A dwarf sat bottling his slime in clear, clean glass, every now and then stopping to hold it up to the light and swirl it, apparently checking its consistency; perhaps the lights of the glowing vine-fruits above were not too dim for a dwarf to see by, as he could apparently do his task without squinting. Ever so often he would stir the great pot (pan?) over his cookfire. First muttering "...viscosity, slight bubbles, two layers.... needs three more days, two maybe....." then, "come on now, this is like bathwater, let's do better, buck up! How will the noodles cook?", it was easy to see he was very busy indeed.
Suddenly, an adventurer, carefully observing from a distance, would notice the dwarf's bright eyes focused directly on.... them!
"Well now, how long are you going to stand there? Your legs must be tired and you must be hungry! If you're not too proud to sit with an old dwarf like me, come and pull up a seat and we'll get you a bowl served as soon as you're warm. I'm Senshi. The dungeon is cold these nights, isn't it?"
The dwarf companionably gestures to a log sitting on the ground nearby, and gently stirs the pot with his ladle as he makes comfortable conversation, asking questions about tastes, allergies, and what an adventurer like you is doing so far down here so late.
Slowly, other guests make their way to the little gathering, some offering up a spare ingredient that gets questioned or exclaimed over before being added to the pot.
If you don't mind a little monster food, this is the place for you!
Suddenly, an adventurer, carefully observing from a distance, would notice the dwarf's bright eyes focused directly on.... them!
"Well now, how long are you going to stand there? Your legs must be tired and you must be hungry! If you're not too proud to sit with an old dwarf like me, come and pull up a seat and we'll get you a bowl served as soon as you're warm. I'm Senshi. The dungeon is cold these nights, isn't it?"
The dwarf companionably gestures to a log sitting on the ground nearby, and gently stirs the pot with his ladle as he makes comfortable conversation, asking questions about tastes, allergies, and what an adventurer like you is doing so far down here so late.
Slowly, other guests make their way to the little gathering, some offering up a spare ingredient that gets questioned or exclaimed over before being added to the pot.
If you don't mind a little monster food, this is the place for you!
The echo of her footsteps was soft against the stone, her lantern casting a golden glow along the tunnel walls. The deeper she walked, the more she wondered if her sense of direction had taken leave. The faint smell of woodsmoke and something savory reached her next, curling through the cool air like an invitation.
When she turned the corner and saw the dwarf hunched over his bubbling pot, her hand instinctively went to the small dagger at her hip. But the sight of him stirring and muttering about viscosity made her pause, curiosity quickly winning over caution. “Good evening,” she said, her voice carrying that practiced grace that could charm a crowd or a court. “I must confess, I did not expect to find culinary experimentation in a dungeon.”
The firelight caught on the silver of her hairpin as she stepped closer, eyeing the pot with both fascination and mild concern. “It smells,” she hesitated delicately, “mysterious. Is this what brave adventurers are meant to dine on down here, or are you testing the limits of what the human stomach can endure?”
Her tone was teasing, though her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity. She approached the offered log and smoothed her skirts before sitting, every movement precise despite the uneven ground.
“I’m Princess Rose,” she added, inclining her head. “Though you may simply call me Rose, if titles make your soup curdle.” A faint smile curved her lips as she peered toward the cauldron again. “You did say it was edible, didn’t you?”
When she turned the corner and saw the dwarf hunched over his bubbling pot, her hand instinctively went to the small dagger at her hip. But the sight of him stirring and muttering about viscosity made her pause, curiosity quickly winning over caution. “Good evening,” she said, her voice carrying that practiced grace that could charm a crowd or a court. “I must confess, I did not expect to find culinary experimentation in a dungeon.”
The firelight caught on the silver of her hairpin as she stepped closer, eyeing the pot with both fascination and mild concern. “It smells,” she hesitated delicately, “mysterious. Is this what brave adventurers are meant to dine on down here, or are you testing the limits of what the human stomach can endure?”
Her tone was teasing, though her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity. She approached the offered log and smoothed her skirts before sitting, every movement precise despite the uneven ground.
“I’m Princess Rose,” she added, inclining her head. “Though you may simply call me Rose, if titles make your soup curdle.” A faint smile curved her lips as she peered toward the cauldron again. “You did say it was edible, didn’t you?”
