(Takes place sometime after Cold, Lost and Alone.)

A few months had passed since the day he had met Jahanara. He'd taken the job as a Blacksmith and the job as a Bartender/Bouncer. He had a few hours before each that he either napped, or spent time with Chip and Jahanara.

His Jah.

He couldn't quite get used to that, it had been over Ten years since he had someone who cared about him in the way she did. Not to mention Chip had made incredible progress towards becoming "A Lady." Atleast when Jahanara was around. When it was just Chip and he, Chip was given a bit more leniancy on things. Except Stealing, that was one thing that remained regardless. He was now living over the Bar, with Chip. And when Jahanara had the time she would drop in and have Dinner with the two of them. He worked long hours, but the pay he was making was adequate, besides he had trouble sleeping a full night ever since his days in the mines. He'd told both Chip and Jahanara that much atleast. The look on their faces when he had explained how he had lost the piece of his ear had them both shocked that such things were allowed.

Chip was wearing a set of her pants, and a long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Even after her and Jahanara had gone back and traded for a couple of dresses, Chip had insisted those were special occasions and had continued to wear the boys clothes. The matter of her Birthrite Ceremony had perplexed Galaviar and Jahanara, for she needed that before she could start training in Craft, let alone as a Queen. However, neither Jahanara or Galaviar were her Parent's so they were a little confused as how to accomplish this. Chip hadn't pushed the matter insisting that she would get them soon enough, and she wasn't that worried about it.

His days in the Smithy Shop were among his happiest. He had learned how to make more than just weapons, and the Blacksmith himself was surprised at how quickly he was learning the Craft. At the Bar he made drinks and passed on orders to the Kitchen. Only occasionally had he needed to talk a drunken patron down. And out of those only one had been Eyrien, the resulting disagreement had both Fighters meeting on the outskirts of town the next day for a formal Challenge.

Appearantly, the Drunken Eyrien had felt his honor Questioned by being thrown out by an Eyrien who didn't know who he was. The fight was not overly long, but at it's climax both fighters were bruised and battered from their Stick fighting match. Galaviar had won, but it had been a close Match the entire way. Galaviar had won by using an unorthodox move that Haroth had taught him to gain the upperhand, and the move had so caught the other fighter off guard that Galaviar had not only disarmed him, but placed him on his backside with the follow up.

The Other Eyrien had since become a regular at the Bar and had asked repeatedly where he had learned that move from. Galaviar and the Younger Eyrien had become Friendly Sparring partners since that Day though never trading names, which for their kind was.. Odd. But Galaviar didn't ask questions, he was used to avoiding questions himself so he didn't feel like prying into the Other Warriors life.

Galaviar liked this new place, Ebon Rih. Of Ebon Askavi, Kaeleer

He smiled as he began to concentrate fully on his work at the Anvil, small flecks flying at each of his hammer blows to the heated metal. For the first time in years he had something that he had always felt missing,

He had a Home.

Galaviar worked the pedal to the grinding wheel with his foot. He had to keep reminding himself this people wanted a utility edge instead of a fighting edge. The main difference was a utility edge was best suited for chopping wood, and a fighting edge was self-explanatory.

The axe he had been working on had been brought in by a local farmer, the head battered and chipped in places. At first glance most would have thought to just scrap it and start over, but under closer inspection Galaviar noted that for as beaten up as it was, it still worked surprisingly well. What most people never realize is that a tool, or a weapon or anything made is only as good as the materials used to make it, not just the quality of the workmanship. This axe head was made of good steel, and with a little hard work would be good as new. The farmer seemed to straighten at this and proceeded to tell him that this axe had been his fathers and had only ever needed it's handle replaced as far as he could remember.

Galaviar had started with getting a vice set up and a bringing a few of his tools to the table nearest the forge and anvil. The head heated up slowly which told him just how good the steel was. When it became a bright orange he grabbed it with his tongs and placed it on the anvil, Hammer in hand he started to rework the metal, sticking it back in the forge whenever it began to fade to a dark red. The process took less than an hour, the farmer sat there watching his axe being reshaped. The Axehead was placed in the vice last, so that Galaviar could inspect the presharpened edge. Smiling at what he saw, he dropped the Axehead into the pale of water to cool for a few minutes. The farmer sat patiently, making small talk. When Galaviar retrieved the axe head from the bucket he showed the farmer that his suspiscions were correct, the nicks and gouges in the blade were gone. The only things that remained were refitting it to the handle, and putting an edge on it, both were accomplised within minutes. The Farmer walked away happily having only to pay for a reworking, not a new head entirely. Not only cheaper, but quicker as well.

