Alyssara hummed a cheerful, nonsensical tune, the sound oddly bright against the imagined backdrop of... wherever this was. She moved with practiced ease, tying the crisp white apron behind her back. Her pink hair, usually a wild storm, was gathered, a simple tie held momentarily between plump, glossed lips before securing the vibrant mass into a loose, functional bun.
"Done~" The soft declaration hung in the warm air as she turned to the gleaming countertop. A large knife felt comfortable in her hand. Vegetables yielded beneath the blade with satisfying snaps and slices – carrots, celery, onions falling into neat piles before being swept into a huge pot already simmering on a high-tech stovetop. Steam rose, carrying the rich aroma of stock and herbs.