Princess Rose wrote:
The echo of her footsteps was soft against the stone, her lantern casting a golden glow along the tunnel walls. The deeper she walked, the more she wondered if her sense of direction had taken leave. The faint smell of woodsmoke and something savory reached her next, curling through the cool air like an invitation.
When she turned the corner and saw the dwarf hunched over his bubbling pot, her hand instinctively went to the small dagger at her hip. But the sight of him stirring and muttering about viscosity made her pause, curiosity quickly winning over caution. “Good evening,” she said, her voice carrying that practiced grace that could charm a crowd or a court. “I must confess, I did not expect to find culinary experimentation in a dungeon.”
The firelight caught on the silver of her hairpin as she stepped closer, eyeing the pot with both fascination and mild concern. “It smells,” she hesitated delicately, “mysterious. Is this what brave adventurers are meant to dine on down here, or are you testing the limits of what the human stomach can endure?”
Her tone was teasing, though her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity. She approached the offered log and smoothed her skirts before sitting, every movement precise despite the uneven ground.
“I’m Princess Rose,” she added, inclining her head. “Though you may simply call me Rose, if titles make your soup curdle.” A faint smile curved her lips as she peered toward the cauldron again. “You did say it was edible, didn’t you?”
When she turned the corner and saw the dwarf hunched over his bubbling pot, her hand instinctively went to the small dagger at her hip. But the sight of him stirring and muttering about viscosity made her pause, curiosity quickly winning over caution. “Good evening,” she said, her voice carrying that practiced grace that could charm a crowd or a court. “I must confess, I did not expect to find culinary experimentation in a dungeon.”
The firelight caught on the silver of her hairpin as she stepped closer, eyeing the pot with both fascination and mild concern. “It smells,” she hesitated delicately, “mysterious. Is this what brave adventurers are meant to dine on down here, or are you testing the limits of what the human stomach can endure?”
Her tone was teasing, though her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity. She approached the offered log and smoothed her skirts before sitting, every movement precise despite the uneven ground.
“I’m Princess Rose,” she added, inclining her head. “Though you may simply call me Rose, if titles make your soup curdle.” A faint smile curved her lips as she peered toward the cauldron again. “You did say it was edible, didn’t you?”
The dwarf beamed at the adventurer, answering her questions eagerly. "Hello, Princess Rose! Pleasure to make your acquaintance. It's been, uh... a while since I saw any royal folks! I guess we're all common adventurers here in the dungeon, when it comes down to it." He observed her for a few long seconds, taking in her glittering jewelry, clean features, and flowing garment. He gave a brisk but firm nod of respect. "I'm happy to meet another traveler who's interested in the art of dungeon food! You get what you give, down here, so a lot of effort will reward you well. It's no easy task, but it's an honest way of life!"
Wiping some sweat off his brow, and standing up to fan some of the campfire's smoke away from the princess, the dwarf paused for a few moments before he continued speaking, and fastidiously stirring the broth.
"I believe it's delicious, as well as edible, but that's because you reap what you sow! I respect the food I cook, and that means minimal waste of the ingredients! But that doesn't mean nutrients are the only important part. Dwarves, humans, elves, adventurers and princesses like you, Princess Rose, we all have similar constitutions, and we all need food. It's the fuel that regenerates our energy and our bodily functions, fuels our mental processes, and gives us strength for our journeys and replenishing rests. Food is not just for the body, but for the mind! There's a feeling you get when you eat good food that is totally unmatched. And since I give what I get, too, like the monsters, it's important that the food be palatable for the tastes of others, not just myself! Taking that into consideration, I'll accept your feedback, if you accept a bowl of something new."
Senshi sat back down on his log and poured a small taster of the broth. He sipped it with his eyes closed, and breathed out a rumbling "Hmm...."
After several seconds his eyes popped back open and he decided "it needs a few moments, but it will finish cooking in the bowl."
Pouring a generous ladle of noodles, mushrooms, deep brown broth, spicy red oil, and an orange creamy-cloudy substance, and then ladling once more for two pieces of well-cooked meat to go on top of the dish, Senshi carefully held out the bowl in offering.
