Breaking Bread

Title: Breaking Bread
Time Period: May 28, 135 A.E.
Characters Appearing:

Summary: The friendly family of three makes good on their promise to sup with the ladies of Pins & Needles.

"Yoo hoo!"

The cheery and familiar voice of Glynis MacRankin comes through the wood of Sorcha's door. They'd made a date to bring the seamstress and her new protege dinner, and such appointments must be kept, after all. "Just call if you're setting, don't bother to get up and let us in!"

She may have invited herself to Mrs. Ferrier's home for dinner, but she's not going to barge in without Sorcha's blessing.

The two men flank her, the younger one looking fresh-washed and a bit red from the scrubbing. Both have arms full of baskets covered with clean muslin. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat is a tempting one, and Ben is chewing something that suggests the dinner didn't make it over completely intact.

It's Mariah that swings the door open, given that she's better on her feet than Sorcha is just yet. Plus, she's had plenty of coffee today in an attempt to not sleep the daylight hours away, so it really isn't hard to get her up and over to the door.

"Well, isn't it a delight to see all of you," she says with a smile. Reaching out, she takes one of the baskets before stepping back to usher them all in. "Straight through there, the table's all ready for you."

Sorcha is already up, having spent weeks with the plaster on her leg has made her a bit more skilled in maneuvering around. Healing bone having almost done sealing off means no need to be downing painkillers either. "Mariah, get the door would y-" But her co-worker is far ahead of her. She'd been tending to her mother who had vacated back to her room, not feeling up to dealing with guests beyond Mariah. Hot water boiling for tea, the few bottles of alcohol and cups out should they be preferred.

All in all the upstairs of the building that Pins & Needles is ensconced in is fairly… eclectic. Decorations brought back from far off lands over the last 8 years, make for interesting decor. Colorful. Also, some of it storage for fabric that has no room downstairs. A wooden crate with two small rabbits, freshly weaned and showing signs of wispy fur wait to be taken home by the MacRankins. "Come on in!" She calls from the dining area, smoothing her knee length skirt down and making sure that the place looks presentable. "Come in, come in. I hope your trip was safe?"

The tall brunette pats Mariah's arm and then beams past to Sorch. "Helloooooo, ladies!" she says, voice boisterous as she strides in to the dining room, then glances back at the more awkward men. "Come on, boys, go put the food down, now," she says, flourishing a hand to gesture at the table.

Ben flushes at Mariah's greeting and moves, head down, to follow his mother's orders; Tavish grins broadly. "You as well, Miss Larke, you as well, and Mrs. Ferrier. You are both looking very lovely this evening. How is the seamstress life suiting you?" he asks the former prostitute, while his wife begins to sort out the food.

"Corned beef, colcannon, bread, and some fruitcake. It's not the fanciest type of thing the Owens or Rosses might serve you, but it's hearty and cooked with love, I promise you!" she says. "Well, the bread, I can't promise was cooked with love, I picked that up from the baker and he seemed in a foul mood today, but it tastes all right I'll bet."

"Well enough," Mariah says with a crooked smile as she shuts the door and turns to follow to the table. "Although, I've about bled my fingers dry with pinpricks, but I suppose it comes with the job."

She sets her basket down and directs Ben to where he can put his, trusting the elder to find a spot for his own. "He's always in a foul mood, isn't he? No man has ever been more in need of a p— " she pauses there, catching a near-inappropriate slip before she corrects and continues, "…woman in his life. Aye?"

"I don't think I've ever eaten at the Ross or Owens table and I'm not likely to start now. It smells delicious and a meal made with love is always the best meal if you ask me. Or bread from a grumpy baker" They brought the meal, she's go the drinks and the plates, everything laid out and enough space for all. The head of the table set aside for Tavish, and the rest, at will, first come first serve.

"Yes, much in need of a woman in his life. Or a vacation away from baking bread." Sorcha herself is taking a seat near the end so it's easier to get up to tend her mother if she has to. "It's been nice having Mariah in the shop. SHe's already getting the hang of so much. The rabbits are there, for you to take back with you. Give them a few months and soon enough, you'll be having more rabbits and your own little Angora factory. Just make em a run outside, and pen em in. You'll be good"

Tavish nods as he's shown his seat, and the others settle in as well. Glynis, despite the fact she's not at the head, certainly acts as she is, grabbing for plates with her long reach and scooping up the goods.

"Thank you so much. I just love angora, and it'll be good for Ben to tend the rabbits. He's very good with animals, you know. Aren't you Ben?" Glynis says, perhaps to distract the teen who is watching Mariah from hooded eyes.

"A good woman or perhaps a nice warm fuzzy cat, indeed," says Tavish as he reaches for the hands of those next to him — Mariah, it turns out, and his wife's. "Let us give thanks for good friends and good food."