The Owner and Head Blacksmith in the shop placed a hand on Galaviar's shoulder,

"Son, you do realize that you could have sold that man a new head and made a few extra marks for your pocket? Why didn't ya do that instead of fixing that old beat up head?"

Galaviar looked back at the Old smith and smiled,

"It just needed a little work, no sense selling something new, when what's old is still good. I understand I could have made the shop a few extra marks, but he didn't need a new head, and we didn't need to use any of our stock. Everyone wins this way."

The smith Returned Galaviar's smile,

"My old worker would have sold him a new head, and tried to sell him all new farm tools. He probably would have lost us that man's business too. Go on, you take a longer lunch today, You've earned it. Go see those girl's of yours, and I'll see you back here after lunch."

Galaviar nodded his head and went back to his workspace. Putting his tools back in their places, and leaving his apron draped over his anvil he washed his hands and face in a pail by the door before leaving. The people waived as he walked by, recognizing the Eyrien who had wandered in and found a place among them. He walked the street towards the back stairway of the tavern leading up towards his home. It may not have been much, but it was his.

(OOC: Hope its okay I messed with Chip)

There was something relaxing about cooking, a sort of reassurance that one got from knowing if you mixed a certain amount of this with a certain amount of that, it would come out as something tasty.

"Chip! Put that spoon down, young lady," Jahanara rebuked the young Queen, amusement taking the sting out of the words. "You can't lick that, the eggs are raw, you'll get sick. Here, you can have some chocolate bits."

After giving the girl a handful of chocolate to munch on, Jah turned back to mixing the cookies. Her mentor was out of town, having been called away to the coven to meet a visiting coven leader and Jah had decided to spend the day with Chip. Over the past few months she had spent a bit of time with the young witch, getting to know the girl who Galaviar had taken under his wing(s). Galaviar. The thought of his name brought a soft smile to her face.

It had always been hard for Jahanara to make male friends after...the incident. But somehow, on some instinctual level, she was never afraid around the Opal Jeweled Warlord. He made her feel safe, brought a fire and passion to her life that she had never experienced. She saw colors in the world again, saw a flower and smiled. Her world was alive again, bright with a possibility that had been missing ever since her father died.

"Okay, we're going to scoop the dough out onto the pan like this..." Jah showed Chip how to make the little balls of cookie dough and put them on the cookie sheet. She had brought the girl to her home to teach her a bit of cooking. They had left a note for Galaviar in his apartment in case he came home for lunch and Jah was almost positive they would see him sometime that day.

"Alright, that's the last of them. Why don't you put them in the oven?"

After the cookies were in the oven, Jah stepped back and wiped her brow, leaving a streak of white flour across her skin. Chip was practically covered in flour, having tilted the bowl to far towards her and Jah was a bit of a mess herself. Today she had decided to be daring and put on a pair of white shorts and a light blue blouse. Her long hair was held back from her face with a scarf, but her customary golden hoops hung from her ears. When she had looked in the mirror that morning she had laughed. She looked like someone had thrown together her old life and her new. But that was how it was for her now. She had to look forward, not back, had to embrace this new life. And she was learning how to see this place as a home, not just place to stay.

With a smile, she realized Chip and Galaviar had helped with her new outlook. As long as they were there, this would be her home.

Galaviar opened the door to his home to find it empty. Which was unusual for this time of day, but not unheard of. Jah had probably taken Chip out for some "Girl-time" as they sometimes called it. If someone would have told him a year ago that he would be in his current situation he would have called them a liar and probably slain them where they stood. He splashed some water on his face and called out to chip on a thread, saying he had gone on Lunch early, and was told they were at Jahanara's. And he was to come there for lunch. He shook his head at his young Queen, already giving him orders and agreed. He walked across town and as he did he found himself thinking.

I wonder if they would let me adopt Chip? I mean I know I'm not an ideal father figure, but the kid could do a whole lot worse. I wonder if they would let me. I should really check into that.

As he walked up to the small home of Jahanara's mistress he smelled what he thought was heaven.

"Cookies."

The grin spread across his face as he crouched down and peered over the window sill inside. Using a little craft he floated the bowl of Cookie dough over and was about to stick a finger in it when he realized how dirty his fingers were. Taking the bowl and walking to the door he used craft to spoon a small amount out and ate it while he knocked at the door. He knew the look he would get from Jahanara for sneaking the cookie dough, and then she would say he was setting a bad example for Chip, and while she was focusing on him Chip could get a little too. After all, Dad's are supposed to be fun for their little girls.

Atleast until she reached dating age, then the rules would change.

Dramatically.

"How about we make lunch, Chip?"

