Esmeralda's Point of View
And so we commenced preparing our ingredients, tools, and equipment here and there. I was quite surprised that even though they have some of the most high-tech inventions of advanced inventors in the world, Amabel's kitchenette has more traditional cooking tools rather than machines. Perhaps Amabel herself proclaimed it to be so that she can have some entertainment in cooking sometimes. Besides that, what surprised me more is how Lucretius possessed completely void knowledge about cooking. And as I and Amabel talk about how we will design the cake structure, he is just standing beside us, with a blank-curious expression.
I was about to remark his ignorance but Amabel was quick to beat me.
"Sweetheart, why don't you wake up from your trance and get us more of the eggs." She ordered with an endearing smile.
Lucretius merely nods before idly going to where he thought the eggs were. Which is clearly to the sink. This made me and Amavel faintly chuckle.
"Oh sweetheart, the eggs are right there." Amabel corrected as she point to the refrigerator.
Lucretius opened faintly his mouth then closed. As if indicating that he is getting pissed. Although, his expression still resembles that of someone who is daydreaming but is still able to follow orders from reality.
When his back faced us, I neared Amabel and whispered, "It seems surviving with an empty stomach is harder for him than with an empty heart."
She seems taken aback by my jeering but I am glad she took it more on the positive side. Hence, she laughed and responded, "Well, it appears the kitchen is his Waterloo."
With that, we continued laughing until he came and inserted the eggs between our faces. "You are here to cook instead of chattering gibberish." He ironically remarked.
I glared at him for such a rude usage of words but Amabel merely pat his shoulder. "Oh sweetheart, don't be too rushed. Come," then she took his robotic hands. I said robotic since currently, he looks like a five-year-old child being taught to change his clothes for the first time. The only difference now is that he has a blank expression and mute resistance, while the five-year-old doesn't. "Beat all of these eggs then separate the egg whites from the yolk. Put all yolks here, afterward mixed them."
Again, Lucretius merely nods and went on to beat the eggs, while Amabel organized something in the oven. I, on the other side, volunteered to carve some designs shapes-especially small trees and flowers, for the garnish of the cake. Since the theme of her birthday is nature. Wilderness to be precise. Which I think is quite a match with the dark chocolate-flavored cake we are to make, since the wilderness is also known for its melancholic black and a little white, monochromatic, atmosphere. Amabel has some shapers but they are only basic geometric shapes that's why I decided to just carve them manually. Furthermore, she praised my carvings to be more beautiful and realistic than the ones being formed through the shapers. Although I felt quite embarrassed by her that praise because I know that my skills don't even take any step to my mother's, I just shrugged it off and continued creating my regular masterpieces.
*CRACK!* I heard something crack beside me, along with Lucretius' grumbling which caused my attention to be caught.
"Oh, my goodness,"
"Oh, my sweetheart!"
Almost both me and Amabel astoundingly stated simultaneously. For this reason, it is because an egg was cracked on the floor.
"I apologize." Lucretius faintly whispered which prompted my eyes to grow wider.
"What? What did you say?" I subconsciously quizzed. Completely forgetting who I am talking to. But that's nothing since even Amabel grinned behind him.
But as I expected, he didn't bother repeating what he had said. Clearly not caring whether we heard it or not. Although we were quite satisfied because he bent down and cleared his own mess. Causing us, Amabel and I, to return to our own works. Soon, we all went on cooking the very cake. We began with the first layer to the fifth. Since Amabel instructed it to be regular yet remarkable. Next to that, we then put them all together. Layering from biggest to smallest. It was supposed to be an easy task but since we have our big idiot Lucretius, one of the baked cake layers was ruined. He ACCIDENTALLY smashed it to be precise. Fortunately, at last, we were able to create something that could be called a regular cake. Garnished with chocolate trees and flowers at the edges, and at the top, I took my time to place the hardest and probably most presentable carving-for me at least, that I did in more than an hour. Which is dark, of course, since it was made out of chocolate, a round Christmas tree. To be honest, I didn't have any idea as to where to put my sculptures, but 'unfortunately ', Lucretius suggested the concept of putting the small flowers and trees around while the biggest of them, the Christmas tree, should be at the top. Amabel cheerfully supported this. So after following that idea and seeing how presentable it turned out, I just mentally praised them, recognizing how that only proved how gifted their lineage is in art of design.
"Now we have our free separated layer here for us, come and join me. Let's have a taste of our own masterpiece!" Amabel clamored cheerfully. Halting both of me and Lucretius on admiring the cake.
"Of course! " I responded while ushering Lucretius beside me. "Let's go."
She was sitting at the short yet long stall near the window so we stepped there and joined her sit, as she sliced the sample cake endearingly.
Seeing that we all took a slice, I halted them.
"Let's take some pictures first," I added as I bring out my phone.
Amabel gladly supported the idea while Lucretius merely followed my order to stop. Hence, I was able to take a selfie of us thrice. And as usual, two of us have wide smiles while one has merely a blank and frozen facade.
"Oh sweethearts, this is perfect! Our guests will feel they are in paradise with just a bite of this!" Amabel glorified loudly while munching.
I swallowed quickly then added. "True, it is indeed dainty. Not too sweet and stiff, but fluffy and delicately palatable."
Amabel nodded agreeably to me before turning to Lucretius. Who, apparently, cannot be mellowed by any kind of food, either delicate nor tough.
"What about you sweetheart, what can you say about OUR chef-d'oeuvre?" She quizzed while stressing the word 'our' to indicate, perhaps, that he needs to comment on it positively because he also created it.
"Good" he muttered. "Thorough and sophisticated." He plainly added, before shoving the last piece of slice he has.
Although he plainly praised the taste, I wasn't thwarted from smiling, as well as Amabel from cheerfully commenting that he is right.
Soon after tasting our cake, we placed the created one in a large black box, designed with a silk red ribbon and imprinted with a beautiful calligraphy of Amabel's full name.
Of course, when we were done, it was already midnight. Meaning, we all went to bed after such a lengthy yet pleasuring work.