Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dainix first wielded a knife when he was seven.

"Be careful," said his dad seriously. "It's very, very sharp, which is good for control, but it can slice your fingers as easily as it can slice those vegetables. Understand?"

Dainix nodded solemnly. His fingers, so much smaller than his dad's, curled around the handle of a gleaming chopping knife. Their kitchen smelled like spices and slow-cooked meat, and the glittering glass walls trapped the heat from the cooking-fire. This wasn't Dainix's first time helping. (He loved to help! He was a great pot-stirrer. His parents both said so.) But it was his first time being entrusted with the knife.

Dainix moved a root into position on the chopping board, aligning it just so. He raised the knife and tried to bring it down straight. The knife bit through the root easily, lopping off the end, but the cut was weird and crooked. Dainix frowned and tried again. Nope, still crooked. 

He huffed. "Why can't I do it right? You do it better."

His dad ruffled Dainix's hair--the shorter locks, anyway. Most of it was tied back. "That's actually not bad for your first time. But here, I'll guide you."

A warm, much larger hand closed over Dainix's own, and together, they started cutting. His dad guided the knife so Dainix could get a feel for the motion. Thin slices piled up on the cutting board. When the root was cut down to nothing, his dad swiped all those neat slices and dumped them in a bowl. He placed another root on the board and stepped back. "Ready to try again?"

Dainix nodded, bit his lip, and raised the knife on his own.

He still didn't do as well as his dad--his cuts weren't as straight or even, and he was only half as quick--but he did better than before.

"Great job!" His dad hugged him and presented a different vegetable to chop. "Now try this one."

From there, Dainix's love and mastery of cooking grew as fast as he did. The knife fit more and more comfortably in his hand. His technique became more efficient. He learned how to de-bone meat. How much time different ingredients needed in the pot or the frying pan. The importance of spices. How to taste for that balance that was just right. Dainix burned and maimed a few meals along the way, but his parents--his dad especially--made the kitchen a forgiving place. He could always try again. There would always be more food and laughter and warm, full bellies.

By the time Dainix was thirteen, he could cook for his parents all by himself.

Dainix's cooking proved unexpectedly valuable among the Ravvan.

It started with an absolute shit day. A run-in with a beast gone awry left several of them with wounds and all of them dispirited. Dainix was a junior Ravvan at the time: finished with basic training, but only a sef in to helping with missions. He'd been flanking the beast, spear at the ready, but claws the size of scimitars had lashed out--hooked and wicked, designed to tear people apart--too quick for young Dainix to avoid. He would've been dead if his squad leader hadn't jumped in to protect him.

Dainix knelt inside the medical tent before his leader: a battle-hardened woman with a roadmap of scars on her skin, most of them now hidden by bloodstained bandages. She lay back on a makeshift sleeping pallet, propped up by all the spare blankets the squad had. Her name was Solavex. She would survive, but full recovery would take a sindahlan. "I'm sorry," said Dainix frantically. "I messed up, I know I need to do better, I--I'm so sorry!"

Solavex rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Ravvan look out for each other," she said gruffly. "It's fine. You're learning."

No one said it was Dainix's fault.

But Dainix knew it was.

"Please, if there's anything I can do--"

"Hush." Solavex glanced over to another one of the injured: a Ravvan by name of Rainox who sat, grimacing, with his arm in a sling. "Rainox was supposed to cook dinner tonight," she said. "Guess you can stand in for him, long as you don't poison the food."

Her weary tone didn't escape Dainix's notice. He got the sense that she was saying this more to quiet him and keep him occupied than anything else, so he murmured an "of course" and hurried off. He might have screwed up on the battlefield, but cooking, at least, was something he knew he could do.

Dainix hauled out the squad cooking pot and the ingredients for a basic curry: dried meats and vegetables, a canteen of coconut milk, and jars of spices. He added his own personal jar to the collection: a blend he and his dad had devised that they called "everything spice," because, well, it sort of had everything in it and worked with almost everything they ate. Finally, Dainix drew his hunting knife, which was distinct from his boot knife and his throwing knife, and prepped the ingredients.

He wielded the hunting knife with a deftness that, at the time, outstripped his prowess with the others. Everything was sliced and diced within minutes and set to simmering in the pot.

As he worked, Dainix's teammates poked their heads out of tents and slowed as they walked past. Murmurs and grumbles reached Dainix's ears.

"New kid's cooking?" said one.

"Wonder if he knows what he's doing," said another.

"Hope so. Gods, if we have ruined food on top of all this other crap--"

"The pot looks kinda... bright."

Dainix paid them little mind. He was too busy balancing the spices. He'd started out with moderate quantities. Then he'd decided it needed a little more of this, and a little more of that, and just a little more of the blend...

Finally, it was just right. A simmering, orange-tinted concoction bursting with flavor, tinged with heat.

"Dinner's ready," Dainix called.

His fellow Ravvan lined up with their bowls. Dainix stood back and let them serve themselves. As they sat around the campfire and stuck spoonfuls of stew in their mouths, their faces lit up. Dainix's heart leapt.

"Holy shit, this is good!" said one.

"Oh my gods I can't believe you did this with rations, how?!"

"Nice, Dainix!"

Dainix's smile stretched so widely that it hurt. The piece of him that felt guilty and useless shrank and quieted. He had wielded fire and steel and fed his comrades well.

Then Dainix noticed that Solavex wasn't among them, and a fresh pang of guilt hit him. Right, she wasn't well enough to leave the tent. 

So Dainix ladled up a bowl and brought it to her.

She accepted it gingerly, but when she actually tried it...

"Huh. It's good." Solavex took another bite.

Dainix beamed. "I'm glad you like it."

"Might make you cook every night."

She did not actually make him cook every night.

But funnily enough, Dainix did find himself assigned cooking duty more often than the average squad member. And when Dainix finally became experienced enough to lead squads of his own--when his spear grew as deft as his kitchen knife; when he learned how to react in an instant, to dodge razor-sharp claws with a hair's breadth to spare--he made a point of cooking for his comrades as much as possible. It was a small thing, but it bolstered them. He fed them consolation through curries, spirit through stews, heart through hot spices.

It strengthened them, and it made the pains and losses of Ravvan duty a little more bearable.

Until--

"NO!"

