Make Yourself at Home [Vas/Katelyn/Indie]

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Vasco Izar

Beef simmered in the copper pan on the stove on top of a blue gas flame. I sprinkled another pinch of salt in and pushed the meat back and forth through the oil, breaking it into pieces with a spoon. Yani pressed in front of me despite my protest and stood atop a footstool to get a better glimpse. Together we lifted the pot and scooped the meat into a bowl to separate it, all the while Yani huffing to blow at the steam. I set the pot back down and started on the peppers and onions, turning them over in the oil until they started to wither. Next came a handful of spices (paprika, cayenne, oregano, and cumin) scattered across the pan to simmer. Scraping my wooden spoon across the pan, I waved my hand toward my face to take in the earthy flavor.

The lockdown had been on for almost a week, and somehow, I’d grasped onto a strand of calm through the mundane. Even though I’d spent hours late into the evening going over the damage to the silos, or the reports of peacekeeper abuse in edges of the district, I’d been reminded to reserve time for what could keep me grounded through it all. Cooking dinner with Yani ensured that I’d always be home before curfew, and better still, let us do something together.

We spent the first part of the afternoon prepping dough together. She’d gotten flour all over her apron and complained about how hard it was to stir the butter and water together. Not that it kept her from turning the mixture into a sticky dough the served well enough to hold the meat I’d been cooking. Her only request was to leave out the raisins this time, a fact I only obliged because it’d been my preference (and Gero’s, if memory served, but we might have been the only ones that liked them that way).

By the time we put all of it into the oven, the clock over the back door read six-thirty.

No Me Platiques played out from the record player while I started on the dishes, already weary of the pile we’d created getting dinner ready. Yani sprawled across the tile floor with her horses, little wooden figurines she’d been gifted (or handed down – it was hard to keep track who gave what to her sometimes). I hummed along, now and again singing along, which always drew a side-eye from my daughter. She’d never say how poorly I sang, and probably thought it’d hurt my feelings if she did, but someday she’d join the rest of the family in comparing my singing to the death of a cat.

The timer atop the stove ticked along, and I opened a window to let in a cool summer breeze.

Emmanuel and Sophía had both determined it better not to come home for the duration of the lockdown, both stating they wanted to give me space as I worked. They were kind enough to spare me the reason that they didn’t want to live with their father as though they were teenagers again. Kids, eh?

But there was always a silver lining through all of it. That meant there was still room for two more to join us, at least for dinner and then maybe longer, if they’d felt like it. And as things got worse with the fires, I couldn’t not each out to those that I thought might’ve wanted a bit more company. Totally unselfish reasons on my part – not that I was bouncing on my heels at the thought of playing cards or talking about their star charts – I just wanted to give my friends a space they might’ve felt a bit more comfortable during such uncertain times.

When there was a rap at the door, I’d just opened the oven door for the third time, watching the breading brown.

“Un momento!” I called out, sliding the oven closed and dusting off the front of my shirt. I probably could've prepared a bit more for guests but formality had lost its way after the third day of the lockdown. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Who’s there?”

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

You can't run when you're holding suitcases
It's a new day throw away your mistakes and open up your heart
Lay down your guard, you don't have to be afraid

It was rare, extremely rare for Katelyn not to find herself in a kitchen during dinnertime. She’d been planning to try a new recipe; A Capitol standard, but she couldn’t deny it’s deliciousness. Pizza was on another level entirely, and while she didn’t have a brick oven, she was confident she could come close to it. She had her spices ready; red pepper flakes, garlic salt and a bit of basil that she’d been growing. But the pizza dough sat in her fridge, next to the jar of tomato sauce and the fresh mozzarella. She’d deal with it another day.

And if it turned out well, she’d think about adding it to the menu when things reopened. Perhaps converting her little bakery into a bakery/diner. She paused in her musings as she wrapped the pumpkin pie she’d made and glanced at the fridge. She could see it already. Pancakes, waffles and crepes. A breakfast menu and a lunch special. She’d have to hire a chef and a line cook or two to keep herself from getting overwhelmed, but there was no shortage of people that could cook delicious meals in eleven. Food was their livelihood, and people often had to get inventive.

