Fate - First Reply Unseen hours

[Voe]

Blood sizzled in the pan. Cooking with blood added smoke to the meal, let the taste of char seep into the meat and for Voe, the deeper the taste got the better.

Sleep evaded him, so much so that not even Otho had been roused to accompany him to the kitchen, which the Drake-hound was not permitted into anyway.

As the room filled with the rich smells of smoked deer flesh no thought was given to his appearance which was shoeless in short slacks and shirtless in a cooking apron adorned with flowers of faded colouring.
One hand suppressed a yawn and travelled up to rub his scruffy short hair as the other blindly groped for the red salt and purple pepper which he dutifully applied in liberal amounts.

The smell changed becoming sweeter and laced with the sting of capsaicin. It made his tail twitch as he inhaled deep and felt his mouth water and his stomach wake up to greet it.

Gentle hums came from his thin lips and danced in the air as his mood perked, barely audible under the hiss of sizzle in the pan.

From the window the first gentle rays of morning were beginning to warm the sky and invaded the dark of Crobhear's kitchen.
The only other light was the burning stove which never truly went out and he had stoked back to life in the dark.

The quiet hours was where he felt he worked best and when he liked the world most.
For all his companionship in Cass and Otho and the others, Voe had long considered himself a solitary creature in his heart of hearts.

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

Having assumed that the least accessible shelves of the library would be the likeliest spot where any books of miscellany not of immediate interest to the Yaegir's work might be found, Vel'duith spent most of the wee hours scaling bookcases, plumbing the dustiest, most cobwebbed shelves, extracting a few volumes, and then returning to a corner table lit by a solitary candle to skim. The notebook she was currently paging through had just started to seem promising: a scholar with the whimsical name of Wiki had apparently tried to catalogue all the myriad faiths of Arethil. She had yet to find a word about the gods of her own people, but the current chapter spoke of three surface gods called the "Trinity of Light." One of these - the second-goddess, Vel'duith smirked to herself - seemed a nearly complete analogue of Sse'elah. The notebook described a silver-haired darthiir woman whose portfolio comprised moonlight, magic, and wisdom. The passage spoke of how she would seldom intervene directly, but rather motivate followers to help themselves. Why, even her name - Seelah - is so remarkably similar... Just as Vel'duith began to read about Tancred, god of the sun, the first ray of dawn rudely struck her face from the east-facing window. How fitting that the blinding sun is apparently ruled by some we’ha-whol-ak’nen jal'uk! Grimacing and squinting against the unwelcome sunbeam, Vel'duith closed the book with a sour thump and rose from her chair with an audible scrape of wood on stone. Her stomach grumbled insistently, reminding her that she hadn't eaten all day.

Not knowing what exactly surfacers subsisted on, the short, wand-slender drow walked back to the barracks to fetch out her spice-pouch and some provisions she had foraged the day before last from her pack. Nothing fancy; in fact, quite the contrary: a corner-nibbled slab of arantym, a shelf-mushroom also known as 'ripplebark,' that resembled nothing so much as a sickly half-dried fillet of cadaver flesh, and a shy half-handful of spicy fire-lichen. Just as she considered the best way to combine them for an impromptu meal, she suddenly caught the faint scent of a cooking-odor... of course! -surely this stronghold would have a stove or oven of some fashion. Gamey and rather put-offish when eaten raw, arantym toasted in some fat or other was a different meal altogether, indeed, a comfort food for many drow commoners. Commoners like Orebith, who first showed me how to find it. Vel'duith preemptively began rubbing her temples vigorously, lest another unexpected reverie suddenly haunt her.

Vel'duith pulled on her wide-brimmed spidersilk hat, put her ingredients and spice-pouch into a sack, and began following her nose through the keep's hallways, looking perhaps somewhat comical as she walked through the halls, feet crudely wrapped in corded silk, sniffing the air every so often. After a moment, she hardly needed to try to find the richly pungent aroma: some manner of bloody marrow, some type of tallow, a bit strange to her nose, being cooked with an equally unfamiliar smelling meat, yet there was also a delightful twinge of spice laced throughout the carnal odors: the kitchen must lay just ahead.

