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section7mfuTitle: Ukrainian Celebration.
Prompts: purple, damp, and Vodka
Illya introduces Napoleon to an Ukrainian party *I researched Ukrainian customs on several sites. Any mistakes are mine.*
“Are you sure it’s alright that I accompany you to this party, Illya? They are your friends.” Napoleon asked seeing many of those present in native Ukrainian outfits.
“My friend, we Ukrainians are a very welcoming people. Now come along, and I will introduce you to our hostess.”
The men walked through a backyard surrounded by fragrant deep purple lilacs. “What are those?” Napoleon asked pointing to the base of the lilac bushes that were surrounded by other purple flowers. “I’ve never seen that type before.”
“It is called Purple Mist. Our host likes the color purple,” Illya explained as they came to a clearing where an elderly lady was sitting at the head of a table surrounded by other guests. 
When she saw Illya, she called out. “Illya Nichovich, you made it,” before kissing his cheek--left, right, left as per the custom for friends. “And this handsome man, who might he be?”
“Babushka. This is my partner, Napoleon Anthony Solo,” he said handing her his gift of a bottle of wine.
Napoleon kissed her hand and said, “Misis Flauer, dyakuye, shcho zaprosyla mene do sebe dodomu.” (Mrs. Flower, thank you for inviting me to your home.”) Then according to Illya who explained the correct custom, handed her a bouquet with an odd number of flowers in multiple colors except for yellow.
“Such a kind gentleman and you spoke my language beautifully. Please call me Babushka. Come sit down and join our feast.”
“Your accent was horrible,” Illya advised him quietly as they sat down.
“Misis Flauer said it was beautiful,” an insulted Napoleon huffed.
“She is a lady, my friend,” Illya smirked, “and never would insult a guest.”
After they were seated, the food began to be brought out. In front of each guest, a glass of Uzvar was placed. The drink was made of dried fruits mostly dried apples, pears, apricots, and honey to sweeten the already savory drink.
Napoleon reached for the glass but was stopped by Illya who explained until the hostess invited them to begin, they waited.
Lifting the glass to her mouth, Misis Flauer announced, “Нехай починається бенкет.”
“Let the feast begin,” Illya translated. As each dish was presented to them, Illya explained what it was called and contained for Napoleon.
The dinner started with traditionally Borsht that was made with grated beetroot, tomatoes, carrots, fresh or pickled cabbage, and peppers. There were three types of Varenyky were served, the first was stuffed with mashed potatoes with mushrooms and fried onions, another with pickled cabbage, and the last one with minced meat.
Banosh was served next. The traditional food was made of corn flour, cooked in sour cream. With it were plates of sheep cheese, wild white mushrooms and shkvarky (scrunchy bits of pork fat).
Napoleon smiled and began to fold his napkin, “I’ve enjoyed that. The food was excellent.”
“We are just starting my friend. Next will be the main course.”
“Wasn’t that the main course? I’m getting filled although I’m sure you’ve barely started,” Napoleon whispered.
“At least try a little of everything. Otherwise, it is considered very rude. You need to understand, when we celebrate, we eat.” Illya informed him helping himself to a large portion of everything as the main courses were brought out.
Placing his napkin back on his lap, Napoleon said, “Bring it on then.”
The main course consisted of Holubtsi (Stuffed Cabbage Rolls), Kartoplia Solimkoi (Deep-Fried Straw Potatoes), and Kotlety Po-Kyivskomy (Chicken Kiev).
After trying a small amount of all three dishes, Napoleon leaned over telling Illya quietly. “I hope that was it because I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
“The best part is coming out now,” Illya answered rubbing his hands together. A large grin appeared on his face as the dishes were set down.
Dessert was arranged on colorful dishes including, Yabluchnyk (Apple Cake topped with pitted cherries), Kutia (Sweet Wheat Bread Pudding) Makiwnyk (Poppy Seed Cake), and Honey Cake.
Once the dessert dishes were cleaned away, Misis Flauer stood and waited until all of the guest's glasses were filled 2/3 of the way with Vodka. “Моїм друзям і родині. Дякуємо, що поділилися з мною, za vashe zdorovya!”
Illya once more translated for his partner. “To my friends and family. Thank you for sharing the day with me. To your health.”
“Za vashe zdorovya!” the reply came. Servers refilled the glasses numerous times as toast after toast was offered to the host and her continued health.
Illya downed each toast quickly while at the beginning Napoleon also did, but as the toasts continued, he felt himself getting inebriated. Napoleon’s forehead became damp with sweat as the Vodka continued to be poured. “I’m beginning to feel tipsy.” He said.
“Ukrainians are suspicious of those who do not drink so take a sip of each toast, and everyone will be satisfied,” Illya explained as he downed his current glass.
The evening continued with dancing and more drinking which both men participated in. As the night finished, Illya helped his well-oiled partner into the car.
Napoleon leaned his head against the car window to cool off his brow. He was no longer the suave gentleman that had greeted his host. Instead, his suit coat was thrown in the back seat, his tie was hanging around his neck untied, and his hair was damp and messy with sweat.
“Are you sure you should be driving?” Napoleon slurred.
“Of course, I should be. You are too drunk to drive. I was raised on Vodka,” Illya said as he swerved to miss a pole.
“I thought you said that you were alright,” Napoleon complained.
“It is not my fault that pole was in the wrong place,” Illya insisted as he placed his foot on the pedal speeding toward his apartment. “Just relax, and I will get us home.”
Napoleon nodded as he fell asleep, not seeing the two poles and three parked cars that were miss by his partner on the way home. Safely in bed that night, Illya fell asleep with a smile on his face. The evening with his countrymen was just what he needed to overcome the homesickness he had been experiencing lately.