The princess curtsied lightly, one hand lifting the edge of her traveling skirts to keep them clear of the damp earth. “A pleasure indeed, Master Senshi,” she said with a warm smile. “And please, do not stand on ceremony for me. You are right. Down here, titles matter far less than kindness and a steady hand with the fire.”
She watched him work, fascinated by the way he stirred the broth as though it were a sacred ritual. She appreciated the reverence in his voice when he spoke of food as both nourishment and art. “You speak of cooking the way my tutors spoke of swordplay,” she mused, tilting her head. “Discipline, respect, and heart. I think I could learn much from that.”
When the steaming bowl was offered, she accepted it with both hands, bowing her head slightly. The scent that rose was rich and comforting, the sort of aroma that belonged in a story told beside a fire. “It smells heavenly,” she said softly. “If I were at court, I would have half a dozen tasters to try it first, but I suspect none would appreciate it as much as I will.”
She blew gently across the surface before taking a cautious sip. Her eyes widened, then brightened with delight. “Oh! It’s marvelous! It’s bold and honest, with just enough spice to wake the senses. You’ve truly captured the spirit of adventure in a bowl, Master Senshi.”
Looking up from her meal, she added, her tone touched with laughter, “If this is what dungeon cuisine tastes like, I may never go back to royal banquets again.”
The firelight caught in her hair as she smiled. “You remind me that strength and gentleness can share the same flame. Thank you for this gift.”
She watched him work, fascinated by the way he stirred the broth as though it were a sacred ritual. She appreciated the reverence in his voice when he spoke of food as both nourishment and art. “You speak of cooking the way my tutors spoke of swordplay,” she mused, tilting her head. “Discipline, respect, and heart. I think I could learn much from that.”
When the steaming bowl was offered, she accepted it with both hands, bowing her head slightly. The scent that rose was rich and comforting, the sort of aroma that belonged in a story told beside a fire. “It smells heavenly,” she said softly. “If I were at court, I would have half a dozen tasters to try it first, but I suspect none would appreciate it as much as I will.”
She blew gently across the surface before taking a cautious sip. Her eyes widened, then brightened with delight. “Oh! It’s marvelous! It’s bold and honest, with just enough spice to wake the senses. You’ve truly captured the spirit of adventure in a bowl, Master Senshi.”
Looking up from her meal, she added, her tone touched with laughter, “If this is what dungeon cuisine tastes like, I may never go back to royal banquets again.”
The firelight caught in her hair as she smiled. “You remind me that strength and gentleness can share the same flame. Thank you for this gift.”
Princess Rose wrote:
The princess curtsied lightly, one hand lifting the edge of her traveling skirts to keep them clear of the damp earth. “A pleasure indeed, Master Senshi,” she said with a warm smile. “And please, do not stand on ceremony for me. You are right. Down here, titles matter far less than kindness and a steady hand with the fire.”
She watched him work, fascinated by the way he stirred the broth as though it were a sacred ritual. She appreciated the reverence in his voice when he spoke of food as both nourishment and art. “You speak of cooking the way my tutors spoke of swordplay,” she mused, tilting her head. “Discipline, respect, and heart. I think I could learn much from that.”
When the steaming bowl was offered, she accepted it with both hands, bowing her head slightly. The scent that rose was rich and comforting, the sort of aroma that belonged in a story told beside a fire. “It smells heavenly,” she said softly. “If I were at court, I would have half a dozen tasters to try it first, but I suspect none would appreciate it as much as I will.”
She blew gently across the surface before taking a cautious sip. Her eyes widened, then brightened with delight. “Oh! It’s marvelous! It’s bold and honest, with just enough spice to wake the senses. You’ve truly captured the spirit of adventure in a bowl, Master Senshi.”
Looking up from her meal, she added, her tone touched with laughter, “If this is what dungeon cuisine tastes like, I may never go back to royal banquets again.”
The firelight caught in her hair as she smiled. “You remind me that strength and gentleness can share the same flame. Thank you for this gift.”
She watched him work, fascinated by the way he stirred the broth as though it were a sacred ritual. She appreciated the reverence in his voice when he spoke of food as both nourishment and art. “You speak of cooking the way my tutors spoke of swordplay,” she mused, tilting her head. “Discipline, respect, and heart. I think I could learn much from that.”
