Posted 22 December 2011 - 07:27 AM
Aella had never made the pilgrimage to Xanth's statue and had only recently wandered upon New Alexandria, so every meal savored, every aroma discovered, every little thing seen or touched
or heard was a fresh experience. She spoke to Xanth every day in her prayers, and did not feel as if she could give anything worthwhile that she had not already given in her day to day affairs, so Xanthmas was much an afterthought. Her time in New Alexandria shortly impressed upon her the majesty of the event, however; when she flitted between every restaurant in the city, spending hard-earned coin on a myriad of delectable desserts shimmering with sugar crystals or gleaming with rich syrups, at each and every place Xanthmas was the topic of conversation. She ended up absorbing all the fervor just as she had absorbed all the fructose: in dangerous quantities.
Aella had grand ideas for what she would make as her gift to Xanth, though she soon realized her forge was inaccessible and most of her gift ideas were thrown out the proverbial window. She racked her brain for days, becoming frantic as the time grew near, when she came across inspiration in the flaky crust of a lemon tart. She impressed upon a young married couple (with much swaying of the hips and misplaced clothes) to let her borrow their kitchen, and she locked herself away with her ingredients (really, the ingredients were theirs, given to her free of charge; perhaps she had overdone it) and set to methodically crazed work. She did not know the recipe of that particular lemon tart that had spurned her interest, but her memory for taste was as clear as the lemon-tangerine-raspberry first dawn of spring. She battled day and night against the staunchest foes; neither capricious flour, nor unruly rollerpin, nor loqacious stomach could hamper her ambition. On the rare occasions that her benefactors chanced upon seeing her, she appeared ghastly, covered thoroughly in an amalgamation of flour and baking powder, cinnamon and allspice, cardamom and star anise. Her visage was such that her visitors seldom lingered fearing some morbid reprisal.
They were surprised then when she came out radiant and beaming and all smiles, her bronze skin a healthy glow, her white linen dress immaculate, a big wrapped package craddled in her diminutive arms. She bounced happily over to them, gave each lingering kisses upon the lips that left them both stunned and blushing and darting furtive glances at each other for approval, then as quick as that she was on her merry way.
As she entered the mysterious ice structure admist the summer in Alexandria where the quadrangle had been, the cooler air currents caressed her bare flesh like an amorous lover. Her skin pricked in response, her little hairs stood on end, and she couldn't help but succumb to a shiver that coursed through her from head to toe. It may have been some magic of this place instead of the cold, for she was well accustomed to it in the Dusky Mountains; either way the effect was beyond her control and she gave in to it wholly. Her bare feet crunched in the snow and led her through ice mazes and copses of deciduous lilac chiolen, her eyes wide saucers basking in the glory of every little thing, of the warmth and majesty and tapestry of light about dancing about her.
The snowball exploded at her right hip, causing her to sway and nearly lose her precious cargo. Aella was startled, but then burst into a fit of uncontrollable mirth, crouching low like a predator with arms wrapped protectively around her gift and warily eyeing the marionetted snowmen summoned into existence at both her sides. She was lightly caked in snow now, grinning mischieviously, the cold exciting her and warming her all at once. With full concentration she managed to jerk to her left, avoiding what would have been a snowball to her chest, only to be hit solidly with one on her rear. She shrieked and grabbed a ball of soft snow in her right hand, bound it up as best she could whilst holding something else, then gave it an earnest throw at the one that got her bum. She managed to score a hit. A spattering of white fluff like a pillowy cloud appeared on the snowman's winter garb, and he seemed to bow to her and accept defeat. She stuck her tongue out and quickly ducked further into the maze to avoid any snowy retort.
Aella wriggled her toes in the snow, letting the sensation permeate her, walking as if in a dream, not fully conscious. She wound up at the feet of the statue, towering over her like a lilac colossus. She had seen it from outside, but standing this close felt intimately personal. She could not take her eyes off of Xanth and for some time gazed up at her, her cheeks warm and reddened, her breath cool and curling in spiralling wisps on its journey to the heavens above.
She struggled for words, feeling warm.
She got on her knees and set her gift infront of her, unwrapping it with maternal care. Within was a plate like any other, though perhaps whiter than average, cleaner than average, and with a sense of simplicity that spoke volumes. In the center of the dish was a solitary lemon tart.
Its crust was rounded, shaped as a small bowl, and flaky. It seemed delicate, that the lightest touch would make a mess. The center of the pastry was filled with silky orange-yellow cream, a brilliant sunrise. Crystals of sugar adorned the top, scattered about here and there, shimmering in the Neme-light. A lemon syrup crested the tart, of consistancy a bit more malleable than fresh honey, laid in the pattern of a small butterfly. The pattern was intricately and done with uncharacteristic care. Finely powdered sugar was arranged around the tart atop the dish and looked much like the first semblances of snow, and at even segments along the edge of the plate were a rainbow of fruit glazes, tiny drops, a myriad of baubles on a tree, will of the wisps colored in every palette encircling the treat, a magic circle inscribed in snow and sugar.
Aella looked at it and bit her lip, then turned her gaze to the statue of Xanth, her creator and protector.
She felt the words slow and clumsy, but she uttered them all the same:
"Thank you for this life you have given me. It may not seem like much, but I hope you will enjoy this. I made it for you. It is is my favorite." She paused, then added shyly. "I figured that a Goddess has to eat too..."
Aella pushed herself upright, then stood still for some time. The snow swirled about her like a warm scarf, and every little thing seemed interconnected.
OOC: As for gift ideas, Aella would enjoy some inspiration for a masterpiece, some wisdom or experience or personal token of Xanth, or perhaps a bit of love. She likes things that she can use, but does not find herself bound to material objects as much as others.