Warnings and Warfare

Chef was well accustomed to people in her kitchen. She was also well accustomed to watching the people in her kitchen, as she did not trust them around her workspace. What she was not accustomed to was babysitting children. Yet that is where she found herself, watching both eight-year-olds as she carefully cut up some vegetables for the stew. The smaller one kept trying to see over the counter, which grew more dangerous once the oven was cut on, so Chef lifted them to sit on the counter instead. Coco and Sasha sat on the counter, swinging their legs happily. Chef didn't know how she got stuck babysitting, but she decided to accept fate. Currently, Sasha and Coco were trying to be as helpful as possible. She even learned more about their lives, if that was possible. She may not babysit often, but she did live in the castle, and Coco did stay overnight frequently. Coco tilted her head as she stared at the woman, "What's your name?"

"Chef," she replied simply, hiding a smile as the eight-year-old groaned again. She had kept the girls distracted with sweets for a while, but as both girls polished off their second dessert, they started asking questions again.

"Your *real* name!" Sasha giggled. Chef wiped her hands off on her apron as she approached the two girls. Coco giggled and reached her hand out to grab Chef's hand. Chef allowed Coco to hold her hand. It was rare to catch Coco without one of the many brothers that surrounded her at almost all times, and even rarer for the girl to sit still.

"Everyone calls me Chef." Chef replied with a smile, "My parents were chefs, and I am a chef. It's easier that way."

"You weren't named chef," Coco replied with a smile. Chef shook her head fondly. Coco may have been half-human, but she was very perceptive to the ways of the abyssal plains.

"That's true." Chef chuckled and wiped icing off Coco's chin, where she had messily eaten the first sweet. Chef thought she saw a faint glow in Coco's eyes, the kind that occurred when magic was being used, but once she blinked, it was gone. Chef smiled softly, "However, as I am sure you are both aware, names are incredibly special here."

"Can we call you anything except Chef?" Sasha asked, tilting her head. Chef laughed and ruffled her pastel hair. It was an unusual color for a child but not the strangest she's seen. After a moment of thinking, Chef nodded.

"You may call me Carlie. How about that?" Chef asked with a smile. She found herself laughing again as both girls eagerly high-fived each other. "I see that is an acceptable solution."

"Yes!" Coco giggled, kicking her feet again. Chef- well, Carlie now- rolled her eyes fondly as she returned to the simmering pot. The girls were quiet for a moment, mumbling to each other about some nonsense. Carlie allowed herself to tune out, a mistake she soon realized as the peace was soon broken with Sasha standing on the counter and attempting to get closer to her.

"Careful now!" Carlie scolded, placing the spoon down in order to hold a steady hand on Sasha's leg. Sasha reached out and brushed against her eyebrow. A long scar cut across the hair there and dipped dangerously close to her eye. Sasha traced the scar with her finger.

"How did you get that scar?" Sasha asked inquisitively. Her eyes shined with curiosity, and Carlie huffed out a laugh.

"If you sit down, I will tell you." She offered. Sasha immediately sat back beside Coco. Carlie blinked at how easily Sasha listened to her. "Well, I was around your age. Unfortunately, the story is not as fantastic as it looks like it would be. I was simply young and dumb. I attempted to grab a butcher knife in the kitchen. My mother and father told me numerous times not to as they said it was too dangerous and I was not ready for its weight. I thought I knew better and attempted to grab it anyway. The handle fell to the ground, and the blade slipped off the counter, catching my eyebrow."