When the steaming bowl was offered, she accepted it with both hands, bowing her head slightly. The scent that rose was rich and comforting, the sort of aroma that belonged in a story told beside a fire. “It smells heavenly,” she said softly. “If I were at court, I would have half a dozen tasters to try it first, but I suspect none would appreciate it as much as I will.”
She blew gently across the surface before taking a cautious sip. Her eyes widened, then brightened with delight. “Oh! It’s marvelous! It’s bold and honest, with just enough spice to wake the senses. You’ve truly captured the spirit of adventure in a bowl, Master Senshi.”
Looking up from her meal, she added, her tone touched with laughter, “If this is what dungeon cuisine tastes like, I may never go back to royal banquets again.”
The firelight caught in her hair as she smiled. “You remind me that strength and gentleness can share the same flame. Thank you for this gift.”
The dwarf sniffed proudly. Though he blushed at the compliments, he certainly didn't disagree when he said, bashfully, "I've known some great swordsmiths in my time, and a couple of swordmasters too. It's an admirable art."
When the princess remarked on the soup, Senshi practically glowed red. "Thank you, your Highness, it's very kind of you to say so. It's certainly not a royal feast, but they do say enough is as good as... studying monsters is something of my passion, so it's wonderful to hear such pleasant things. You're welcome to take home the recipe, if you like... but it really changes every day." He chuckled. "I wouldn't recommend going without fresh vegetables for too long, but it shows a hardy spirit that you're so willing to venture into new grounds of flavors! I have to say I'm impressed."
Sighing and stretching his legs, Senshi rummaged around his belongings, and added more water from a leather flask into the pot, and then threw in a sparkling pinch of salt. The mysterious wind whistled around the corridors, and rhe wood amd stone creaked faintly.
"Don't worry," He said comfortably, "no ghosts on this floor. You can sleep whenever the need takes you, I have a special alarm rigged up for the night."
((Sorry for the long response time! I had a busy couple of days, but I'm back now.))
Princess Rose lifted the bowl with both hands, savoring the warmth that seeped through the ceramic. The aroma was earthy and rich, the kind of scent that lingered long after a meal ended. “You sell yourself short,” she said with a gentle smile, her voice carrying the poise of royalty but the warmth of someone long removed from courtly formality. “If this isn’t a royal feast, then the palace has been missing out.”
She took another slow sip, the broth bright and savory, the heat blooming across her lips. “And as for recipes, perhaps that’s what makes yours so special. A little different each day, yet never wrong. Like the best kind of adventure.”
Setting the bowl lightly upon her lap, she regarded him with quiet admiration. “You remind me of my old swordmaster,” she admitted, eyes bright with nostalgia. “He said perfection was found in patience and practice, not pride. You seem to understand that better than most.”
When the wind stirred through the cavern, her gaze lifted toward the darkened corridor. The faint sound of creaking wood echoed like a whisper, and for an instant she thought she caught a glimmer of movement. But Senshi’s calm voice drew her attention back.
“No ghosts?” she repeated softly, a playful note in her tone. “Pity. I rather like the company of spirits, so long as they’re polite.” She leaned forward just slightly, the faintest sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Still, I’ll trust your alarm system over a haunted lullaby.”
Lifting her bowl again, she nodded toward him in a gesture of quiet respect. “Thank you, Senshi. For the food, and for the peace of this place. Both are rare treasures in a world so quick to rush.” Her smile deepened, gentle and sincere. “If I dream tonight, I hope it smells of your stew.”
Finishing the last sip, Rose set the empty bowl beside her with care. “But I should not take advantage of your hospitality for too long,” she said softly. “The road ahead is long, and dawn waits for no one.” She rose gracefully, gathering her cloak as the light of the fire danced in her hair. “You’ve given me warmth and rest, and for that, you have my gratitude.”
(Thank you for a warm, clean, and detailed experience. It was a pleasure interacting with you!)
She took another slow sip, the broth bright and savory, the heat blooming across her lips. “And as for recipes, perhaps that’s what makes yours so special. A little different each day, yet never wrong. Like the best kind of adventure.”