The drow opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind her. Scanning the room, her nose wrinkled a bit at the sunlight spilling from the east-facing window, but yes, this was indeed the source of the aromas. The man cooking bore an air of the Hells about him - as well as horns and a tail - why, quite likely a tiefling, humming softly to himself as he tended a panful of frying meats. Vel'duith's mind flooded with questions - she had read so much about the Hells, but most of the writings either dealt with methods of contacting specific denizens, the perils of negotiating infernal contracts, or describing the horrors a denizen from the prime might face upon entry to the nether planes themselves, but this fellow's lived experience was likely much more varied than all of that, at least one might hope. And now I'm staring at his tail. Vel'duith shook her head at herself, set her sack on a table, cleared her throat, and stepped forward, opening her palms and inclining her head toward Voe in greeting.

Voe

 

[Voe]

"Woah wow!"

Voe jumped as if he had been stung. Much as Vel'duith did not mean to sneak up on him he was blissfully unaware of her entering.
So he now stood half hunched in fright, catching his breath next tho the still sizzling pan. A spat held extended as if it could ward off evil itself.

"Whaaat the... sacred... waters... are you doing sneaking about?"

Yellow eyes locked onto Vel'duith and then bounced from her to the floor and back to the countertop where he held onto it for fear he might collapse.

"You scared the stuffing out of me!"
Half laughing and half scolding he took the pan off the job to avoid a burn and let relief settle within him but it quickly became replaced by a deepening blue in his cheeks.
Voe had assumed nobody would be awake to see him so... undressed.

"What um... what, are... you... doing... here?"
He turned his body so that the apron covering concealed the most of him.

Vel'duith Voiryn

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

The dark elf stood unfazed by the abrupt clamor of the tiefling's jolt and cry of surprise - it was hardly the first time she had caught someone unawares, after all - although she couldn't help broadening the half-smile on her thin lips into a bemused smirk.

"Why, if merely walking the halls from the barracks to the kitchen amounts to 'sneaking about' on the surface, the Yaegirs have greater need of me than I ever dared think."

Her smirk broadened as he turned and almost shrunk blushing behind his apron. She languidly stalked to the table where her sack of ingredients sat, piercing garnet eyes locked onto her audience's face.

"Your suspicions are well-founded, Hells-son! I have indeed hatched a most dastardly plot."

She abruptly seized ahold of the sack, holding it tightly closed.

"Here, I have a victim! -seized completely unaware from a dark shadow of the Underrealm. It has lately stopped squealing and wriggling...."

Vel'duith soured her expression, in mocking imitation of her ever-pernicious mother's usual greeting-face..

"Since it will no longer entertain my cruel whims, I now mean to...."

The drow suddenly whipped the nibble-edged slab of ripplebark from the sack with a dramatic flourish and a broadly grinning mad cackle.

"...cook it for my breakfast! Assuming your esteemed self is done with the stove, of course. I shouldn't like to deprive a devil of any degree his own bloody victim-breakfast, after all."

Voe

 

[Voe]

Voe managed to avoid backing away as Vel'duith approached. Not for fear but for shame he kept the apron fronting.

"Well typically there's no problem with those we invite inside... typically."
He let a bit of bite into the word as he scraped the venison from the skillet and let it land on a slightly stale piece of garlic bread from the previous nights meal.

"I have a name, Vel'duith, I'd appreciate you using it."
She'd hit a nerve, most likely without meaning to but she had regardless. Voe had worked hard to be seen as anything but a devil.

Quickly he passed the skillet to Vel'duith and pulled his plate towards himself to begin eating.
"There's still fat in there, you can use it."

Still facing Vel'duith he took a bite and chewed, it was gamey but he liked that about it and casually began to watch his unexpected company cook as his tail twitched behind him.
Maybe he'd learn something.