--that day that was too much--too much rage, too much grief, too much guilt and pain--and it consumed him.

When Dainix was exiled, he tried to take a sliver of home with him.

He packed his smallest cooking pot, one he'd almost never used because it was only meant to feed one person. His dad, teary-eyed, pressed jars of spices into Dainix's hands; each one was worth its weight in gold. "They'll need to last you a while, so use them sparingly," his dad advised. His voice wavered as he added, "You'll only need to feed yourself most of the time, now, so that should--that should make it easier, and--I'm sorry, Dainix. I'm so, so sorry--"

Dainix set the jars aside and accepted his dad's embrace, even though he felt like he didn't deserve it. He swallowed back his sorrow. He was taller than his dad, now. He missed feeling small.

He missed not feeling like a monster.

His mom stayed hard-faced, steeling herself against the heartbreak. She packed rations of dried meat and beans and vegetables so tightly that the resultant supply pack, though not bulky, weighed more than a small child. "Hunt and gather when you can," she advised. "You know how to kill beasts. Terrain's different out of the desert, but you'll have more cover and denser fauna in a lot of places. Careful with unfamiliar plants, though. They're likely to be poison."

"Yes, Mom."

Her expression cracked. She teetered on the edge of losing her composure.

In the end, she hugged him so tightly that Dainix swore his ribs creaked.

He buried his face in her shoulder and hugged her just as tightly back.

Dainix left holding his cooking supplies and the memory of his parents' warmth, and he clung to those as long as possible. His efforts to find comfort in cooking worked--partially. It was bittersweet. Every dish he made was full of fond memories. His hand, now larger than his dad's, engulfed the knife's hilt, but he remembered tiny fingers struggling to grip it, learning how to slice a root. As he made curry, he thought of the way his squad members' faces would light up. But he was eating alone, now, and he missed sharing meals so much that it ached.

It was still something.

The smallest flicker of light in a pit of creeping despair.

Of course, then Dainix got captured and imprisoned in Zuurith, and they confiscated his supplies. Dainix didn't know what he found more depressing: the prison cell or the food.

(The food was awful. Clearly, they had no idea how to cook.)

So. When Dainix was finally, finally free--when he was among friends, new and unfamiliar though they were--when they finally made it through that nightmarish twenty-four hours and had a chance to rest and patch themselves up--the first thing he wanted to do was share a meal. Okay, no, the first thing he wanted to do was sleep for a sef, because gods had it been a long day for all of them. He dearly hoped they wouldn't have too many more days like that. (A deity was probably laughing even as Dainix thought that.) But once he'd slept, he wanted to make food and share it and have some semblance of community again.

"How do you usually distribute meal prep duties?" Dainix asked Kendal that evening. They'd just picked their camping spot after sleeping for half the day: a glade a short ways off the beaten path. "What can I help with?"

Kendal regarded him with polite surprise. "If we're camping, I usually just eat whatever Alinua grows," he said honestly.

Dainix immediately turned to Alinua. "You provide food for everyone? That sounds like quite a task."

Alinua smiled tiredly at him. "Sort of. Erin has these instant meal thingies he pulls out of his magic bag, and Falst usually goes and catches something to roast over the fire for himself." She grimaced. "I've told him he's welcome to what I grow, and sometimes I talk him into taking a little. But he keeps saying he doesn't want to be dead weight."

Erin was already pulling out a tin cup and a pale block of something that did not look remotely like food to Dainix. Apparently it was food, though, because Erin stuck it in the cup and magicked boiling water into it, then started shoving it in his mouth. 

Falst roamed just out of earshot, gathering rocks and sticks with his good arm. His bad arm was still in a sling; Alinua had repaired the worst of the damage, but Falst's soul barrier had reasserted itself quickly and shut her out. The last traces of fracture and muscle pain would have to heal on their own. Really, Falst shouldn't be doing labor at all. Falst would probably fight them if they tried to stop him, though. 

(Dainix still itched to try. Maybe he could argue that it was tactical to lean on his friends.)

Tess was--actually, Dainix had lost track of Tess, but she'd said something about scouting the area.

Dainix sighed and turned back to Alinua. "If your meals are usually plant based, I'm guessing lots of vegetable soups and stews? I have some supplies I could contribute, and I could dice the ingredients and mind the pot. Whatever you can use me for. I don't know your style or preferences, but--"

"That is incredibly sweet, but I was literally just thinking of growing a bush of berries and being done with it." Alinua actually looked embarrassed. "I hope that's okay. They'll have the nutrients needed to sustain us. I know that's not as comforting as a cooked meal, but..."

"That's--" Dainix despaired internally. But he shoved it down, out of sight, and dredged up a smile. "That's perfectly fine and generous, and I really appreciate it. Thank you."

Alinua smiled back, warm and genuine this time. "You're welcome." And with that, she strode off to a fertile-looking patch of ground. Tendrils of Life magic danced down her arm, and a shrub sprouted out of the soil. Bright blue berries nearly outnumbered the leaves. Admittedly, the berries looked good. Fresh fruit was a luxury in the desert, and it came from cacti more often than not.

Kendal swiftly joined her and plucked a few berries, popping them in his mouth. He said something soft that Dainix didn't catch, and Alinua brightened.

Dainix hesitated; it seemed like they were having a moment, and he didn't want to bother them. But Alinua looked back and beckoned him, so he approached on soft-stepping feet and settled down cross-legged.

"Here you go." Alinua held out a handful of berries.

"Thanks." Dainix took one and bit down.

The berry burst in his mouth, and the flavor nearly overwhelmed him. It was tangy and tart and sweet and intense in a way that differed from the spices and savory vegetables Dainix usually used. It was brighter and bolder than cactus fruit, almost like someone had taken all the flavors a fruit could be and boiled them down as dense as they could go. But as the taste settled in Dainix's mouth, the intensity grew comfortable. Dainix suspected these would be perfect tempered and mixed into a pastry filling, with just a touch more sugar or honey and a starchy thickener--though, admittedly, confections and baking were hardly his specialty.

"Uh, Dainix?" asked Alinua. "Are you okay?"

"Mm? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking." He took another berry. "These are good. They would make an incredible pie filling or jam."

"Vash ate dessert pies for fun, sometimes," mused Kendal. "But I've never tried one firsthand."