Setting the bowl lightly upon her lap, she regarded him with quiet admiration. “You remind me of my old swordmaster,” she admitted, eyes bright with nostalgia. “He said perfection was found in patience and practice, not pride. You seem to understand that better than most.”
When the wind stirred through the cavern, her gaze lifted toward the darkened corridor. The faint sound of creaking wood echoed like a whisper, and for an instant she thought she caught a glimmer of movement. But Senshi’s calm voice drew her attention back.
“No ghosts?” she repeated softly, a playful note in her tone. “Pity. I rather like the company of spirits, so long as they’re polite.” She leaned forward just slightly, the faintest sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Still, I’ll trust your alarm system over a haunted lullaby.”
Lifting her bowl again, she nodded toward him in a gesture of quiet respect. “Thank you, Senshi. For the food, and for the peace of this place. Both are rare treasures in a world so quick to rush.” Her smile deepened, gentle and sincere. “If I dream tonight, I hope it smells of your stew.”
Finishing the last sip, Rose set the empty bowl beside her with care. “But I should not take advantage of your hospitality for too long,” she said softly. “The road ahead is long, and dawn waits for no one.” She rose gracefully, gathering her cloak as the light of the fire danced in her hair. “You’ve given me warmth and rest, and for that, you have my gratitude.”
(Thank you for a warm, clean, and detailed experience. It was a pleasure interacting with you!)
[Occ: I love this show!!!! I also love Senshi!]
Declan lingered at the edge of the glow, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his jacket. The smell of simmering broth mingled with the faint musk of damp stone and firewood, and for a moment he simply watched—the easy rhythm of the dwarf’s motions, the way he spoke to his bubbling pot as though it were an old friend.
“Guess I’ve been caught,” he said finally, voice carrying that low, unhurried drawl that never quite gave away whether he was amused or just tired. Stepping closer, his eyes flicked from the ladle to the steaming mixture, curiosity edging past his usual restraint. “Didn’t think I’d find hospitality this far underground. Or someone who could make slime sound… appetizing.”
He settled onto the offered log, stretching his legs out toward the fire. The warmth worked its way into his bones, easing the stiffness from too many miles on foot. When Senshi asked his questions, Declan gave a small shrug, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“No allergies. Nothing fancy either. Long as it’s warm and it won’t bite back, I’m good.” He paused, glancing at the other faces slowly gathering near the pot. “Been walking a while. Looking for something I’m not sure exists anymore. Maybe a quiet place to stop thinking for five minutes.”
His gaze drifted toward the flames, eyes catching the reflection of the molten light. “Smells better than most taverns topside, though. You always cook for strays, or am I just lucky tonight?”
Declan lingered at the edge of the glow, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his jacket. The smell of simmering broth mingled with the faint musk of damp stone and firewood, and for a moment he simply watched—the easy rhythm of the dwarf’s motions, the way he spoke to his bubbling pot as though it were an old friend.
“Guess I’ve been caught,” he said finally, voice carrying that low, unhurried drawl that never quite gave away whether he was amused or just tired. Stepping closer, his eyes flicked from the ladle to the steaming mixture, curiosity edging past his usual restraint. “Didn’t think I’d find hospitality this far underground. Or someone who could make slime sound… appetizing.”
He settled onto the offered log, stretching his legs out toward the fire. The warmth worked its way into his bones, easing the stiffness from too many miles on foot. When Senshi asked his questions, Declan gave a small shrug, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“No allergies. Nothing fancy either. Long as it’s warm and it won’t bite back, I’m good.” He paused, glancing at the other faces slowly gathering near the pot. “Been walking a while. Looking for something I’m not sure exists anymore. Maybe a quiet place to stop thinking for five minutes.”
His gaze drifted toward the flames, eyes catching the reflection of the molten light. “Smells better than most taverns topside, though. You always cook for strays, or am I just lucky tonight?”
Princess Rose wrote:
Princess Rose lifted the bowl with both hands, savoring the warmth that seeped through the ceramic. The aroma was earthy and rich, the kind of scent that lingered long after a meal ended. “You sell yourself short,” she said with a gentle smile, her voice carrying the poise of royalty but the warmth of someone long removed from courtly formality. “If this isn’t a royal feast, then the palace has been missing out.”