Vel'duith Voiryn

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

The dark elf grimaced at the admonishment- her silly attempt to break the ice had fallen worse than flat. She set the slab of under-mushroom back on the table and repeated her earlier gesture of empty palms and inclined head.

"I apologize, ser, for giving you offense. I shall of course use your name forthwith - well, once you have shared it with me."

Voe

 

[Voe]

That apology was a bit formal for Voe's tastes, perhaps he overdid it.
"It's alright, I mean... it's not like..."

His free hand gestured to his horns, green nubs that sat along his hairline.

"... there's no reason for it. I just prefer my name is all. It's Voe and you are Vel'duith. Only just arrived right? I caught your display during the windstorm the other night."

Idly he placed his hands into the apron pocket for something to do with them.
"It was striking, were you praying?"

Admittedly Voe knew little of such things. The Gods and their names meant little to him but he was often curious.

Vel'duith Voiryn

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

Vel'duith nodded, her Mona Lisa half-smile reforming on her lips. She finished her gesture of apology with a flourish of her hands, gracefully resuming her usual languid, easy posture.

"Voe it is, then. I suppose I had - hastily and rather ironically - assumed that a tiefling might have grown every bit as laconic toward the wary reactions of others as I have. So far, the generally frosty welcome seems to be the only detail about the surface and those living upon it that our yathrin didn't completely lie about! And it isn't as though we drow tend to go about trusting even one other at first, second, or even fiftieth meeting, so fair is fair."

She accepted the proffered frying-pan, lightly swirling the spiced fat and inhaling the aroma.

"Voe, whatever you have added to this pan smells divine! Yet I see no mince of fire-lichen within... Whatever do you add to achieve such a glorious fragrance, delightful smokiness, and the beckoning promise of heat?"

She nodded thoughtfully as the tiefling asked about her doings atop the platform.

"Indeed I was! I felt it prudent to offer up a prayer to my goddess, Sse'elah, in thanks of her saving me from a horrible fate, and guiding me hither. And then her glorious moonlight fell upon me in answer! I suppose I may have gotten a bit carried away, O Voe, exulting in it all. I very nearly managed to freeze myself to the icy boards. I shall certainly have to see about purchasing some warmer attire, as well as some manner of shoes. The trek to surface was too much to ask from my faithful old slippers, it seems... ah! I should remember to go fetch their remains from the bath later. It would not do to be thought a careless litterer as well as an untrustworthy sneak, should report reach the warden."

She placed the pan back onto the stove, pulled her dagger out, and began slicing the disgusting-looking shelf of ripplebark into neat, diagonal fillets about 3/4 inch thick. Taking another whiff of the pan, she quartered the pile of fire-lichen before mincing it, sweeping the remaining unminced portion back into her bag.

Voe

 

[Voe]

"Well, up here at least, you're a rare sight. Maybe as rare as me or Melfa and I've found that most surfacers take appearance seriously. At best you might be a curiosity and at worst well..."
He did not feel he needed to elaborate.

"Red salt and purple pepper mostly but I added blood to the fat to cook. It smokes well."
Came the answer to Vel'duith's question.

Another bite and long chew came before he opened his mouth again. The tone of his voice was more cheerful, speaking of food did that to him and it gave him time to listen.

The idea that the moon answered her felt pretty far fetched to him but but he kept it to himself. Folk were entitled to their beliefs as far as he was concerned.

"Yes, it does get colder out here. Especially this time of year. A good pair of boots pays for itself."
Voe suddenly became aware again of his own smile nude state.

"I'm glad you didn't catch a chill."

Vel'duith Voiryn

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

Melfa...? While she had yet to hear the name in clear association with a person, proceeding from the context in which it was dropped, Vel'duith's thoughts swiftly leapt to the towering dragon-woman who had lately arrived, who certainly looked as though she would draw attention on the surface, in the Underrealm, or truly anywhere she might venture.

"Is Melfa that tall, splendidly muscular, flame-coughing woman with the spiraling horns who came in with the large hunting-party?"