Now that the cookies were in the oven and the baking mess was mostly cleaned up, Jahanara realized how late it was. Galaviar would be taking his lunch break soon and no doubt would be by as soon as he saw her note. Jah ran through a list of lunch ideas in her head, dismissing more complicated dishes as she wanted Chip to help.

Cooking had been one of the things she had loved to do with her own mother and on some level, just as Galaviar thought of the girl as his daughter, Jahanara had come to love the little Queen as her own. Since, as far as Jah could tell, Chip had never learned a lot of the tasks Jah considered essential for a witch to know, such as cooking something beyond a simple stew and flat bread and keeping a home tidy. So the Black Widow was determined to show the younger witch how.

"How about something with chicken in it?" she mused out loud, setting the bowl of left over cookie dough by the window to get it out of the way. "Chicken fingers and some kind of sauce. Yes, that sounds good."

Jah got out the chicken, oil and other ingredients and spread them across the big worktable. Carefully writing down the recipe for the honey mustard sauce, she let Chip work on that while she readied the chicken. She hummed as they worked, a work song from her homeland, one sung by the witches of her tribe for generations as they cooked the meals and cleaned their homes. Jah didn't even realize she was singing until a tear dropped onto the cutting board. She touched her face and was surprised to find it wet with tears.

"Oh," she said softly and turned away from the table. "I'll...I'll be right back, Chip. Don't go anywhere."

She hurried away from the kitchen and closed herself into the bathroom. Gripping the edges of the sink, she stared at her reflection, tracing the tear stains with her eyes.

"You do not miss it," she told herself firmly. "You have a home here, a place where you are needed and wanted. Galaviar wants you and Chip likes you and mistress likes you too. You do not want to go back. Ever."

She stood up straight and tugged on her shirt, brushing at the flour stains before carefully applying a little make-up to hide her tears.

Forcing herself to smile, she returned to the kitchen and finished preparing the chicken. After the chicken was in the oven, the first batch of cookies cooling on the counter and she had inspected Chip's sauce, pronouncing it excellent, she looked around, sensing something was missing. There. The cookie dough bowl was missing.

"Chip, did you..."

The knock at the door startled her and she hurried to open it. She started to smile, her heart turning flip-flops when she saw Galaviar.

"Hi," she said softly. "You're really early." Then she spotted the bowl. "Galaviar!" she exclaimed, reaching to take the bowl from him. "Don't eat that, we're making cookies!"

Galaviar smiled as she looked at him. He saw Chip slide a quick finger around the lip of the bowl and walk off to start preparing whatever was for lunch.

“I know, I could smell them down the street. And Cookies though very tasty….”

He leaned in close to her and leaned over to whisper in her ear, his cheek rubbing across hers, his lips stopping just before his lips found her ear,

“….. cookie dough is down right delicious. Like a few other things.”

He felt her skin grow warm to the touch and knew she was blushing. Even though they had not gotten nearly that intimate, they both knew what he was talking about. He leaned back and placed a small kiss on her nose.

“Besides, sometimes its good to be a little bad. You two need help with lunch?”

He looked over the counter full of ingredients and suddenly realized something.
Of all the things sitting on the counter the only things he recognized was the chicken, and the oil. He thought he saw salt, and maybe pepper, but everything else was a complete mystery to him. Suddenly he was thinking that maybe he should have kept his offer to help to himself. His felt Jah’s eyes on him and knew that she was coming to the same realization he had just had.

He knew very little about cooking, unless it involved a fire pit out in the woods and meant his survival.

His smile made her heart beat faster and Jah couldn’t help the foolish smile that flashed across her face. Her hold on the bowl loosened when he leaned close, rubbing his cheek against hers. She felt the flash of heat as her cheeks reddened and her blush deepened. There was something about Galaviar that made her feel special, brought out the playful and fun loving side of her. She banished the bowl to its original spot on the counter and stood on her tip toes, resting her hands on his shoulders to steady herself as she pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss. It wouldn’t do to do more than that with Chip in the room, which Jah regretted deeply.

“A little bad might ruin your lunch this time,” she laughed as she pulled away and busied herself around the kitchen. She looked up in time to see the confused look on his face as he surveyed the table full of ingredients. She stifled a giggle when she realized he had no clue what to do with half of them. She smothered her laughter and gently pushed him towards a chair next to Chip.

“Sit,” she said firmly before turning back to the chicken.

She talked as she worked, informing both the young Queen she adored and the Warlord she loved about the process of creating the chicken dish as she worked, tossing the strips of chicken into the flour mixture she had made and dropping them in the pot of hot oil she had thrown a shield over.

Before long, the meal was ready and she set the plates of warm chicken fingers and sauce in front of her companions.

"Bon appétit!"