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Language:
English
Series:
Part 14 of Nev's TLT Drabbles
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Published:
2025-08-04
Words:
300
Chapters:
1/1
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7
Kudos:
5
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Eggshells Crunching Carefully Underfoot

Summary:

Silas watches intently from his seat at the table as Colum scatters some mushrooms and peppers into the pan and then carefully folds the egg over itself, enclosing them inside. There is a book open in front of him, ignored but for the way his fingers worry at the corner of the page.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

His necromancer scoffs, eyes returning to his book abruptly. “What use have I for cooking? That’s the cavalier’s domain. Would you prefer to be uselessly redundant?”

Colum offers to teach Silas to cook.

Notes:

Once again, thank you for the prompt Coffee XD

Prompt was: cooking.

Work Text:

Silas watches intently from his seat at the table as Colum scatters some mushrooms and peppers into the pan and then carefully folds the egg over itself, enclosing them inside. There is a book open in front of him, ignored but for the way his fingers worry at the corner of the page.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

His necromancer scoffs, eyes returning to his book abruptly. “What use have I for cooking? That’s the cavalier’s domain. Would you prefer to be uselessly redundant?”

Colum shrugs. “You looked interested.”

Silas’ lip curls disdainfully. “Next you’ll be asking to learn the intricacies of siphoning from the necromancer’s perspective,” he mutters under his breath.

Colum muses over his uncle’s prickliness as the omelet finishes cooking. He plates it and places it in front of Silas, who readily moves his book aside to accommodate – a smooth and practiced routine.

“If it doesn’t turn out well, I’ll eat it,” he offers. “You don’t have to.”

Silas gives him a sharp look, but it fades into something almost vulnerable as he looks down at his plate and begins to cut a bite off of his omelette.

“Assuming it’s actually edible,” Colum teases dryly.

Silas scowls – that softer expression gone – and does not even deign to look at Colum for his humor. His fork clacks unpleasantly against his plate, and Colum hides a small smile by turning back to the stove to crack a few more eggs into the still hot pan.

“Perhaps…” his uncle starts after a while, then pauses, then starts again, “perhaps I can try my hand at it some morning when we have little on the agenda.”

Colum’s smile widens. He does not turn around, just gives a short bob of his head and reaches for the plate of vegetables.

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