[Fire Emblem 9] [Drabble 17] Culinary Warfare

[runiclore]

Culinary Warfare
Author: Amber Michelle
Challenge: 17 – disgusting
Word Count: 500
Game: Path of Radiance

Warnings: very minor spoiler for an Ike-Oscar support conversation in PoR.

Cross-posted at fe_drabble.




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Rhys left the commander to recover just after the sun went down, drawing the curtains closed against the orange glare and pausing at the door to listen. Each breath drawn was clear, no longer gurgling. He slipped out, heard the ring of metal echo across the courtyard when he passed an open window - Titania, Boyd - and the thunk of arrows in wood - Shinon. The hallway still smelled like charred potatoes and wood.

"--was the last time you bit into a piece of chicken and saw it bleed, honestly?"

Rhys paused a half-step past Ike's room.

"The one I ate was fine!"

Mist? He raised his fist to knock. The room was only one door down from Greil's, and if Soren was speaking loudly enough to be heard - rare enough even in the practice yard - an escalation in their argument would wake him. Greil was only just now keeping water down, he needed rest--

"Don't get so worked up. I bet your soup could take down the next bandit troupe!"

Rhys passed his hands over his eyes. Ike was a nice boy, but he was--

"--such an idiot! I hate you!"

The door flew open. Rhys jerked back against the opposite wall. Mist slammed the door behind her before he could stop her. "Of all the stupid--!"

"Mist!" Her glare fixed on him. Rhys raised his hands, palms outward. "Your father is trying to sleep. If you calm down--"

Her mouth relaxed from its childish pout, went slack; her blue eyes watered and turned glassy. Is he okay? is what he thought she said, but a sob ruined her enunciation and tears streaked over her cheek. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry." She scrubbed at her eyes with her fists. "I'm sorry, I'll be quiet."

Rhys clenched his hands at his sides, then unclenched them, glancing at Greil's door. He heard the murmur of a conversation behind Ike's door, and Mist's slurping sniffle. It's my fault, she said when he put a hand on her shoulder to lead her downstairs. What if he dies? made him sigh. "It's only a sour stomach, Mist," he said when they reached the bottom landing. "It happens all the time at inns." The infirmary was at the end of the hall. He steered her toward the door with a hand on her back. "If you stop crying..." He stroked her hair back. "I'll teach you how to use a Restore staff to help your father. All right?"

Mist wiped her cheeks again, her eyes turned to the floor. Her red hair glinted in the lamplight, clung to the bottom of her chin, clumped around her ears. Flour smudged her dress. "Really?"

"We'll try it right now." Rhys smiled and opened the infirmary door. "You'll catch on in no time."


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Ha, okay. Silly idea. I know. But the epic "Mist can't cook" story just wasn't working out.