Cade Cooking

In Elemental Lies, there’s a scene where Val, Sienna, Cade and Xavier have lunch at the Landston’s house. At one point, I had the whole scene fleshed out further. It was cool, because it showed a side of Cade we don’t normally get to see. He was light-spirited and playful. It didn’t meet the mood/tone of the scene, though, so it got cut. Enjoy! ♥


Cade stood on one side of an island bar, and gestured for us to sit in the stools on the other side.
Then he fueled up his wisps.
Apparently we were getting a show.
Wooden bowls, mixing spoons, and cutting boards appeared, along with a metal skillet and loaf pan. He quickly created a variety of garden vegetables that sliced and diced themselves at his will. He chopped and ground until some of them formed spices and herbs. When what looked like stir-fry was put on the stove, he began on other items.
He formed wheat and spun it into flour, then added the bare minimum ingredients for homemade bread: salt and yeast (which is actually a fungus, and is still technically under the jurisdiction of an Earth).
But he still needed water.
He held the bowl of powder out to me.
“Val? A little water, please.”
I glanced at the faucet over the sink. Then I glanced at Xavier. Surely either of those would’ve worked just fine. I really didn’t want to mess anything up.
Eventually I just grinned and held my hand over the bowl. When I wiggled my fingers, a light sprinkle of droplets fell down like rain. Cade waited in exaggerated impatience, while Xavier and Sienna chuckled.
“Aaaand… stop!” he said, excitedly.
I’d never seen him like this. Genuinely happy, for starters. But also, so completely in his element – literally. He apparently loved creating things from the Earth, and food most of all.
I could get used to that…
He topped the bread loaf with spices and herbs and placed it into the oven.
Next, he started on dessert.
He swiped an arm across the counter, and all the excess food he’d created disappeared into smoke-like wisps.
Pineapples and bananas, kiwis and strawberries, blueberries and oranges all found themselves chopped up and tossed into a bowl full of other fruits, and nuts as well.
To top it off, he created a small maple tree and tipped it like a teapot. Sap collected into a mixing bowl.
He held it out to me again. This time, though, the bowl hovered in mid-air with his fingers a foot or so away.
“A little fire this time?” he asked. I was half surprised he didn’t wink or waggle his eyebrows, with that enticing tone.
I cupped a palm beneath the bowl and fired up my element. Much quicker than normal, I’d warmed the sap into a thick, bubbling syrup. Afterward, I touched the bowl and drained the heat.
He drizzled the syrup over the fruit salad, then he put it in the fridge.
Back at the stove, he whisked his stir-fry and turned off the burner. Then the oven beeped. When he lowered the door, the mouthwatering smell of bread and herbs overwhelmed the air.

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