"I've only tried a few," confessed Dainix. "Cooking from my homeland tends to emphasize savory and spicy meals, not so many sweets."

"Did you cook a lot back home?" asked Alinua curiously.

"Oh, all the time." Dainix took another berry. "I learned when I was young, and when I became Ravvan, I got used to cooking for entire squads."

"Lucky squads," commented Kendal, smiling.

The words stabbed at a still-tender, still-grieving piece of Dainix's heart. Some of those people had not been lucky. No, not at all... though of course, Kendal couldn't possibly know that, and it would be terrible to lash out at him for an innocent remark. Dainix managed to dredge up a small, weak smile. Quietly, he said, "I miss them."

Kendal's expression shifted to one of solemn understanding. "I'm sorry."

Alinua placed a consoling hand on Dainix's arm. "You'll see them again. Once you master your soulfire."

"Not all of them."

"Oh--oh, Dainix, I'm sorry."

Footsteps approached, and a disgruntled-looking Falst crouched down near Dainix's side. His sling kept his bad arm close to his chest, and he plucked a few berries single-handed without comment. Falst acted like he wasn't involved in the conversation, but Dainix caught the sideways glance, the way Falst's ear turned toward them. Falst hunched his shoulders, as if he thought someone might try to take his berries or chase him away. It made Dainix's heart twist, but he had a feeling right now wasn't the right time to push into Falst's personal bubble.

Not that they hadn't practically merged bubbles for a while, in the ruins. For tactical reasons. Imminent threat of death had a funny way of bringing people together.

But Falst's earlier reaction to Dainix reading him... The words "I DON'T WANT YOU IN MY HEAD!" still rang on repeat in the back of Dainix's mind.

Dainix couldn't let Falst know how much emotion he saw.

So Dainix gave Falst the barest hint of acknowledgement, the shadow of a nod, and refocused on Alinua. He took a deep breath and patted her hand. "It is what it is. Tell me about yourselves? Where are you from?"

The story Kendal and Alinua told him took the rest of dinner--or what Dainix chose, loosely, to call dinner. (Kendal was two sefs old? Alinua was connected to Primordial Life?!) Eventually, Erin and Tess joined them at the berry bush, and Erin chimed in with his explanation of the Void Dragon. (This answered several questions Dainix had harbored but never got around to asking because, well, they'd been busy. Then exhausted. Then preoccupied with practical matters, like finding another place to camp.) Gradually, the sketchy, broken lines of Dainix's inferences coalesced into a picture, and he was left wondering what kind of situation he'd gotten himself into.

They're a good bunch, Dainix told himself firmly. Kind. And they've given me hope and a path forward.

But by Jiya, the earth-shaking impact and superhuman forces concentrated in these three alone--

"We're quite the collection of oddities, aren't we?" said Erin brightly. "But you fit right in with us, what with your ability to transform into a living inferno."

"...Fair point."

This was the strangest communal meal Dainix had ever had. It didn't feel anything like home. He still yearned for the familiarity of simmering food, and his hand itched for his hunting knife.

But this was better than eating alone.

They made it to a rest house in a town the very next day, and they didn't settle in so much as collectively collapse into the bunk beds.

The following morning, however, Erin, Tess, and Alinua all rose with the sun and announced that they were going to go shop for supplies. They also all--mostly--agreed that Kendal, Falst, and Dainix should stay at the inn and rest up, since Dainix was still worn down, Falst's arm was still healing, and Kendal's... well... everything was still healing. Kendal looked faintly relieved, and he promptly went back to lay on his bunk. Dainix felt a flare of gratitude. "I'll look out for everyone," Dainix promised.

Falst seethed. "I don't need looking after!" he snapped. "I'm fine!"

"Except for your arm, which is unusable," Erin snarked back.

"I have three other completely functional limbs!"

"Tactically speaking," said Dainix, "we can reach peak condition faster if we rest. Might as well take advantage while we can."

Falst opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then settled for simply scowling.

Dainix tried not to look smug.

Three hours into his mandated rest, Dainix was feeling significantly less smug.

Kendal was a model roommate, insofar that he seemed content to lie quietly on his bunk, so still that Dainix felt tempted to check if he was breathing. Kendal wasn't sleeping, though--that, or he was a very light sleeper. Dainix knew this because he gave into the compulsion to check on him once, tiptoeing over on quiet, careful feet. But the moment Dainix came within reach, Kendal's blue eyes snapped open. Dainix started, and Kendal, with a slightly arched brow, said, "Hi, Dainix. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," said Dainix quickly, "sorry, I just wanted to check that you were, uh. Breathing fine and everything."

Kendal blinked, then smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm fine."

Kendal was easy to share space with, once Dainix got used to the idea that his absolute stillness didn't mean death. Or sleep, even.

And then there was Falst.

Falst tried to escape out the window twice. Twice. 

Dainix had known him for about forty-eight hours, and they had already faced horrors for each other multiple times in that nightmare dungeon. Dainix would do it again a thousand times over, if they faced a thousand more nightmares, which he dearly hoped they would not but resignedly expected they might. Dainix adored Falst profoundly, to the extent that a person could adore someone they'd known for only forty-eight hours, and he desperately wanted Falst to be well. Dainix wanted to help, somehow, because gods, the traumas Falst had lived through and recounted and then casually shoved back under the rug before Dainix could say anything, and everything Falst had done for him--

So yes. Dainix cared, perhaps a bit too much. And perhaps that was why Falst's abject refusal to rest drove Dainix up the wall.

Dainix just barely caught Falst by his good arm, while Kendal, who absolutely should have still been in bed, snatched Falst by the waist.

Falst protested. "Lemme go! I want to check on Alinua!"

Dainix internally beseeched the gods. "She's fine! I'm sure they're all fine! Would you please just rest?!"

"It's just my arm! This is such a waste of time!"

Thinking fast, Dainix scanned the room and spotted the textbooks Erin had left strewn on the table. "You could use this time to study spell-carving," he suggested. "The bits you knew saved us multiple times in the ruins. Knowing a bit more could end up saving us again." Dainix felt Falst go still, as if considering the idea. Dainix loosened his grip just slightly. "I think I see a life magic one in that pile. Maybe start there?"

Falst relented. "...Yeah. I guess I can do that."