Katelyn finished boxing up the pie and left her house, locking the door behind her. Tonight she was having dinner at the mayor’s. A chance to get to know Vasco’s family better. It warmed her heart. Friends like Vasco kept her grounded, and she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d just let her hair down and relaxed. At strange as it was not to be cooking dinner, she thought perhaps it was just what she needed before the quell arrived and whisked her away. The streets were quiet and bare, but that was to be expected.

It was not yet curfew, but it was approaching, and the mood in the district had felt fairly tense since the silo fires had started. There was a lot that was up in the air, and the Capitol wasn’t talking. The world was quiet and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. The calm before the storm? She hoped not. But she’d been a victor long enough to feel the tension in the air. Whatever it was that was going on wasn’t over yet.

When she found the door, she rapped it a few times, until she heard Vasco call out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Who’s there?”

“It’s Katelyn!” she said back. Maybe one of his windows was open, because she could hear music coming from the house too. Faint, but there. “Buenos noches, Vasco! I brought my appetite!” she called out, hoping she hadn’t butchered the pronunciation. She knew a few words here and there, it was impossible not to pick up some, with all the time she spent around the Izars, but still.

[goat]

indie costar

Indiana can't stop thinking about the fact that she's technically breaking the law. Okay, so it's not like, a real law or anything, but it just feels like nobody should be outside. There's something weird going on, and nobody knows what to do. Her mother wouldn't let her outside to watch the silos burn— something about breathing in the air being dangerous— as if she ever cared about her daughter's wellbeing. Indie had cracked open her window and let herself feel the heat anyway.

It felt scary. Dangerous. Like something was about to change, and nobody knew what would happen afterwards.

Her mother had tried to keep her from going to work, but Indie wouldn't listen. Her voice had shaken like never before, but she stood up for herself, refusing to let her mother take the one thing that kept her away from the house. Barely anybody was coming by the bakery these days, but she didn't mind it. She still had the chimes of the cash register, the warm smell of pastries, the squeak of her shoes on the clean tile floors.

She'd been in the bakery when Vasco had invited her to dinner. She had no idea why he'd invite her, of all people. The fact that Katelyn was going to be there too had her nervous. Katelyn was her boss, sure, but they'd never really interacted outside of that context. She didn't want to look like a total loser in front of her. Knowing the way she tended to ramble, or speak about weird metaphysical concepts, there was a high possibility that she would.

The streets are near empty. Indie walks as fast as she can, but not too fast, so she doesn't look suspicious. She realizes that she maybe should have brought something, like some cookies, or tea, and now she feels stupid, but it's too late to go back. She already had to lie to her mother and tell her it was a work related outing. She shuffles on, as the scenery of the District turns into the Izar homestead and Vasco's house appears in the distance.

There's someone already waiting by the door and it's, oh god, it's Katelyn. Indie tenses and sucks in a deep breath. "OhmygodI— Hi, are we— are we early?" she asks.

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Vasco Izar

Yani let her toy horse clatter to the ground as soon as she heard Katelyn’s voice on the other side of the door. She heaved herself up from the floor by pressing both hands against the hardwood, and took off in a huff, practically knocking me out of the way so she could be the first to greet our guest. I watched her stare up at the two women in front of her, and looking at the way she saw them, I thought that if I had the chance, maybe I could get her time in the bakery. Another moment passed between us, and Yani said nothing, instead opting to put her hands behind her back and glance down toward the floor.

“I think she means to say,” I put a hand on Yani’s back, “Buenas Noches, Katelyn y Indie.”

Time with someone like Katelyn would be good for a girl Yani’s age. Get her out of the house and give her time with someone who’s last name wasn’t hyphenated next to ours or having to think about how I might’ve been standing over her shoulder. Young girls needed a chance to discover themselves. I’d been late to learn the fact that as much as I might have been able to teach her, some things she was going to have to find out on her own (not that I wouldn’t be right there, behind her, ready if she called).

I leaned forward to give a kiss at Katelyn’s right cheek, and then Indie’s.

