Racheria nods and walks around White to look inside the fridge, noting that almost everything found within the forest is stored in telling drawers while produced food took up the flat racks inside. Bumping his left arm out of her way, she eyes the larger eggs in a drawer at about hip height for her 5' 4" frame as a rumble follows from her stomach.

"So what kind of eggs are these exactly? They are obviously too large for chicken."

She asks, crouching down and opening the bin firmly where a small wood box holds them steady while she studies them closely.

White looks at her with a raised eyebrow, then crouches down and peers at the eggs and chuckles softly, the sound echoing out like distant thunder.

"Eagle. An absolute bitch to get as well."

He replies with a flawless straight face.

"Bullshit."

She comments then turns her head to look at him.

"I thought you said that poaching is something you don't like doing unless it's a last resort for survival..... You're fucking with me aren't you?"

She finishes with a slight snarl.

-----------------------------

'She fell for it. Again. Like teasing a kid.'

White thinks as she glares at him with those dark, blood red eyes, then smirks and chuckles deeply.

"Damn right I am. I like watching the eagles around here grow and fly, not be fried. They give meaning to Freedom." He quips, shaking his head at her. "Those are only turkey eggs. A lot healthier than damn chicken eggs, but plenty hard to find if the turkey population is down or stressed. Been doing alright recently though."

He snorts softly then stands to full height, turning and walking left of Racheria to the stove as she continues staring at the eggs.

"I'm figuring that you want eggs for this meal considering your interest in them, so pick out about five for us while I get the rest ready." He says, opening up the stowage spot beneath the left-hand counter.

He pulls out a medium sized flat pan and sets it on one of four hotpoints on the stovetop, tinkering with the control panel and setting the point to a high heat conduction. After a moment he reaches up on top of the fridge and takes down a pair of seasonings then flicks the top open on one, setting both down on the counter.

-----------------------------

Racheria picks out the closest five and slides the drawer shut, rising with the large eggs situated against her crossed arm and chest. She walks smoothly away from the fridge and kicks it closed, then steps to the counter left of White and sets all the eggs gently on top.

"What else do you need?"

She asks, sliding the eggs away from the counter edge. He stretches out one arm and points to a glass slotted cupboard attached left of the microwave.

"Grab me a bowl from in there, please. I'll need something to crack the eggs into."

He replies, turning his head to glance at her with his cold blue eyes that hold a bit of something else in their depths.

She smiles softly and nods, setting the eggs down then stretching her arm to reach for the cupboard as she sniffs slightly, the permeating scent of the seasonings starting to flow around the room. Slipping a finger along the bottom edge, she pries open the cupboard and grabs the first bowl she could, a medium sized glass bowl stacked with six others below it. Lifting it from the stack and retracting her arm back, she yelps as two large paws wrap her hips firmly just as she tips forward a bit. Turning her head, she glares at White then snorts even as the feeling of his paws run little bolts of heat and electricity along her nerves.

"What? Couldn't resist touching me?"

'Though you should try and do it more.'

-----------------------------

'You only wish I couldn't. Prideful bitch with good hips.'

White thinks and sighs as he lowers her gently down to stable footing, then releases her and moves back to the stove.

"No. I'm stopping you from bashing your head into the wall. It would suck to make this food and not have the first visitor have some too."

He replies, dialing in the temperature then reaching over and popping the flip cap from an olive oil container, splashing it into the pan with a noticeable sizzling sound. "Though, it might fix your temper a bit."

White picks up the previously opened seasoning bottle and sprinkles some into the oil, letting the little leaflets drift while they boil in it. He then reaches out and grabs one of the eggs then taps an empty spot on the counter with his other paw, where Racheria sets the bowl down softly. Rolling the egg within his paw, he presses on the surface of the mottled egg in several places then turns and holds it above the bowl horizontally. Flicking the bottom portion with his paw, a crack forms in the surface as he pinches it between his paws and peels upwards, the crack widening as it spills the yolk into the bowl with a splattering sound. Reaching over, he repeats the process again as Racheria watches curiously, leaning against the curved counter with folded arms.

