Abbernathy and Magick's End

(5) - Cornflower Blue -

The Den, Continent of Noriie, Even Gale.

☆

FOOD WAS to be enjoyed. And after dying once, and nearly dying a second time, and having an empty, angry stomach, any kind of food was a luxury to be savored.

Stew most of all.

Pillowy chunks of potato and turnip and red root burst across his tongue as they'd been cooked to the brink. But for Sebbi, quickly disintegrating vegetables were a blessing as it allowed him to gorge himself on the good stuff.

By which, he meant the flaky, white pieces of fish, of which his bowls had been filled with plenty. The Den's proprietor had proclaimed their stew finest in the land, with a whole fish secured in each bowl.

While Sebbi might argue his first claim, and cite Mirea home to the best stew, the part about a whole fish in each bowl seemed true. The cream broth had been plenty thick and loaded with fish, and hints of woodsy herbs playfully danced across his tongue.

Granted he could have been served mud and enjoyed it after traveling in the desert and subsisting on sand and determination alone, but this was a far better feasting experience.

Or it would have been, had it not been for his dour companion seated across the table, jamming his fork into the wood.

Uusa glowered when he finally noticed Sebbi watching him.

"You're fat," the boy said flatly, throwing his fork down. Dancer was curled in his lap, cleaning the cream off his whiskers after being given an entire bowl to himself.

"You'd eat like me if you'd been stranded in a desert," Sebbi managed between inhales of stew.

"No, I wouldn't." Uusa squirmed in his seat, and huffed.

Dancer raised his head, giving an irritated meow. His tail stiffly swatted Uusa's thigh. As this was a particularly effecting tactic to secure one's owner's attention used by most cats, though mastered by only a few (Lucy), Uusa's gaze dropped to the cat, his fingers mindlessly scratching between the cat's ears. A victorious purr floated up Dancer's throat.

"I'd remember my manners," the boy continued.

Sebbi placed his spoon down, picked up the bowl and brought it to his mouth. "And where in that manner manual you follow does it say to poke a dead man with a stick?" Over the rim of his bowl, he shot the boy a smirk. "I didn't much care fore being poked."

Uusa puffed out his cheeks and turned away. "I thought you were dead." In the dimming grey light floating in from the outside heat lamps, Uusa's scales glowed a soft red. The hairs around his horn nubs lifted slightly like the hackles of some agitated predator. "Dead men don't feel pokes."

"Dead men don't eat stew either, but--" Sebbi slammed his bowl onto the table, an emptied fifth next to his other emptied four. "--here we are." Leaned back in his seat, his stomach gave a soft gurgle of appreciation. "You know, I knew someone like you."

Uusa's eyes flicked to his face, clearly interested, but clearly trying to feign disinterest. Much like Abby had done when her teachers struck an interesting chord of discussion, but because it was school, she had felt compelled to maintain appearances.

A wan smile settled onto his lips. He could see her. Sneak aboard a ship headed north, dock in some sea port and find his way back to her. Crawl, if need be. And yet, here he was stuffing his face, lingering.

Sebbi shook away his thoughts and continued. "Always on me about table manners and etiquette."

"Clearly," Uusa snorted and pursed his lips, "Your instructor failed."