Dainix and Kendal both let go, and Falst slunk over to the table, where he finally was quiet and still and not giving Dainix mini heart attacks.

So that was both of Dainix's temporary roommates taken care of.

Now Dainix needed to do something about his silent internal scream that had been building and building and building over the course of the morning.

Ordinarily, Dainix would deal with this via intensive training. Sparring if he had someone to spar with, which he did not, seeing as both his allies--friends?--were incapacitated. Forms and shadow boxing if Dainix was isolated--which he'd done every single day he'd spent in that accursed prison to preserve his sanity, and now the thought of doing yet more forms after everything just made the internal scream worse. He also still carried a subtle ache, a fatigue that lingered in his muscles and bones, though he didn't feel like sleeping.

Then Dainix remembered he had his supplies back. His spices. His hunting knife.

And this rest house had a kitchenette.

Dainix pulled out his spices, his knife, his jerky, some of the edible plants that Alinua had grown for them before leaving, and a dented pot from the kitchenette's cabinet. He worked more slowly and quietly than he ordinarily would, trying not to disturb Kendal (who seemed to be at least trying to rest) or Falst (who peered intently at the textbook, eyes roving, body still as a cat about to pounce). Dainix also had to sample the ingredients more than he usually did. He wasn't used to these vegetables; they had subtly different textures and different flavor profiles. And he didn't have much of his own stuff to work with, aside from the jerky and his spices. The right spice balance would have to carry this dish. And he'd have to rehydrate the jerky to make it palatable and fit with the other ingredients, which meant, in this case, creating a slow-simmering stew.

Dainix immersed himself in the rhythm of washing, chopping, tasting, and stirring. His supplies were different and limited, but the tasks and considerations were comfortingly familiar. His awareness narrowed to the orange glow of the lacrima-powered stovetop. The crackle of vegetables in oil. The aroma of toasted spices. The addition of water and the jerky. The arduously slow process of simmering it all, letting the flavors blend, letting the food soften and the liquid thicken. The resulting concoction was heady and chunky, blending into a red-tinged brown.

Dainix tried a spoonful and hummed thoughtfully. Not bad. Not the best thing he'd ever made, but close to the best he could do right now, given the givens. Just a little more dried volcano pepper...

The door thudded open, and Dainix nearly dropped his ladle.

"We've returned!" announced Erin triumphantly. "And we have--"

Tess interrupted him. "Oooh, what's cooking? Smells good!"

Dainix turned, a hand pressed to his chest. Erin, Tess, and Alinua all crowded the doorway, their arms full of wrapped bundles and their faces full of curiosity. Falst was still at the table, though he now watched Dainix with the same intensity he'd scrutinized his textbook. Kendal was still in bed--no, getting out of bed, swinging his legs over the side with efficient grace. 

Dainix breathed out. He rubbed the back of his neck and offered Tess a smile. "Uh, lunch? If you want some."

"It's actually closer to dinner, buddy, but I'll take it!"

Dainix held up a hand. "One second." He added a pinch of the blazing red spice, stirred, and taste-tested it again. Better. The balance was in that sweet spot: warm without searing, flavorful without knocking him off his feet. Dainix turned off the stove and gave the stew a few more stirs, just to ensure thorough integration. "Alright," he said decisively, "it's ready."

"Woo!"

"Splendid," said Erin brightly. "All that walking around has worked up an appetite."

"Thank you," said Alinua sincerely.

"You're welcome! I'm happy to, honestly." Dainix reached up and pulled out the bowls.

One by one, most of the gang came up and accepted their servings from Dainix. Tess's face lit up on the first bite, and Dainix's polite smile turned into a wholehearted grin as Tess shoveled stew in her mouth like a famished person. Erin sampled a bite, looking uncertain at first, but he, too, lit up and ate faster, albeit with a bit more restraint than Tess.

Alinua's eyes widened as she tried hers. "This is amazing, Dainix."

Kendal accepted his portion with calm but open curiosity. He didn't outwardly react as much as the others, but Dainix still saw his eyes light up and his lips curl into a smile around the spoon. "This is really good," Kendal said. His voice was calm, but full of warmth. "I think this is the best thing I've tasted since existing."

Dainix beamed.

In fairness, Kendal had only existed for a few sefs, but still.

Falst didn't come over. He stayed at the table, his hand on the textbook, eyeing the stew pot uncertainly.

Dainix brought a bowl and spoon over to him. "Want to try some?" he asked gently.

Falst stared at the bowl, then at Dainix, then pointed to himself questioningly. "You're just giving your food to me? You worked hard on that stuff."

"I used to cook all the time for my comrades back home. I've missed sharing meals, honestly."

Tentatively, like he thought it might be snatched away again, Falst accepted the bowl.

Dainix waited with bated breath as Falst scooped up a spoonful and sniffed it. Falst might not like this. Dainix remembered how Falst had talked about his enhanced senses, how odors most people didn't notice could be disgusting to him. Dainix had calibrated his cooking for his own senses. To him, it was a comforting balance of flavor and subtlety, but what if, for Falst, it was overwhelming?

Falst stuck the spoonful in his mouth, then froze. His pupils dilated. His ears perked up. His tail flicked.

"If you don't like it--" began Dainix, feeling inexplicably nervous.

Falst swallowed. "It's good," he mumbled. Falst devoured the stew like a starveling.

Dainix grinned broadly at him, relieved, and rested a friendly hand on Falst's shoulder. "There's more in the pot if you want seconds."

"Really? Wait." Falst narrowed his eyes at Dainix. "You haven't eaten any yet."

"Oh! Right. Don't worry, I will. I'm just saying there's plenty to go around." Dainix hastily served himself a bowl and slid into the seat next to Falst, who looked between Dainix and Dainix's bowl pointedly. Dainix chuckled slightly at the wordless message and tucked into his meal. It settled in his stomach, warm and satisfying. And as he looked around at the table of well-fed and contented faces, something inside him lightened.

He really had missed this.

It still wasn't home. The absence of Dainix's old comrades, alive and dead, ached.

But today, it ached a little less.

To Dainix's surprise, Alinua volunteered to help him cook the very next day. "I know you said you're happy to cook for us, but I don't want to leave you with all the work," she said. Her touch was feather light on his arm, but present, and her verdant eyes held a hint of concern. "You still seem tired."