-----------------------------

Racheria gazes as he prepares the meal, discerning how carefully tempered his control is with each movement, each slow expanding and contracting of the muscles just below the fur. How every motion seems to make living art with a simple action, combining the fluid power and lethal calm she's heard about in spirits' passing whispers.

"... So why do you live out here, far away from civilization?"

She asks bluntly, shifting her mental focus from his physique.

White pauses cracking open a third egg then continues to break it open, letting the yolk gather into the bowl with sharper motions.

"...... Mainly, because I see awe within each person's gaze..... And fear."

He says with a thick rumble after a pause, dumping the bowl's contents into the sizzling pan where the first two were being seared over-easy.

"The stories that were spread throughout the insurgent information networks worked both for and against me. Some of them had me slaughtering whole platoons within their hell-hole caverns, then pulling out our targets while dripping blood."

He chuckles softly, a deep rumble that holds no joy but an all swallowing darkness as he shifts the eggs with a spatula he pulled out earlier.

"Eventually, word got out to the civilian population. You can imagine what the reactions were then."

Racheria blinks at the picture that his voice and words create within her head, taking in how he looks now and thinking about what he went through to gain such marks. The battles, the loss of life, all blended into a form damaged by experiences and shunned by the things he fought, no, fights to protect with every living breath.

“Some say I am a monster, something to be slain in cold blood. Others say I am a hero, a knight from a forgotten age.”

He says as he crack open another egg, letting the sound echo out softly as she nods at his words.

“...What do you say you are?”

She asks softly, blinking away the stinging sensation in her eyes.

“…… Something more."

He replies, spreading the last egg into the pan and closing the trash slot on the side of the counter, then turning and walking to the sink on the far right.

Moments later she pushes off the counter and follows him, holding back a moment as he rinses the egg off his paws. Wrapping her arms around his core from behind as he dries his paws with a towel, she presses the side of her cheek against his bare back and nuzzles it softly while he tenses from the contact. She holds him like that and shudders softly as the tears flow continually, letting her emotions balance out through the touch.

-----------------------------

White slowly eases off his alert as he feels her shaking against his back, a telltale sign of her state. Turning around in her hold, he reaches down and curls her shuddering frame against his chest, rubbing her back with his paw to let her feel coccooned within his embrace. Lowering his head, he rests the bottom of his jaw lie on top of her head as he softly hums out a tune and lets the sound flow through his chest and into her.

"All you scarred and dying of war, come and watch the falling of the light.

Gaze upon the shadows, as they echo the sorrow within dead hearts.

Learn the secrets torn within, find the core borne of mere cold wind.

Travel through Night but lose no sight, for everlasting journey,

Must not end by sharp yearning.

Cornered and downed from the sights abound,

Festering wounds turned black and cruel,

Wander through ichor of gods long fallen,

And seek to rise with a new mind strengthened.

Bear with the Fate and care not for Mortal Rate,

Shredding the Taint to part all Hate from the Gate,

Rousing every faint heart's Lonely Mate by following Echoes' solemn gait."

He recites the words to the poem easily, letting it roil and flow down along his throat into the peacefully quiet room.

-----------------------------

Racheria softly presses her cheek against his chest and feels the steadily slow thump of his heartbeat against her head, the gentle pulse calming the turmoil inside with each passing moment. He just held her there for what seemed to be forever, then he eases one of his paws from around her to her chin, lifting her face to look at him while he softly gazes down at her with those cold but deep icy eyes.

"Shedding tears for me is something I do not want to see." He says as he wipes a tear out of her fur with his thumb. "Rather, I want you to keep that anger of yours. It's amusing to watch."

