Kingdom of Dreams [Fanfiction2]
Cleanse your Pallet
{Do not read if you don’t like Yaoi/Crossdressing or anything like that. Inspired by the wonderful comic by the same name by @trojan-merry-go-round please read their warning if you do not like Yaoi. I do not own Mr. Badger he belongs to Trojan, Mr. Brushwood and his mysterious darling belong to me}
“I must say it’s rather surprising to find such a young member here.” Mr. Badger said as he placed his cup of tea down.
“Everyone apparently is but rest assured Mr. Badger that Mr. Peacock has strict rules in place for me and for the guests I mingle with. I could go through them all but I don’t wish to bore you with such things.” Mr. Brushwood smiled sipping his cup of ice coffee, minding the new outfit he was sporting.
The outfit as he so elegantly called it, ‘Lovely in Nightshade’. Mr. Badger took note of each article of clothing, from the beautiful black riding boots to the long violet skirt, up to the white blouse and lavender vest, topping everything off with a matching lilac sun hat adorned with white roses. The young man was a walking image of a flower blessed with the beauty of the nights twilight hour.
“Does Mr. Peacock allow you to wear that? I only ask since I was supplied a suit when I first arrived.” Asked Mr. Badger setting down his cup, Mr. Brushwood reached taking a few cubes of sugar and cream into his coffee.
“Yes and no, when I arrived here I wore a suit but that was to be expected. I did tell him the clothing I prefer and we made the alteration, it was only a skirt but needless to say I was pleased. Now I simply make the clothing I want to wear, in my private room I can sew any gown I wish for. A few of the other guests even showed some interest in my skills.”
“Really?”
“Yes but mostly to make outfits to suit their fantasy or adventure but none the less it’s quite fun…Mr. Badger if its not to much trouble may I ask you a question?” Mr. Brushwood gently placed his cup down.
“Of course.” Mr. Badger replied placing his cup down.
“Would you…in your own opinion consider culinary an art form?” Mr. Badger perked up at the question.
“Why yes I would consider it an art, anyone that can take raw materials and turn it into something wonderful is not just a skill but a art. Why do you ask?”
Mr. Brushwood looked away for a moment, sighed and leaned back against the soft chair he was in. “I ask because my wonderful suitor has a natural born talent for cooking an also baking, he is trying his hardest to become a patisserie, his sweets are absolutely divine. He can turn anything into the spectacular pastry…but there’s a problem.”
Mr.Badger watched young Brushwoods expression change to a somber light. “His father and mother are highly known for their paintings and sculptures, their works are featured everywhere…when he mentioned his cooking…well…”
Mr. Badger leaned in, his ears hungry for more of this bitter story.
“They were not pleased, they tried to convince him to give up cooking…..even…even going so far as to try and sabotage his attempts of getting into culinary school and become an apprentice to a top chef. Thankfully it didn’t work and my darling has gotten in…but…what got me was what they told him the moment they were caught red handed.” Mr. Brushwood played with his white silk gloves, he almost looked like a child confessing to his father he stole from the cookie jar.
“They said point black to his face, ‘Cooking is nothing but a tool to keep you fed, to call food artwork is purely the imagination of a idiotic child.’ That s what they said…right to his face, it left a bit of an impact but it didn’t stop him from going for what he wanted. Since then his parents have only contacted him to only continue their attempts in trying to disrupt this dream.”
Mr. Brushwood’s hands clenched tightly, as if squeezing his hands would be enough to to hold back the tears stinging at his eyes. Mr. Badger sat back digesting the story, clearly leaving a very horrid taste in his mouth. Given his career in the culinary field something like this clearly did not sit well with him.
“Clearly they are not artists.”
Mr. Brushwood looked up in surprise, Mr. Badger, his arms folded in a disapproving fashion with one leg crossed over the other. “No artist would dare belittle another art form like that, I can understand they wish for their son to follow in their footsteps however to force them to walk in those same footsteps is downright disgusting.”
Mr. Brushwood stared at his companion across the way, the story obviously striking a nerve.
“Food is a precious thing, not only does it keep us alive but it invokes feelings. Sweet, savory, bitter, salty, spicy and mild flavors all mingle together to bring out things within us. Those who prepare it are not just chefs but they are artists in their own right, they take ingredients so basic and turn them into works of wondrous art.” Brushwood leaned forward captured by Mr. Badgers words.
“I know three of these artists personally…each day they prepare the most spectacular confections I’ve ever tasted, with a simple strawberry transform it into something brand new. Mr. Brushwood I assure you with all my heart that your beloved is an artist, an artist in the culinary field.”
Mr. Brushwood stared at Mr. Badger for what felt like an eternity…before turning his head..his hand covering his eyes.
“Mr. Brushwood?” Mr. Badger feared he may have said a bit too much..till Mr. Brushwood turned back to him…with a smile as wide as a crescent moon and his eyes glittered with stars. “You have no idea how happy I am you said that…I’ll be sure to rely that message to him.”
After drying his tears Mr. Brushwood stood up and rushed over to a small bag sitting on a vanity, he mumbled to himself as he began digging. Mr. Badger watched him…rather confused on what he was doing..until he returned with a small pink satin wrapped parcel tied up with a bright blue ribbon. Just one tug on the ribbon and it unraveled, the silk cloth opened and there stood a stack of think, chickadee shaped cookies.
“My darling baked these himself, its his own recipe. Their called “Song bird biscuits” each one having a different flavor then the other, I often bring some to share. Please try one…as a thank you for your sound words.“ Mr. Brushwood smiled taking the first one and taking a bite out of the thin cookie.
Mr. Badger picked one up, observing it a bit before taking a small bite…the biscuit tasted wonderful. It was both airy and dissolved in his mouth with a wonderful mild lemon and mint flavor.
"This is delightful, you say your darling made these himself?” Asked in a little bit of surprise.
“Yes…he came up with the recipe because of a story I told him about when I was little, I was playing out in the woods and discovered a small swimming hole. I spent all day there, swimming and listening to the song birds that frequent those woods. It was perfect that summer day.”
Mr. Badger paused for a moment, he sat and watched his companion happily eat away at the sweet confections. The image of a happy little boy enjoying a well deserved treat, from the confections to the young boy…Mr. Badger then understood. The mild flavors, the delicate texture, the sweet aroma and the refreshing taste.
These sweet biscuits were not biscuits, they were something more. They were song bird shaped mirrors, reflecting the image of a single person. A person who shared the same traits, his smile was sweet, his voice light, his presence ever refreshing…indeed the artist who crafted these cookies had the perfect muse. A lover who would inspire more works of art…that reflected true love..and innocence.
End