Once the pan resumed smoking, Vel'duith sprinkled in her mince, letting the fungus sizzle and sweat, releasing its own heat and spicy aroma into the mix. Then she started dropping the filets of shelf-mushroom in. Their odor began almost smelling of the insoles of well-worn boots, but as the fillets started sweating into the pan, their aroma took on a complex mixture of earthy, nutty, and savory tones as they toasted in the hot, spicy oil.

"Salts, like mineral salts? We only ever get surface flavors at the very grandest banquets, and very likely cooked in much different ways. The chefs' very lives depend on the first-family's surprise and delight, after all, so variety, ambition, and adventure must reign over mere complementary matchings of flavors! Venoms that tingle, then numb the tongue after the initial tasting, only to be restored again mid-bouquet by just the right amount of antivenom! -that is but one example. I of course make no claims to cook as flamboyantly as all that... simple soups, pan fries, mostly just from mushrooms of varied sorts, perhaps a few juicy morsels or scraps of meat now and then, carved in my turn from whatever tunnel-horror chose the wrong House-relative to hunt."

She deftly flipped the fillets over to toast the other sides before continuing.

"And purple pepper... is that some manner of vegetable? I have read that certain vegetable seeds are used as spices on the surface. I should very much like to see what this purple pepper looks like before prepared."

After a brief moment, she slid the fillets onto a plate, immediately slicing a corner and skewering it on dagger-tip to take a dainty nibble at.

"You are welcome to a piece if you like; I do not believe ripplebark as 'tis usually called is considered poisonous to any races, at any rate. You'd never find it on a table in the Upper-Undercity, but in all the netherparts below, 'tis both an uncouth but sustaining staple to nibble at raw, and a warm, comforting succor when toasted up in bluecap oil or whatever tasty fat commoners might luck into. For my own part, I brought some home from my tunnel-jaunts now and then, as much to irk Mother as to enjoy such a scandalously lowbrow treat."

Taking a slightly larger bite, she brought her plate to a table, sitting upon a stool.

"By any chance, did you come by such warm clothes or fine boots as you speak of here, from the quartermaster? Or are there merchants or artisans of such goods within the keep, or quite close by?"

Her garnet-hued eyes, now quite curious, rested upon the tiefling's face. So many questions I might ask! -but perhaps best to see what comes out of its own, lest I carelessly rankle again.

Voe

 

[Voe]

"It's gathered from the Red River, it flows with salt from the mountains. Unusual for surface rivers, maybe unique."
Voe took another bite and chewed it in his cheek, speaking as he went.

"The purple pepper is imported, somewhere east of here I think. There should be some still around..."
Wandering, he took from the counter and padded to a pile of wooden crates on the shelf by the wall unaware he was displaying his back for a moment.
"Aha, here."
His tail twitched as he produced a withered purple pepper, In essence it resembled a green pepper but of a different hue.

Returning Voe put it on the counter next to the hob.
"The bulb is good too."

At her offer Voe politely passed with a gesture.
"Another time, I already stained my tongue so I wouldn't taste it all anyway. You enjoy."

She told a story then, this stranger opened up to him. It felt good, it always felt good.
"There's a few who come to trade on and off seasons, the rest we need to go out looking for but if you're lucky there may yet be some in the stores if you don't mind beating the musty smell from them."

Finishing his own meal he put the plate down again and wiped his hands on the apron, reluctant to take it off.

"But I don't feel the cold as most do. Hot blooded, you might say. Perfect for keeping watch on cold nights and chilly mornings. Don't tell Melfa, I like my full night's rest."
After he said it Voe wondered if he was joking or not but dismissed the thought. It had no place then and there.

Vel'duith Voiryn

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

Vel'duith nodded, listening intently as the tiefling discussed the provenance of the salt and pepper he had used, making mental notes to jot down when she next got back to her notebook and quill. She was eating more quickly now, though still in a practiced, relaxed, methodical fashion, taking care not to wolf or appear to hurry. She was just hungry, and the shelf-mushroom was quite good toasted in that mélange of surface oil, spice, and lichen-mince.