Prompts: purple, damp, and Vodka
Illya introduces Napoleon to an Ukrainian party *I researched Ukrainian customs on several sites. Any mistakes are mine.*
“Are you sure it’s alright that I accompany you to this party, Illya? They are your friends.” Napoleon asked seeing many of those present in native Ukrainian outfits.
“My friend, we Ukrainians are a very welcoming people. Now come along, and I will introduce you to our hostess.”
The men walked through a backyard surrounded by fragrant deep purple lilacs. “What are those?” Napoleon asked pointing to the base of the lilac bushes that were surrounded by other purple flowers. “I’ve never seen that type before.”
“It is called Purple Mist. Our host likes the color purple,” Illya explained as they came to a clearing where an elderly lady was sitting at the head of a table surrounded by other guests. When she saw Illya, she called out. “Illya Nichovich, you made it,” before kissing his cheek--left, right, left as per the custom for friends. “And this handsome man, who might he be?”
“Babushka. This is my partner, Napoleon Anthony Solo,” he said handing her his gift of a bottle of wine.
Napoleon kissed her hand and said, “Misis Flauer, dyakuye, shcho zaprosyla mene do sebe dodomu.” (Mrs. Flower, thank you for inviting me to your home.”) Then according to Illya who explained the correct custom, handed her a bouquet with an odd number of flowers in multiple colors except for yellow.
“Such a kind gentleman and you spoke my language beautifully. Please call me Babushka. Come sit down and join our feast.”
“Your accent was horrible,” Illya advised him quietly as they sat down.
“Misis Flauer said it was beautiful,” an insulted Napoleon huffed.
“She is a lady, my friend,” Illya smirked, “and never would insult a guest.”
After they were seated, the food began to be brought out. In front of each guest, a glass of Uzvar was placed. The drink was made of dried fruits mostly dried apples, pears, apricots, and honey to sweeten the already savory drink.
Napoleon reached for the glass but was stopped by Illya who explained until the hostess invited them to begin, they waited.
Lifting the glass to her mouth, Misis Flauer announced, “Нехай починається бенкет.”
“Let the feast begin,” Illya translated. As each dish was presented to them, Illya explained what it was called and contained for Napoleon.
The dinner started with traditionally Borsht that was made with grated beetroot, tomatoes, carrots, fresh or pickled cabbage, and peppers. There were three types of Varenyky were served, the first was stuffed with mashed potatoes with mushrooms and fried onions, another with pickled cabbage, and the last one with minced meat.
Banosh was served next. The traditional food was made of corn flour, cooked in sour cream. With it were plates of sheep cheese, wild white mushrooms and shkvarky (scrunchy bits of pork fat).
Napoleon smiled and began to fold his napkin, “I’ve enjoyed that. The food was excellent.”
“We are just starting my friend. Next will be the main course.”
“Wasn’t that the main course? I’m getting filled although I’m sure you’ve barely started,” Napoleon whispered.
“At least try a little of everything. Otherwise, it is considered very rude. You need to understand, when we celebrate, we eat.” Illya informed him helping himself to a large portion of everything as the main courses were brought out.
Placing his napkin back on his lap, Napoleon said, “Bring it on then.”
The main course consisted of Holubtsi (Stuffed Cabbage Rolls), Kartoplia Solimkoi (Deep-Fried Straw Potatoes), and Kotlety Po-Kyivskomy (Chicken Kiev).
After trying a small amount of all three dishes, Napoleon leaned over telling Illya quietly. “I hope that was it because I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
“The best part is coming out now,” Illya answered rubbing his hands together. A large grin appeared on his face as the dishes were set down.
Dessert was arranged on colorful dishes including, Yabluchnyk (Apple Cake topped with pitted cherries), Kutia (Sweet Wheat Bread Pudding) Makiwnyk (Poppy Seed Cake), and Honey Cake.
Once the dessert dishes were cleaned away, Misis Flauer stood and waited until all of the guest's glasses were filled 2/3 of the way with Vodka. “Моїм друзям і родині. Дякуємо, що поділилися з мною, za vashe zdorovya!”
Illya once more translated for his partner. “To my friends and family. Thank you for sharing the day with me. To your health.”
“Za vashe zdorovya!” the reply came. Servers refilled the glasses numerous times as toast after toast was offered to the host and her continued health.
Illya downed each toast quickly while at the beginning Napoleon also did, but as the toasts continued, he felt himself getting inebriated. Napoleon’s forehead became damp with sweat as the Vodka continued to be poured. “I’m beginning to feel tipsy.” He said.
“Ukrainians are suspicious of those who do not drink so take a sip of each toast, and everyone will be satisfied,” Illya explained as he downed his current glass.
The evening continued with dancing and more drinking which both men participated in. As the night finished, Illya helped his well-oiled partner into the car.
Napoleon leaned his head against the car window to cool off his brow. He was no longer the suave gentleman that had greeted his host. Instead, his suit coat was thrown in the back seat, his tie was hanging around his neck untied, and his hair was damp and messy with sweat.
“Are you sure you should be driving?” Napoleon slurred.
“Of course, I should be. You are too drunk to drive. I was raised on Vodka,” Illya said as he swerved to miss a pole.
“I thought you said that you were alright,” Napoleon complained.
“It is not my fault that pole was in the wrong place,” Illya insisted as he placed his foot on the pedal speeding toward his apartment. “Just relax, and I will get us home.”
Napoleon nodded as he fell asleep, not seeing the two poles and three parked cars that were miss by his partner on the way home. Safely in bed that night, Illya fell asleep with a smile on his face. The evening with his countrymen was just what he needed to overcome the homesickness he had been experiencing lately.
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