[Sariel isn't childish, nor is he even really childlike--but there's something off about him, nevertheless. He's like a book filled with largely blank pages. He cuts the orange precisely, and with no trouble, but his sense of why he's doing it or what it could be for seems sparse. An inchoate existence.
Adra wants to hover, to watch him, but the man really does know his way around a knife. So he'll leave Sariel to it, and carry out with other tasks just beside him--cutting up other fruit, mixing eggs and flour and sugar into a bowl, this and that. Pretty soon the kitchen is alive with fresh scents and the low hum of a warming oven. It's a good, comforting scene.]
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[Sariel isn't childish, nor is he even really childlike--but there's something off about him, nevertheless. He's like a book filled with largely blank pages. He cuts the orange precisely, and with no trouble, but his sense of why he's doing it or what it could be for seems sparse. An inchoate existence.
Adra wants to hover, to watch him, but the man really does know his way around a knife. So he'll leave Sariel to it, and carry out with other tasks just beside him--cutting up other fruit, mixing eggs and flour and sugar into a bowl, this and that. Pretty soon the kitchen is alive with fresh scents and the low hum of a warming oven. It's a good, comforting scene.]
Thanks for your help.