She took another slow sip, the broth bright and savory, the heat blooming across her lips. “And as for recipes, perhaps that’s what makes yours so special. A little different each day, yet never wrong. Like the best kind of adventure.”
Setting the bowl lightly upon her lap, she regarded him with quiet admiration. “You remind me of my old swordmaster,” she admitted, eyes bright with nostalgia. “He said perfection was found in patience and practice, not pride. You seem to understand that better than most.”
When the wind stirred through the cavern, her gaze lifted toward the darkened corridor. The faint sound of creaking wood echoed like a whisper, and for an instant she thought she caught a glimmer of movement. But Senshi’s calm voice drew her attention back.
“No ghosts?” she repeated softly, a playful note in her tone. “Pity. I rather like the company of spirits, so long as they’re polite.” She leaned forward just slightly, the faintest sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Still, I’ll trust your alarm system over a haunted lullaby.”
Lifting her bowl again, she nodded toward him in a gesture of quiet respect. “Thank you, Senshi. For the food, and for the peace of this place. Both are rare treasures in a world so quick to rush.” Her smile deepened, gentle and sincere. “If I dream tonight, I hope it smells of your stew.”
Finishing the last sip, Rose set the empty bowl beside her with care. “But I should not take advantage of your hospitality for too long,” she said softly. “The road ahead is long, and dawn waits for no one.” She rose gracefully, gathering her cloak as the light of the fire danced in her hair. “You’ve given me warmth and rest, and for that, you have my gratitude.”
(Thank you for a warm, clean, and detailed experience. It was a pleasure interacting with you!)
She took another slow sip, the broth bright and savory, the heat blooming across her lips. “And as for recipes, perhaps that’s what makes yours so special. A little different each day, yet never wrong. Like the best kind of adventure.”
Setting the bowl lightly upon her lap, she regarded him with quiet admiration. “You remind me of my old swordmaster,” she admitted, eyes bright with nostalgia. “He said perfection was found in patience and practice, not pride. You seem to understand that better than most.”
When the wind stirred through the cavern, her gaze lifted toward the darkened corridor. The faint sound of creaking wood echoed like a whisper, and for an instant she thought she caught a glimmer of movement. But Senshi’s calm voice drew her attention back.
“No ghosts?” she repeated softly, a playful note in her tone. “Pity. I rather like the company of spirits, so long as they’re polite.” She leaned forward just slightly, the faintest sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Still, I’ll trust your alarm system over a haunted lullaby.”
Lifting her bowl again, she nodded toward him in a gesture of quiet respect. “Thank you, Senshi. For the food, and for the peace of this place. Both are rare treasures in a world so quick to rush.” Her smile deepened, gentle and sincere. “If I dream tonight, I hope it smells of your stew.”
Finishing the last sip, Rose set the empty bowl beside her with care. “But I should not take advantage of your hospitality for too long,” she said softly. “The road ahead is long, and dawn waits for no one.” She rose gracefully, gathering her cloak as the light of the fire danced in her hair. “You’ve given me warmth and rest, and for that, you have my gratitude.”
(Thank you for a warm, clean, and detailed experience. It was a pleasure interacting with you!)
He placed the bowl of soup down as he stood. He bowed once more.
"You have a wise heart and a kind soul, and I'm grateful we were both here to share these moments. Wherever you go, I wish you a good journey. Farewell, Rose!"
He waved as she left, an elegant presence that rustled softly away, surprisingly quick and quiet for the strength of her presence, and strangely small and delicate, for all the steel within the velvet. He was pretty sure he didn't need to worry about her.
((The pleasure is mine! Thanks for your company!))
Declan Evans wrote:
[Occ: I love this show!!!! I also love Senshi!]
Declan lingered at the edge of the glow, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his jacket. The smell of simmering broth mingled with the faint musk of damp stone and firewood, and for a moment he simply watched—the easy rhythm of the dwarf’s motions, the way he spoke to his bubbling pot as though it were an old friend.
