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Post by Lithuania on Mar 20, 2012 12:41:37 GMT -5
"Oh alright then." Lithuania took the sword over to the small basin on the other side of the kitchen, the pipes hadn't been cleaned over here yet so turning the tap on was a bit of a challenge. He grabbed a few towels from the side and used them to wipe the drying blood off of the blade.
"Does this thing absorb blood or something?" Lithuania furrowed his brow and increased the scraping at the sword, trying not to damage the weapon, but the blood underneath was stuck fast onto the metal.
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Post by [x] Prussia on Mar 20, 2012 23:08:14 GMT -5
Prussia contemplated for a moment, trying to decipher what the Scot had just told him. His dialect was difficult to understand at times...
"Oh, I see," he said, finally getting it. It was rather strange to think such disgusting mutant creatures were the norm these days. And here they were, preparing it like it was some sort of treat. But, Prussia thought, it technically was.
Watching as Scotland skinned the animal with mild disinterest- he had seen just as bad in the past- he absentmindedly tossed the roll of paper towels back and forth between his hands. "Oh shit!" he realized with a sinking feeling. He had completely forgotten about the race! Looking around, he saw that though Lithuania was distracted with his task of cleaning the sword, America had been hard at work this whole time and was way ahead. Should he bother trying to catch up when the title of Best Cleaner was at stake...?
Prussia decided he was growing bored of the chores and settled for lobbing the paper towels at America. He had landed a direct hit, their fabric making a soft thunk sound as they collided with the back of the blond's head. With an amused smirk, he turned back around and acted as if nothing had happened. "You've got to put some more elbow grease behind it," he commented to Lithuania, who was struggling to remove the blood from the steel of Scotland's sword.
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Post by [x] Spain on Mar 21, 2012 8:30:24 GMT -5
Spain shook his head, knocking out some of the dirt that was left from his and Roma's - ahem - adventure. They had finally tidied up the garden and were heading back into the kitchen to see how things were going.
"So, how's everyone doing?" He poked his head in and noticed how sparkling clean everything was.
Oh, and the horrendous stench of the mutated deer that was lying on the table.
He reeled back for a moment but then smiled. "Well, looks like we have the rest of dinner~" He set down his basket of fresh-picked vegetables on the counter and began washing them. "Did I miss anything interesting?"
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Post by Scotland on Mar 21, 2012 10:05:05 GMT -5
Scotland continued cutting (but not like an emo), opening up the body cavity and pulling the viscera out. If this was a herbavore, he might save some of the innards, but predators just weren't as good. Now that the creature is hollowed out, Scotland started cutting at the joints, separating the legs into large drumsticks like something a caveman might chew on.
He looked up briefly from the sink with a side glance at Spain as the man walked in, the redhead's hands bloodied up to mid-forearm. Ah, so the unsuspecting cook had arrived.
He chuckled slightly to himself as he picked up a heavier knife to chop the ribs into racks. What ever meat is left on the rest of the carcass, like the large neck and shoulder muscles, are cut into slabs and set aside. The remmants get tossed into the trash can to be buried or burned, or used for fertilizer or whatever they used unwanted bits for.
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Post by [x] Prussia on Mar 21, 2012 10:46:07 GMT -5
((Brb LOL'ing at Scotland's emo joke xDD))
"Spain!" Prussia called out, happy to see his old friend. The other looked a bit tussled, though. He must have been working hard in the garden. "The Awesome Me been hard at work here. Cleaning up and keeping these guys in check," he said with a smirk, gesturing at America and Lithuania.
"Are you going to make something good for us with this thing?" he asked, referring to the creature that Scotland was currently slicing up in a bloody mess.
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Post by Lithuania on Mar 21, 2012 13:35:16 GMT -5
"I know...I have cleaned swords before Prussia. I take pride in my own. But this one...maybe it's the blood but! Ah we have metal." Lithuania cheered inwardly as the blood flaked off and swirled in crimson streaks down the drain.
He raised an eyebrow at Prussia's words to Spain, he highly doubted that it was he who needed watching, although maybe America did.
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Post by [x] Spain on Mar 21, 2012 18:51:21 GMT -5
"Si, I'll try. I've never really cooked with venison before - never mind mutated venison. It's a delicacy where I'm from." Spain set a spare towel out to dry the vegetables. "Hm, perhaps I should get someone to help... He was looking around with his chin in his hand when his green eyes laid upon one person whom he just knew would be good with this kind of meat. "America, you've worked with venison before, no? After all, it is really popular in your country. Would you mind helping me prepare it?"
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Post by America on Mar 21, 2012 19:04:48 GMT -5
America had only been half-listening to the conversations around him. Once he was certain that no one was going to make him clean such a nasty animal, he had focused hard on his work. With any luck, I'll be far ahead by the time Prussia even decides to join! He was fully determined to make sure he won the race. And, if using the distraction to his advantage was his ticket to become the Best Cleaner, than so be it.
However, he soon felt something smack him straight in the back of his head. He spun around, glaring at the roll of paper towels. Now, who could have done that? he thought angrily, his gaze instantly landing on the only one not doing anything.