She scoffs softly and releases her hold on him, sliding her paws up along his sides and chest then grabbing his shoulders as she steps back. Using the hold on his shoulders as a guide, she tugs his head down lower and kisses him softly then shoves him back, forcing a rumbling groan from him. She lets go of his shoulders and points at him, even as he watches her with his now fiercely dark blue eyes.

"That's just a taste of something better than my anger."

She says with a grin touched by sadness while he folds his arms against his chest and leans on the sink edge.

White chuckles demeaningly as he looks at her, then reaches out and pokes her in the forehead.

-----------------------------

"I still have a lifetime ahead of me, so calm yourself. Besides...."

He says, running the paw down along the side of her face and throat as she bared it to his touch. "You'll still follow me, even if my heart becomes blacker than the moonless nights."

He then lowers his paw from her neck and turns away, walking over to the stove and sliding the steaming pan off the burner onto a cooling one. Tugging open the cupboard left of the microwave, he pulls out a pair of glass plates and sets them on the counter, closing the cupboard with his elbow. Picking up the spatula from earlier, he lifts the over-easy eggs and sets them the plates with one having an extra egg. Turning the burner off, he lays the spatula down and picks up both plates then walks over to the staring Racheria, swinging one just below her nose as he passes by.

"Hey. The food's ready."

He says, then walks quietly past her into the Northern room where faint streams of the rising sunlight brush against the hardwood table and chairs sitting in the center of the room. Setting the plates by each other on the closest corner of the table, he walks back into the kitchen and opens up the cutlery drawer again, pulling out two pairs of knives and forks. Just as he closes the drawer, a faint breeze from the entryway blows against his fur as he looks up.

"....Damn it."

-----------------------------

Racheria draws the scent of the seasoned eggs into her nose and down her lungs, prying her mind from the reverie of his words to reality. Turning, she follows White into the dining area where another massive window took over the outer wall, accenting the central wood dining set with faint tendrils of light streaming inside. Slipping off to the side as he places the dishes down on a corner of the table and walks back into the kitchen, she looks around for any sort of utensils but finds nothing to hint where they could be.

Sighing, she flips her paw upwards and focuses the feeling of slicing wind within her palm, drawing the air into the physical form of a barely visible shifting line inches long. Moving her paw as she extends one finger and rests it just before touching the wind blade, she guides the edge down with flowing movements and brushes it against the surface of first egg, slicing through the well cooked texture without any resistance. Pushing out the left hand end chair and sitting in it, she continues to cut into the first of three eggs until it is made into smaller, manageable chunks then flicks her other paw, dropping her focus from the wind blade to let it disperse.

A soft clinking sound causes her to look up at the kitchen entryway, where White leans against the doorway with two pairs of metal knives and forks in his paw as he gazes at them before his muzzle.

"I thought you might like some utensils for the food, but your mastery of the elements seems to have grown quite a bit."

He says, lowering his paw to lock his eyes with hers. "So, would you like a fork and knife to eat, or form your own? I promise you I don't poison my eating tools."

She chuckles softly at his mild joke. "I'll take some of yours, if you don't mind."

-----------------------------

White nods and pushes off the entryway frame, walking over and laying down a set by her obliviously claimed plate. He pulls out the singular chair lodged in the end of the table and sits down on it, pulling the other plate in front of him and setting down his utensil set on the left of the plate. Taking the knife into his right paw, he slides the edge across one of two eggs on his plate and smoothly cuts the portion off, stabbing it with the fork in his other paw.

"Alright, tell me why you really came here."

He says, then raises the fork and takes the egg off the end while it's unique mix of flavors pop and flow along his tongue. Chewing quietly, he looks up and at Racheria as she just sits there, surprise spread across her features while she gazes at him.

"I understand you missing the closest friend you've ever had, but there's more to it. Something's off with you, and I don't like it. You don't do this without reason."

He finishes after swallowing, studying how she reacts with cold, calm eyes that collect every motion she makes, from how she breathes to the hair rising on her neck.