“Guess I’ve been caught,” he said finally, voice carrying that low, unhurried drawl that never quite gave away whether he was amused or just tired. Stepping closer, his eyes flicked from the ladle to the steaming mixture, curiosity edging past his usual restraint. “Didn’t think I’d find hospitality this far underground. Or someone who could make slime sound… appetizing.”
He settled onto the offered log, stretching his legs out toward the fire. The warmth worked its way into his bones, easing the stiffness from too many miles on foot. When Senshi asked his questions, Declan gave a small shrug, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“No allergies. Nothing fancy either. Long as it’s warm and it won’t bite back, I’m good.” He paused, glancing at the other faces slowly gathering near the pot. “Been walking a while. Looking for something I’m not sure exists anymore. Maybe a quiet place to stop thinking for five minutes.”
His gaze drifted toward the flames, eyes catching the reflection of the molten light. “Smells better than most taverns topside, though. You always cook for strays, or am I just lucky tonight?”
Declan lingered at the edge of the glow, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his jacket. The smell of simmering broth mingled with the faint musk of damp stone and firewood, and for a moment he simply watched—the easy rhythm of the dwarf’s motions, the way he spoke to his bubbling pot as though it were an old friend.
“Guess I’ve been caught,” he said finally, voice carrying that low, unhurried drawl that never quite gave away whether he was amused or just tired. Stepping closer, his eyes flicked from the ladle to the steaming mixture, curiosity edging past his usual restraint. “Didn’t think I’d find hospitality this far underground. Or someone who could make slime sound… appetizing.”
He settled onto the offered log, stretching his legs out toward the fire. The warmth worked its way into his bones, easing the stiffness from too many miles on foot. When Senshi asked his questions, Declan gave a small shrug, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“No allergies. Nothing fancy either. Long as it’s warm and it won’t bite back, I’m good.” He paused, glancing at the other faces slowly gathering near the pot. “Been walking a while. Looking for something I’m not sure exists anymore. Maybe a quiet place to stop thinking for five minutes.”
His gaze drifted toward the flames, eyes catching the reflection of the molten light. “Smells better than most taverns topside, though. You always cook for strays, or am I just lucky tonight?”
Senshi chuckled. "I'm pretty sure anything can sound appetizing, if you give it a chance. A good pinch of salt always helps, if you ask me, but I know a few people who prefer to eat their vegetables straight off the bush. But you see, if you keep salt in your pocket, like me, you won't have a problem anywhere." He winked.
"I'd never serve an animal that's still kicking! Or biting, for that matter. Never mind the health concerns, it's important to respect your food and the lives that go into it. I always say thank you for the food before I enjoy it, and I try to use everything. Well, there's only so much I can do. It's important to enjoy it, besides obtauning the nutrients from your food, or you'll have suffered too." He nodded absentmindedly, and stirred a pinch of salt and a sticky green lump into the pot. "I hope you find what you're looking for. If you want to find it. Some people don't want to find things they're looking for. Like a monster in the closet." He scratched his head. "I guess that's a bit more thinking than you might want to do, eh? Well, I only have monsters in pots and pans, here, so that's enough of that." Better not to mention the ones drying in his slime-holder--there didn't seem to be a point.
He looked up.
"I know what you might be thinking, but that was just some oil wrapped in a savory leaf. Good butter is hard to come by here on this level of the dungeon, and I can't go looking for it whenever I want it."
Contemplating the conversation, the dwarf stirred the fatty broth, watching it glisten and sparkle in the firelight. Although the water had been simmering out since he started cooking it, he had added more along the last few hours so that the ingredients weren't sticking to the bottom, and there was plenty of soup. Whatever didn't get eaten, he would reduce into a heavier stew and store in jars. They might not last for very long without a good layer of fat, but oil that solidified when it was cold made a great preservative from bacteria when it rose to the top of a soup! If he could heat-preserve them, that would be good, but it would probably be easier to just find a dark, cold corner, and store them in it, when he had to go away for a few nights.
"Thank you for the compliment," Senshi said, surprised out of his thoughts. "I always try to provide hospitality where I can. Sometimes it's harder than others. But I have plenty to go around, and plenty of time to talk or listen, tonight. Though if you want to listen to the silence, that's okay with me too."
((Glad to meet another fan!))
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