OPEN THREADING POST

[tricksterblood]

Open Treading

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[sinne]

By the time Hel arrives for kitchen duty, the state of the kitchen is, well, worrisome. There's a boiling pot of something that looks like a rabid creature frothing in the mouth, a stack of dishes that's barely resisting the forces of gravity, and Hodr cutting something up while holding the knife the wrong way.

Sighing softly, she grabs an apron from the overhead cabinet Garm keeps them in and puts it on, then rushes in to help, dealing with the most life-threatening thing first and working her way down.

She catches Hodr's hand, the one awkwardly clutching the knife. "You're going to end up cutting yourself with that." She takes hold of the other, so she can guide his hands in demonstration. "Away, not toward you."

The moment is short-lived, however, because she hears that dangerously bubbling sound and she abandons her post by his side to turn off the cooker. Then she restacks the dishes into smaller piles; she'd wash them now, but there seem to be far more pressing matters.

"What are you trying to cook?"