Dainix couldn't deny that he was. Harnessing his Crucible powers willingly for the first time in his life, and more than once in the same night at that, had left him exhausted. He was feeling less fatigued with each passing day, but he hadn't shaken off the burned-out feeling completely. "I am a bit," he admitted. "It's not too bad, but if you're kindly offering to help--"

Alinua nodded briskly. "I can grow us more vegetables too. Any particular ones you want?"

Dainix mulled this over. "We could do a vegetable curry over rice, using the milk you got for a curry base." He started ticking off vegetables on his fingers, checking how many Alinua was familiar with. To his surprise and delight, Alinua knew most of them. And when he described the texture and flavor for the few she didn't know, Alinua was able to think of analogs that might work. When she grew them and Dainix sampled them, he agreed with her. These should work great. Together, they were a force.

Dainix hugged her excitedly, wrapping her in his arms and squeezing tight. "This'll be amazing! Thank you so much."

Alinua laughed, startled but happy, and hugged him back.

Erin and Tess had already left earlier, Erin to check out the local library and Tess to catch up with a friend she had in the area. (Dainix got the feeling Tess had a lot of friends in a lot of areas. From what little he'd seen of her, she was just that kind of person, open and enthusiastic and riding high on life wherever the winds took her.) Kendal sat in his bed with one of Erin's books in his lap, while Falst sat at the table, frowning at a different magical text from yesterday. He glanced up as Dainix enthusiastically led Alinua over to the kitchenette. But when Dainix caught his eye, Falst glanced away self-consciously, his tail flicking.

"We'll try not to disturb you," Dainix promised.

"S'fine," mumbled Falst. He buried his nose in the book, but his ear stayed swiveled toward Dainix and Alinua, his attention clearly still on them.

Dainix and Alinua traded looks--an arched brow from Alinua, a bemused smile from Dainix--then set to work.

"This is nice," said Dainix happily as they washed vegetables together. He handed Alinua his best hunting knife and pulled out a spare from his boot. The kitchenette had knives, too, but frankly, Dainix's were better. "I used to cook all the time with my dad, especially when I was still learning." He cleaved a squash in two and started chopping it into even chunks. "I liked sharing the space with him and learning with him and just talking while we worked, you know?"

Alinua smiled ruefully. "By the time I learned how to cook, I didn't really have anyone to cook with. I was self-isolating."

Dainix mentally smacked himself. Of course. Way to put his foot in his mouth. "That's right, you told me you were--I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. You've known us for literally a few days, and we dumped our backstory on you in pretty much one go after we'd all exhausted ourselves."

Dainix chuckled. "Fair point. Well, when you cook for yourself, what kinds of things do you like to make?"

Alinua shrugged. "'Like' is a strong word, but pretty much all my dishes have boiled down to plants in hot water." She swept a pile of diced vegetables into a bowl.

Dainix reached across and drizzled oil over Alinua's vegetables, then returned to mincing aromatics. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I just chucked in whatever I had on hand that I thought might go together, boiled until tender, and crossed my fingers. Vegetable soup, herbal infusions, and pretty much nothing else. It was enough to keep me alive, though, and I developed an intuition for what might taste good."

"I see." Dainix tipped Alinua's vegetables and his minced aromatics into the pot, added a few smoky spices and more oil, and set the stove alight. Oil crackled and popped. Plants sizzled. "As long as it keeps you alive, good enough. If you enjoy it at all, even better." He prodded the vegetables with a spoon. They were cooking, but not fast. They'd need several minutes of sautéing before he could start adding liquids.

Alinua peered into the pot. "What are you doing?"

"Sautéing. The application of high heat to the vegetables releases and changes the flavors. It, uh. Chars them? Not quite chars. Browns. Just a bit of grilled, toasty crisp."

"Oh. Interesting."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Alinua and Dainix took turns prodding the pot's contents. When the vegetables looked ready, Dainix encouraged Alinua to sample one. She popped a chunk of squash in her mouth, and her eyes lit up. Dainix grinned, gently clapped her shoulder, and started adding components for the sauce: a bit of precious water, a bit more spice, smashed tomatoes, a trickle of milk...

Alinua, Dainix gathered, felt neutral about the process of cooking itself. To her, it was a survival task, one learned in years of isolation. (She must have been miserable. Dainix had only been in solitary for sindahlans, and within sefs, he felt so shitty that he actively hoped for--don't think about that.) But she clearly liked eating the food. And as they kept skirting around each other in that little kitchenette, Dainix gathered that she liked having company, too.

Alinua started asking questions.

"What do you cook, usually?"

"Curries, stews, stir-fries. More rarely, baked and grilled meals. Soups sometimes. Most of it's hearty and savory. Often meat-based and spice heavy, but it definitely doesn't have to be." Dainix indicated the pot. The sauce ingredients were well integrated: an orange-red goop that coated the vegetables. Dainix grabbed a spoonful and offered it to Alinua. "Taste this for me?"

Alinua did. "Mmm... Pretty good. Is it ready, maybe?"

Dainix tried it. He rolled the flavors around in his mouth, frowning thoughtfully. "A couple more minutes and a pinch more cumin, I think." He reached for a jar of crushed seeds.

"When did you first start learning how to do all this?"

Dainix actually had to think about that one for a second. "Soon as I was old enough to toddle around, in a way. That's when I started hanging out with my dad in the kitchen. But I think it really started when he finally let me hold a knife. I was seven."

"Seven?!"

"Yep."

"No wonder your taste is so... precise."

Dainix tilted his head. "Huh. I never thought it was anything special, but I guess so?"

"Yes, the way you decide the curry needs a pinch of this, or a dash of that, it seems like you're really--oh my gods. The prison food. That must have been a nightmare for you."

"It was pretty terrible," Dainix agreed. He grimaced just thinking about it. He almost made a glib comment about how he wasn't sure which made him wish for death more: the exile, the solitary confinement, or the fucking food. But the joke stalled in Dainix's throat. Okay, no, far too dark. Particularly for Alinua, now of all times. Dainix still wasn't sure what exactly had happened in that Tynan fight, but something had brought Kendal to the brink of death. Something that had left Alinua distraught. Something like...

Falst had said something about "that stabby thing." And the sword. And if the sword was Vash's weapon, and Kendal was once a vessel of Vash--

Pieces started to click into place. Kendal hadn't seemed especially concerned with preserving his own life when Dainix had met him. Had he--

"Dainix?"