"Ah!", the dark elf exclaimed as Voe produced the wrinkled pepper. "Is that desiccated, then, to intensify the flavor? Or mayhap dried... under light of the sun? -I do apologize, Voe, if such a notion seems strange. I read it in a book once and thought it fanciful, myself. Why, what if bats, or birds dropped their..." She gestured absently a second, searching for the best word, before shrugging and just using her own. "...iblith upon it whilst drying? Or some animal or other came along and purloined it as fairly found?"

She nodded again, smirking a bit at Voe's polite refusal of the toasted ripplebark. "Ah well, then. More for me, I suppose! I meant to ask earlier, Voe, what manner of surface beast was your breakfast carved from? My nose had never before made its acquaintance. Truly it was the spicy strain of the aroma that led me to find the kitchen, more than anything, but I am ever curious about culinary matters, particularly within other traditions and customs. I suspect that dietary variety may prove hard to come by in such an apparently remote stronghold such as this keep, so such hints may prove as valuable to one's palate as coins of gold and silver to one's purse."

Reaching the last filet on her plate, Vel'duith portioned it deliberately, frowning a bit at hearing her apparent prospects for re-attiring herself. Most likely sized for a cretok, and nearly as smelly. Her own feet seemed quite a bit smaller and daintier than any she had seen here. Though, if there were a size to sit long in a barracks-store awaiting a wearer, it was generally for the smallest and the tallest, in her limited experience. The mental image of her wearing a clownishly oversized raid-suit started to form in her mind, before she hurriedly dug into her temples, sternly massaging that about-to-turn-dreadful flashback away. Perhaps Sigrun was correct in thinking me gone mad after all...

"Don't mind me - merely a symptom of the daylight to one unused to such a brilliant ambiance, I suppose. I do thank you, Voe, for the delightful conversation, useful information, and the lesson learned."

Finishing the last morsel, she licked her lips with a satisfied flicker of the tongue, then produced a muslin kerchief from a hidden pocket among her robes to dab her mouth clean, before secreting it away again. After rising, collecting the sack, and wiping the tabletop clean, she rolled up and re-secreted the kerchief, the repeated her gesture of open palms and slight inclination of her head.

"I look forward to our next conversation, abban; especially if it should deal with food! May your labor this day prove profitable."

Voe

 

[Voe]

Voe stepped forward.
"Woah, wow, wait no. That's not good."

He spoke of the sun's effect on her. He had seen some monsters suffer similarly.
"But it makes sense."

When he got up close he looked at her eyes, really looked. It was staring into red stars. Very unlike anything he'd seen above ground.
"Subterranean life means the sun must be unbearable for you."
It reminded him of snow blindness. How the abundance of reflected light on ice covered landscapes can overwhelm the eye and cause all manner of issues.

"That could be a problem, have you lost any vision?"
His demeanor has changed, Voe was working now.

Vel'duith Voiryn

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

Vel’duith took a reflexive half-step backward as Voe abruptly stepped toward her, arching a snowy eyebrow quizzically. Her posture relaxed again just as quickly, after realizing that he meant no harm. The pupils of her eyes were indeed like pencil points in the indirect sunlight.

“If I manage to catch it head-on, yes, Tancred’s burning orb can be quite unbearable. Why, I nearly staggered right off a cliff when I first stepped out straight into its full brilliance yesterday-morn!”

Her thin lips pulled into a broad grin, and her eyes flashed almost maniacally as she dramatically circled the table before facing the tiefling again to continue:

“But, I had an idea, Voe, whilst reading in the library, for a dwoemer to lay upon my hat, dimming the light passing just under the brim! I think that such a dweomer, in combination with a little more care on my part to mind the orb’s apparently constant path throughout the day - that is constant from one day to the next, I hope? - why, Voe, I think I should be able to manage it. I shall simply need to powder some moonstone and grind a bit of silverdust to prepare the brim for the enchantment… Is there, by any chance, a laboratory of some sort within this keep?”

Voe