway to the stairs leading to the top. From there he slips down the edge of the hallway to the last little staircase that leads to the roof. The door is locked but the key is kept on a hook next to it. He figures they only keep it locked for the weather, in case someone might forget to close it properly. He’s seen it happen in places they had slept at, before. The door banging and slamming in the middle of the night because the wind wanted it for itself and because someone hadn’t closed it properly.

Those memories aren’t exactly pleasant.

He steps out onto the roof and shivers slightly at the breeze that welcomes him. The day is still so quiet and peaceful, it is almost his favourite time of the day. He walks to the fenced edge, moving to sit on one of the lounging chairs settled there. Most of the chairs are under the protection of the solarium, near the pool but a couple are out where it is comfortable to be in the sun. He settles back and closes his eyes, letting the slightly mist-covered sun begin to warm his skin. It feels nice and for a while he knows he can forget about the cinnamon, how his brother gobbled it all up and how it doesn’t really matter.

When they buy more, he’ll just hide some away so he can get his recipe done the way he really wants to.

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