“Venga!” I turned back to the kitchen with a wave and motioned to the seats at the table before turning back to the oven. “You’re right on time my friends, dinner’s just about ready. Yani and I spent yesterday and today getting ready for you all, you know, to get our minds off of things.” I shoved my hand into an oven mitten and pulled the tray of empanadas out to set on top of the stove. I took in a breath of the flaky, buttery goodness with a grin. Emma was going to have to let out my pants if I kept eating this way during the lockdown.

“There’s a salad to start, fresh greens and tomatoes and onions, with some lemon juice and olive oil and salt,” I tasted a forkful before sprinkling a dash more salt, “With some beef and potato empanadas – and for my vegetarian friend,” I looked back over my shoulder to Indie, “Spinach and mushroom.”

I wiped my hands across my shirt and turned back to face them both. I let out a sigh and took another deep breath. I counted to ten in my head before letting go again. 

“Drinks? There's some beer under the steps I could grab that should be cold. Oh! I've got some of Druso's moonshine, it's got blueberries in it!” I search in one of the cupboards for the jar of spirits as the music still hums out another slow tune. Days had gotten longer since the victory tour, and for once, I didn’t mind all the extra hours that evening. This was a little blessing, a memory to keep close for when things would get dark again. “You know Katelyn, Indie knows how to read the stars. Told me I was a, uh, corn? Cup of corn? Anyway, she can guess all sorts of things about you just by knowing when you were born.”

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

You can't run when you're holding suitcases
It's a new day throw away your mistakes and open up your heart
Lay down your guard, you don't have to be afraid

“Seems like it,” she replied to Indie with a warm smile. The girl seemed a little nervous, which immediately made Katelyn want to make her comfortable. She remembered being that age, and feeling unsure of herself around people, especially at social events. Truth be told, Katelyn felt a little stiff herself. “It’s nice to get out every once in a while, isn’t it? I like what you’ve done with your hair.” The door opened before Katelyn could say anything further, but it wasn’t Vasco. Just little Yani.

“Hello, Yani!” Katelyn said, smiling down at her. Yani opted not to respond and stared at the ground instead. Vasco was close behind though, and he answered for her. “It’s good to see you,” she said as he planted a friendly peck on both her and Indie. “I brought a pumpkin pie!” she beamed, holding it aloft before she set it down on the counter. She would have felt rude if she hadn’t contributed in some way. Vasco started listing all of the things they were going to be eating as he pulled the empanada’s out and Katelyn inhaled appreciatively. Buttery. Was that cumin and oregano she detected with the black pepper?

Delicious.

"It smells wonderful, Vasco."

And a fresh salad was always a welcome starter. He offered beer or moonshine with a grin and Katelyn was reluctant to turn him down lest it dampen his mood, but she did. “If you have any iced tea or lemonade, I’d love to have some.” She replied carefully as she took a seat. She never touched a drop as not being in full control of herself, for any reason was the only thing she feared. But this was the most animated she’d ever seen Vasco. The excitement pouring off of him in waves, the mischievous glint in his eyes. It was nice to be able to relax with people like this.

It was rare that she ever did. Generally when she went to parties they were a bit bigger and she wasn't able to be herself. It was actually sort of strange, there not being sponsors to sweet talk; for there to be no need for her to carry herself like a proper victor.

And he plowed ahead, talking up Indie and her ability to read the stars.

“Oh, is that so?” she asked, taking a seat. Horoscopes and the like had long been all the rage in the Capitol, so she supposed it was to be expected that some people in the districts knew a decent amount about them. Her birthday was on the twenty-eighth of December, so she knew she was a Capricorn. Not because she’d delved into it too deeply, but because it was one of the things people liked to know about victors, along with their heights, their dating life and their favorite brands to wear.

She supposed that despite the absolute hackjob Vascso had made of the word, that was what he had meant as well. Their birthdays were relatively close after all; she’d had a cake delivered to his house the previous year. “Is that your hobby Indie? I know we haven’t talked about much other than baking, but I’d like to hear about it. I’m a Capricorn. What does that say about me?”

It was the perfect ice-breaker really. Vasco knew what he was doing and he did it well. Now if she could just make it to the end of dinner without bringing the games into the conversation, she'd be set.