Of course. Prussia. He should have known.
This did mean, though, that Prussia probably wasn't going to start cleaning any time soon. Which, in turn, meant America won by default. Satisfied, he sat back on his knees, dropping the dirty paper towel he had been using. He was trying to figure out if he should hit Prussia, but decided against it, especially once Spain walked in.
"You're not keeping me in check. More like the other way around," America retaliated to Prussia, finally standing up. He wrinkled his nose as he caught sight of that lovely creature being sliced apart.
He forced himself to turn away from the mutated thing, and grinned at Spain. "Sure!" he replied, quite pleased that he was going to be recruited into making their next meal. His cooking was probably the best, and he really wouldn't mind something that reminded him of home. Well, once you got past the whole 'mutated' thing, that is. "Once it's, uh, all clean, I'll totally make it taste perfect!" Because, yes, that was indeed what he was good at. Making perfect meals. Well, better meals than England, anyway.
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Post by [x] Spain on Mar 21, 2012 19:44:47 GMT -5
"Gracias!" Spain clapped his hands together in thanks. "Just shout when it's done being prepared~!"
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Post by Scotland on Mar 22, 2012 5:42:10 GMT -5
Scotland raised a red eyebrow at hearing Spain call the beast venison. Sure, it could be venison. Whatever they wanted to call it. He wasn't sure what else to call it other than mutated-beast-that-wanted-to-eat-my-face.
Finally done salvaging what he could off the beast, Scotland drops the knife in the sink and rinses the blood off his hands and arms. He needed a hot shower before he'd stop smelling like blood. But even before that, he needed to sharpen his sword. He took the time to rinse off each chunk of meat, checking each piece for any sign of dirt or other foreign materials.
So America was going to have his hands in the cooking. He was really curious now how this was going to turn out.
"Aye, ye be wantin' ribs, drumstick r' steak?" He pointed at the pile of cleaned meat in the sink.
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Post by [x] Spain on Mar 22, 2012 17:49:52 GMT -5
After finishing up the vegetables and ensuring they were all in their proper place, ready to be utilized for the side of dinner, Spain inspected the meat. "Well," he said after a while, "We'll want to preserve whatever we don't use for later. And we have around... 24 countries to feed... " He sighed, running his hand through his wavy brown hair. "I guess we'll just use all of it. Gracias, Escocia."
Leaving the huge beast which he assumed was a deer to America, he began his next task: making enough side food for the other countries. Luckily, all the plants in the greenhouse he was extremely familiar with and could easily make something great out of it.
Mind you, not something fancy.
If he had enough supplies, he could have easily made something that would rival even France's cooking (which was pretty freaking hard to do), sadly, however, that was not the case.
The one thing he knew that everyone would enjoy would be some fresh salad and some grilled vegetables. No one can resist those, especially when made by the sunniest nation around!
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Post by America on Mar 22, 2012 19:17:47 GMT -5
America rolled his sleeves up and looked at the large hunk of meat. He now couldn't deny how amazingly tasty this would be once properly cooked. How to cook it, though? Hopefully there would be enough for every country to have their fill, though he doubted it. Especially with the larger nations, such as himself.
It was at times like this he really wished for thousands of spices and sauce. "Uh...anyone have any sort of meal they'd like?" he asked. With such a limited amount of supplies to make the meat taste better, he was slowly running out of ideas. I wish I could make some steak, but I don't think there's any way I can pull it off and make it taste decent...
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Post by Lithuania on Mar 23, 2012 16:15:33 GMT -5
"Are there any extra bits and pieces around?" Lithuania questioned, he was rather doubtful about how the...thing...was going to taste once it was cooked. And nobody let England anywhere near it.
The rather poisonous looking thing would actually become poisonous.
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Post by Scotland on Mar 24, 2012 7:17:52 GMT -5
Scotland nodded at Spain in acknowledgement of his thanks, and shrugged at America when asked about preferred meals.
"Like it cooked," was all he offered. If everyone complained about England's cooking, no one would survive his own cooking. When England was a tiny thing he'd tried to refuse Scotland's food, at which Scotland had great sport in trying to make him eat it. How was the little guy going to grow without eating a man's meal? That was why England was as scrawny as he was today. In fact, since America actually had some shoulders and muscle, Scotland assumed they must have been inherited from himself. It was the only feasible explanation.
The redhead grabbed up the bag of unwanted beast parts in the trash can, then kicked the empty can across the floor until it was back in place. Scotland then picked up his gloves, clothes and sword sheath, tucked them into the same hand as the bag, and walked over to Lithuania, free hand out for his sword. Let America figure out what pieces they didn't need for dinner.
"I be thankin' ye," he said with a nod to the brunette. "An I owe ye."
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Post by Lithuania on Mar 24, 2012 14:16:40 GMT -5
Lithuania held out the, finally, clean sword to Scotland. "No problem."
Please make sure someone who knew what they were doing got at that thing. He really didn't want to be eating all the wrong parts of something that mutated.
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