Dainix jumped. The curry bubbled. He hastily turned the stove off and stirred vigorously. "Sorry! I was just thinking."

"Prison food was that bad, huh?"

"...Yup."

If Dainix's suspicions were correct, no wonder Alinua was so watchful of him. No wonder Falst had threatened to snap Kendal's sword....

Dainix shook his head, dislodging that train of thought, and sampled the curry. "Aha," he said softly. He turned the stove off. "Alinua, try this one more time?"

She tried a spoonful and smiled widely. "This is delicious! We're one heck of a team."

Dainix beamed and hugged her. "Thank you so much for cooking with me!"

Alinua slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him back. "You're like a cuddly campfire," she noted, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Guess I'll start sitting on the wood piles when we camp," he joked. 

She snickered, but she didn't draw back yet.

Dainix squeezed gently. She was bundled in his arms, her chin resting on his shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek. She wasn't a tiny person by any means, but she still felt so much smaller than him. He held her for a few seconds longer. From the way Alinua melted into it--and from the way she'd hurled herself into Kendal's arms a few nights ago--Dainix got the feeling that she craved--no, needed this. Hugs. Physical affection. Comfort.

(Perhaps--just perhaps--Dainix needed this too.)

Alinua probably needed it from Kendal most of all, but Dainix guessed he would do for now.

Speaking of Kendal...

Kendal's head popped out from amongst the bunk beds, blue eyes alight with curiosity.

Dainix let go of Alinua and jabbed his thumb at the pot. "Curry's just about ready. Come get it."

"Oh, thanks." Kendal carefully extricated himself from the bed. He was almost recovered, but he still moved carefully, like he had residual aches and pains.

Falst watched Dainix and Alinua from his seat at the rickety table. Dainix tried to get a read on his expression--wide eyes, tense shoulders, pricked ears--but the second Falst caught Dainix's eye, he looked away, his ears flattening and his tail flicking irritably. The problem wasn't distrust, was it? Dainix thought Falst trusted him at least as much as the rest of the group by now. They had a bond forged in fire and nightmare slime, or at least the beginnings of one. And Falst trusted Alinua--or, at least, he trusted enough to care and worry about her.

Maybe a bowl of curry would help.

Dainix served an eager Alinua first, then a curious Kendal, who tried it and informed Dainix decisively, "It's even better than yesterday's."

"The ingredients make a big difference," said Dainix, grinning.

Alinua's expression brightened.

As before, Falst stayed at the table, his nose buried determinedly in the magical textbook. And, as before, Dainix brought him a bowl. "I always cook enough to go around," said Dainix, resting a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Falst hesitated, then accepted the offering, cradling it as if it were made of glass. He stuck a spoonful in his mouth, and some of the tension left his shoulders. "S'good," he mumbled.

"I'm glad."

Dainix settled between Falst and Alinua.

Alinua bumped Dainix's shoulder with hers. "I wouldn't mind doing this again. It was fun."

Something warm and hope-like kindled in Dainix's chest. "Of course! Cook with me anytime."

Falst was out with Alinua, who had relented and let him accompany her for errands. Erin once again left for the library, while Tess declared she had "a major case of the zoomies" and needed to go run a couple dozen miles. And Dainix, well... He had most of his energy back. And he'd gone three entire days without training at all, which meant he needed to move. But he'd also promised to stay with Kendal, who was healing from the last of his wounds.

Dainix spent a few hours doing forms, while Kendal lay in his bunk, idly reading some of the magic textbooks. Until, eventually--

"Hey, can I cook with you today?"

The question caught Dainix off-guard.

Kendal watched him from his bunk, his book forgotten, his sea-blue eyes tracking Dainix's movements. He waited patiently for a response.

Dainix hastily pushed aside his surprise and said, "Sure! If you're feeling up to it."

Kendal grinned. "I'm almost fully healed, so yeah. What do you want to make?"

Cooking with Kendal was an interesting experience.

He was polite, quiet, earnest, and focused. He moved with a near-mechanical efficiency--with virtually none of the shifts or twitches that most people subconsciously did. His hands were supernaturally steady, which was as useful in the kitchen as it was in battle. Or with any hands-on task, for that matter.

He had also clearly never used knives for anything but combat in his life.

Which Dainix supposed he should have expected, given how fraught and unusually short it had been. But--

Dainix pinched the bridge of his nose. "You... cleaved my cutting board."

The board lay on the counter, perfectly bisected as the root Kendal had meant to cut.

Kendal rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. We'll replace it, I swear."

Dainix closed his eyes. Breathe it out. Just. Breathe out. "It's alright," he said levelly. "Just use smaller, gentler cuts." Dainix took half the cutting board and half the root and demonstrated. (It had been a large cutting board, thankfully. Now Dainix had two inconveniently small but still technically usable ones.) "With the shape of this knife, it's more of a rocking motion and a gentle slide through. A slice, not a heavy-handed cleave." Kendal watched carefully, still as stone, and Dainix considered him. The way Kendal's hand dwarfed the handle of the knife Dainix had given him. The ruined cutting board. How easily Kendal had punched through stone back in Zuurith, as if it were nothing... "Think of it like this: don't kill the vegetable. Give it a paper cut."

"...Okay."

Miraculously, that analogy worked. Kendal tried again, his brow furrowed in concentration, his cuts slow and gentle. This time, his (downsized) cutting board stayed intact.

Dainix breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

"Thanks." Wryly, Kendal added, "And thanks for being patient with me."

"First thing my dad taught me: you're allowed to mess up in the kitchen. That's how you learn." Dainix offered him a lopsided smile. "Just don't cut your fingers off!"

Kendal smiled back. "Your dad sounds like a nice guy."

"He is." Dainix rambled about his dad, and then his homeland, as he and Kendal sliced and diced and heated oil in the frying pan. Dainix kept breaking off to help Kendal with cooking technique: here's how to cut an onion. This is how to mince garlic. Crush it with the flat of the blade--gently!--yes, like that. But then Kendal would gently prod Dainix about whatever he'd been saying before, and the chatter would start up again. While half of Dainix's mind was on starting the rice or stir-frying the vegetables, the other half let words flow freely. Whenever Dainix stalled out, Kendal made some comment or asked a follow-up question to get him talking again.