"She's being too nice," Mariah says, as far as her work performance, "but I am keen, at least." She takes a seat, too, smiling Tavish's way as he chimes in. Smile becomes a laugh at his addition, amused, "Yes. Or a cat."

That he takes her hand a moment later is a bit jarring, but she seems less puzzled when he takes his wife's as well. Praying, that's a new experience. She follow Tavish's lead enough to reach over to take Ben's hand, but she looks over the table at Sorcha, perhaps looking to her for a clue on what to do from there.

Sorcha has not a clue in the world. Not raised to the likes of magic, neither was she raised religious and while she slides her hand into Ben's and Glynis, she waits to follow suit after exchanging the look with mariah as if to say 'who knows' before bowing her head and watching from underneath her eyelashes.

Glynis likewise turns downcast eyes to angle toward her husband, a brow arching slightly, and that might be noticed by the curious Sorcha. "Ben, go ahead and lead, dearheart," she says.

"Me!" squeaks the barely post-pubescent teen, and then there's a dull thud under the table and a grunt from the boy. "Right, then. Um. Thank you, um, God, for this hearty meal, cooked by my ma but given to us by, um, you. Please look over us and keep us safe from illness and, um, trolls and dragons and things like that. Amen."

It's not the most eloquent of graces, but there's a point to be said for being straightforward.

"Amen," echo his parents, and hands are dropped. "Let's eat, then!" Tavish proclaims, clapping his hands together.

Despite his mother probably disapproving, Mariah gives the boy an encouraging squeeze at his surprise. And squeak. But she doesn't duck her head or close her eyes as he speaks, but rather turns back to Sorcha. This isn't her upbringing, either. But at least the God bit makes it more clear.

And at the end, she lets go of both the other hands, but doesn't echo the amen. It'd be a bit dishonest, really. For her. "I thought you'd never say so," she says in Tavish's direction, and she takes a moment to pour him something to drink. Something a bit alcoholic, as it turns out. She pours her own, too, before passing it over to Sorcha. Ben's left out of this one, even if he might be old enough by some standards. Not hers, apparently.

Sorcha's going to pass on the booze tonight, opting for tea. She can have a drink later once everyones gone off and she's alone. No Amens will be forthcoming either for much the same reason as Mariah. She hopes, that it's not uncomfortable for the family that she doesn't and at the exclamation of permission to eat, Sorcha's starting to pass around the food after taking a bit for herself. Tavish can cut the corned beef if it's not already done.

"you don't hear that much anymore. I think, that maybe I could count on one hand, people I've met that still pray like such"

Tavish chuckles, reaching for the alcohol to pour into his and Glynis' glass. "Well, we aren't real religious, as you well know, but you know, special occasions sometimes call for special traditions, aye? Once in a while it's good to just put in a good word of thanks, I think, just in case. After all, we can't prove he's there, but it doesn't mean he's not. The people in our past used to think magic wasn't real neither."

It's a basic theology and a practical one, hard to argue with, and not at all pedantic. Ben eats as if he hasn't had enough in days, but such is the way of boys.

"You've a lovely home," Glynis says, to change the subject. "Does your husband bring you any treasures from his travels? I would make mine bring me something every time he left me." A fond pat is given to Tavish.

"I've never seen a bible," Mariah notes, her knowledge of the text and its tenets rather limited, "But I have heard it's inspiring." It seems to be a compliment, complete with warm smile as she looks between the family members. "And that's a decent point. Seems mankind is never quite getting the whole picture, aye?"

There's a bit of a blink at the change in subject, and she at least has the grace to look sheepish. It isn't usual for her, having guard rails on conversation. So she falls silent to let Sorcha have a go at it, opting to start on her meal instead.

"Usually yes. As much as he can stow in his bunk or the corner of a ship and not get in trouble. He brought me home a pair of llama's one time. The canaries in the shop and those rabbits. Fabric. But sometimes, he finds little things" She gestures to the teapot. "Asia. He brought me back some beautiful silks too. I have some left still, there's not much call for them. It sometimes makes the longtime away from me, tolerable. But thank you. When my mother can get up out of her bed, she takes great pride in helping keep it neat. I'm sure he'll bring back something just as interesting when he gets back. Where do you go Tavish? Does Ben go with you?"

"Oh, I don't go anywhere. I'm just a modest farmer. She's never been away from me more than a night in these past sixteen years," Tavish says, pouring back a glassful. "And that musta been a mighty tight squeeze in his bunk, him and a brace of llamas!"

The man seems to find the image hilarious as he laughs merrily. It's hard not to laugh too — even when his jokes are simply not that funny.

The meal passes like this — comfortable and casual, friendly and warm. Supper becomes dessert, dessert becomes more cups of tea or glasses of wine.

Finally, the family bids the two women goodnight, laughing merrily at the last of the jokes and stories as they climb onto their wagon, loading the rabbits in their cages, and the hooves on the road outside grow more distant as they disappear into the night.