Have a meal (Mikhail/ Tomb)

[silvaah]

"Ouch. Dammit." Tomb cursed to himself quietly, paw snapping back to his chest. His ladel sunk into the hearty stew, the metal ending sinking below the dark brown soup. The small spot of the broth that had splashed onto his arm was rubbed away quickly, though there was a small burn mark left on his flesh. 'Oh well that's...excellent.' Tomb hissed within him, rolling his eyes. He still had a wooden ladel to stir the mixture with, but it was worn. And had this horrible way of warming in his hand if it stayed in the pot too long. Patting the dirty apron tied across his waist, the lightly gray toned tom moved from his fire, choosing to attend to his burn. There were always a roll of bandages underneath his chopping table, as he was prone to slicing his claws and paw pads with his knives. Pulling it out, Tomb wrapped his injury with the bandaging, cutting it roughly with his teeth. 'Hm..maybe I should put the pot back on. That smell is potent enough to tilt a flower.' Taking a few steps toward the pot, Tomb had a small moment of confusion. 'Did I put onions in it?' Looking back at his relatively clean cutting board, it didn't look like he had. Cursing his forgetfulness, the cook moved back to the wooden table, pulling out a knife from his apron. A basket of onions was soon pulled out, and the tom started peeling the outer layers, throwing away the dried pieces.

[Muddy]

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[atrb=background,http://img31.imageshack.us/img31/316/forummuddymid.png] The brooding tom walked down the streets, blade lifted over his massive shoulders, cloak draped over his body like shadows. Mikhail had been up for what seemed like a very long time... His muscles ached tiredly from training with his shade, prepping them for whatever might come. A delightful scent drifted through the air and past his nose, a warm meal was being cooked. His stomach growled at the thought of a home cooked meal. It had been some time since he had actually sat down for a sweet meal, cooked by another. He would work so many nights and days, sitting down seemed like a trivial citizen activity to him, he would eat on the go as he patrolled the nights with his league of shades. Part of him wished he had that laid back life, one where death and crime did not swim about around him, where he would have a family, a mate, a life... He shook his head. He made his life choice. This was his life as it should be.