It struck Dainix halfway through stir-frying the vegetables that their conversation had been incredibly one-sided.

Had Kendal steered it that way on purpose? Or had he just been too polite to interrupt?

Sheepishly, Dainix ended his story about childhood festival shenanigans. "I've been talking your ears off! You can tell me to hush if I get carried away, you know."

Lightly, Kendal said, "Consider it payback for everything we dumped on you within a day of knowing you. Besides, I don't mind. I like hearing about your life."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Under Dainix's careful watch, Kendal fluffed the rice. "Part of why I asked to help you cook was to get to know you better, honestly. I like knowing people, particularly people I want to call friends." He paused, heedless of Dainix's silent but probably blatant rollercoaster of emotions, then added thoughtfully, "It took me a while to understand that I could be close to people without knowing everything about them. I was born with access to Vash's memories through the sword, and he... His bond with his people... He knew all of their life stories." He fluffed the rice a little more. "I don't have to know everything about you. Or Alinua. Or any of the rest of us. But I like knowing whatever you feel like sharing."

"...That's..." Dainix lowered the stove's heat. "You're an extraordinarily kind person, you know that?"

Kendal gently touched Dainix's arm. "So are you. How have you been feeling, by the way? Better?"

Something about the way Kendal said it made Dainix suspect he was talking about more than Dainix's recent burnout. Either way, Dainix could answer honestly: "I'm doing better." He considered Kendal's slightly slowed movements and the new scar on his navel--of Kendal alight with blue flame--of Kendal back at the prison, seemingly unconcerned with preserving his own life. Softly, Dainix asked, "How about you?"

Kendal's smile was genuine. "I'm also doing better."

Dainix smiled back. "I'm glad to hear it."

Kendal hesitated; then, he turned off the stove and drew Dainix into a hug.

Dainix nearly dropped the shovel-spoon in surprise.

Hugging Kendal was a wholly different experience from hugging Alinua. Kendal was probably the only person in the party larger than Dainix, and even back home, Dainix had been on the taller side among his people. So he wasn't used to being enveloped the way he was now. Kendal was warm and solid and all-encompassing, and Dainix could feel the strength in him and the caution with which he wielded it, like he had to be mindful not to snap all of Dainix's bones like twigs. 

Even so, Kendal felt safe.

(Despite what he did to the cutting board.)

Dainix set down the spoon, rested his chin on Kendal's shoulder, and hugged him back.

"Thanks for letting me join you today," Kendal murmured.

"I was glad to have you. Really. Thanks for helping me cook. And for listening to my stories."

"Anytime." Kendal paused. "You feel like you carry an internal sun."

Amused, Dainix said, "Says the man whose bones are woven with literal star-stuff."

Kendal laughed.

Eventually, Dainix let go. He had to turn the stove back on and finish the stir-fry, after all.

Over the coming days, both Kendal and Alinua made a habit of joining Dainix at the campfire or stove. Sometimes they were otherwise occupied--fetching firewood or keeping a lookout or helping Erin set up a tent--but more often than not, Dainix would start pulling out his cooking supplies, and one or both of them would appear at his side as if summoned.

They were both welcome companions. Kendal was eager to keep picking up new cooking skills. And Alinua, while not as curious, didn't mind helping and clearly enjoyed the company. Dainix started to get to know them better--not just their backstories and traumas and combat skills, but small things. Preferences, quirks, ticks. Flora reacted to Alinua's very presence, and she had a strong preference for vegetable-based dishes. She also knew a ton about the structure of life-forms and medicinal healing. Kendal always wanted to hear stories, and he liked anything that tasted strong or new. He liked the novelty.

It was probably refreshing for him to have novelty and adventure without mortal peril.

Dainix appreciated that, too.

Though, in fairness, cooking could turn perilous if someone tried hard enough...

After they reached the next city, Tess pulled Dainix aside. "Hey," she said seriously. "Are you planning on cooking again today?"

Taken aback, Dainix answered nonetheless. "Yeah, I was planning on it." He tilted his head. "Do you... want to help?"

He was confused, but not surprised, when Tess shook her head. "Thanks, big guy, but I just don't have the patience for it. I'm more of a takeout kind of gal. Love it when you cook, though. Much appreciated." She leaned in, and her next words cleared up everything. "I'm asking because of Erin. Guy's living on those instant magic-meals unless you're actively providing him with food, and I'm pretty sure that's not great for him. He'll say something like 'they're utterly adequate!' or 'I haven't died yet!' if you prod him about it, and you know what? The first thing's a dirty lie. The second thing's survivor's bias."

Ah. Yeah.

Dainix was right with Tess on that one.

Erin had once offered Dainix one of those instant-meal things. They were blocks of... of... Dainix wouldn't even call them food. They were more like flavorless, hyper-processed chunks of starch and gunk drowned in salt. They were worse than the prison food, and the prison food had been utterly mutilated plates of barely-edible meat and plants, designed to keep the gladiators both miserable and well enough to fight.

Tess asked, "Can you get him to cook with you, at least once? Teach him a few things? Maybe instill in him a sense of taste?"

"Absolutely," said Dainix firmly.

Tess beamed at him. "Thanks. You're a pal."

The second Erin came back from the city's library, Dainix snagged his arm and said, "Hi, Erin. Mind helping me in the kitchen today?"

Erin stared at him in (understandable) bewilderment. "Well, I was going to record some more of my findings and do a bit more reading. But certainly, I don't mind. Particularly considering how often you've fed me without me lifting a finger!"

"Great, thanks. Come with me."

Cooking with Erin was an... experience.

Dainix appreciated the effort. Dainix also wondered if Erin would ever attempt this again.

Dainix and Erin stood alone in the middle of the modest kitchen, ingredients and equipment arrayed on the counter. Alinua had kindly grown Dainix a bounty of vegetables just before reaching town, and the group had gotten some dried meats, breads, and other supplies on Erin's dime and Alinua's trading skills. The equipment was a modest set that came with the place they were staying in: a few pots and pans, a couple of knives, a few utensils. Dainix would supplement it with his own knife set, of course. Dainix surveyed the supplies, considering what to make. Perhaps a stew? That would be both forgiving and hearty. But did he have enough hearty ingredients here?

Erin turned to Dainix and clapped his hands together. "So," said Erin brightly, "what recipe are we following?"

Dainix stared at him blankly. "Recipe? What do you mean?"

Erin blinked back at him. "We... are following a recipe, right? Isn't that how cooking works? Isn't it a science?"

Dainix shook his head. "I learned it as more of an art. Think of it like training martially: you may learn a sequence of forms that help you learn the movements, but on the field, you have to react to what's happening, not follow some preconceived set of steps."

Erin frowned. "A kitchen always seemed more like a laboratory to me. Food isn't going to jump up and attack us, is it?" 

Dainix chuckled. "Fair. No, it's not. But still, recipes aren't how I learned."

"This is going to drive me insane, isn't it," said Erin dryly.

Dainix's spirits dropped. "If you don't want to--"

"No, no, it's fine. Perfectly fine! I want to help. Or try, at least." He started pulling supplies out of his bag of holding: those strange, dehydrated blocks that Dainix refused to believe were food. They couldn't be. Food didn't look like building materials. "These are magically compressed noodles, starches, and blocks of protein and fat. If you'd like to use them, you're welcome to."

"Ah, no thank you," said Dainix quickly. "No need."

"If you're sure. More for me, then." Erin stuffed the instant food(?) blocks back into his bag. "So, what are you thinking? What would you like me to do?"

"I'm thinking we'll make a stew," mused Dainix. "We still have some root vegetables Alinua grew. Those should add enough substance, and spices should help add depth to the flavor and make it savory." He prowled around the counter, inspecting the vegetables. "We'll need to wash these and slice and dice them first. Until you're used to the timings, it's best to have everything prepped before you start putting ingredients over the fire--especially when several of them will take about the same amount of time to cook."

To Erin's credit, he did the washing well. Under Dainix's watchful eye, he scrubbed off every speck of dirt. In Erin's words, it "made perfect sense that we need to get rid of contaminants."

He struggled, however, with the slicing and dicing.

Erin frowned at the offending carrot. "You said we need to make these into chunks?"

"Carrots are skinny enough to just slice for the thinner part. Then yeah, you can cut the thicker part into thinner halves before slicing the rest of it." Dainix pressed the hilt of the knife into Erin's hands and manually adjusted his grip, then wrapped his fingers over Erin's and guided the knife through a few cuts. "Like that."

Erin stared at the knife blankly for a few seconds.

Slowly, painstakingly, he started to cut the carrot.

Erin was precise, Dainix would give him that. He tried to match the width of Dainix's slices exactly. But to do so with his unpracticed hand, he took forever and an age to get through the one carrot, and they had several more to chop. Dainix grabbed half from the pile and blazed through them on the spare cutting board. While Erin glared determinedly at his own, Dainix sneakily lifted more from his pile and chopped those as well. By the time Erin finished the second carrot, Dainix had completed the rest.

Erin looked at his meager pile, then at Dainix's considerably larger one. His shoulders slumped. "I'm more of a hindrance than a help, aren't I?"

"You're not a hindrance," Dainix assured him. "It's nice to have company for this, either way." Dainix reached for a turnip and instructed Erin briefly on how to cut these, since they were more bulbous and took a bit more cutting lengthwise. "I've missed it. I used to cook with my dad all the time."

"Oh? Was he a chef?"

Dainix laughed, surprised. "No! He crafted equipment like herbal medicine and smoke bombs for the field. Mostly for my mom. She's Ravvan, like me. But most people learn how to cook, where I come from. It's a helpful survival skill."

"I'm quite certain no one in my family cooks much," said Erin dryly. "Well... My mother may know how, and I suppose she has participated, on occasion. But my father insisted on paying for a chef."

Dainix tilted his head. "Huh. Was he strapped for time?"

"Well, being an emissary and slimy bureaucrat does keep one busy." Erin chopped the turnip aggressively. 

Dainix almost felt bad for the vegetable. It hadn't done anything but exist, after all. He felt worse for Erin. "I take it your dad isn't a nice guy."

"He bought Tess as a slave," said Erin tightly. "That should tell you everything you need to know about him."

Dainix stopped mid-slice, stunned. "That's terrible."

"Believe me, I--OW!"

Dainix's stomach dropped.

Blood dripped from Erin's hand and spilled across the cutting board, staining the turnip crimson. Erin hastily set aside his knife, grabbed a towel, and hurried over to his bag of holding, cradling his hand to his chest.

"Erin--" Dainix began.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I have a healing lacrima somewhere... around... ah, blazes."

"Why a lacrima?" asked Dainix, confused. "You can use life magic, so...."

"This--this is true. Yes, I could simply cast without one." Looking inexplicably nervous, Erin brushed the tattoo on his arm with his fingers. A green halo expanded and whirled around his wounded hand, and gradually, the skin knit itself back together. Erin wiped the bloody residue off his skin with a damp kerchief. His manner was nonchalant, careless, almost. But Dainix had noticed the moment of anxious concentration, had heard the quiet sigh of relief. "Sorry for the mess," said Erin ruefully. "I'll help you clean up."

"No worries. I'm glad you're healed." Dainix tilted his head, considering. "You need to use those tattoos to channel magic, is that right?"

"...Yes." Erin shifted uncomfortably. "It was a necessary procedure. Anyway!" He clapped his (now healed and whole) hands together. "I'll clean up. I assume we don't want any blood-borne pathogens in our stew. Not that I'm sick or riddled with germs--well, not more riddled than the average person--"

Dainix let Erin ramble as, together, they wiped down the counter and cutting board. Erin, Dainix reflected, was nearly as cagey as Falst. He was friendlier on the surface, sure, more conversational. But that deflection? Erin was keeping something close to his chest. Something to do with why he got those tattoos. Something about casting magic, for him....

He'd said his family had turned to the Soul-Shaper monks before, hadn't he? What if--

"I should throw this turnip out, shouldn't I?" said Erin wryly. He gestured to the red-stained vegetable.

"Oh--oh yeah."

Dainix abandoned his musings. Whatever was going on, Erin didn't want to talk about it yet. Or he wasn't ready.

Dainix missed the openness of the Ravvan, the trust formed by sindahlans--years--of teamwork. (Dainix missed being trusted. Being trustworthy.) It wasn't the same with this group, yet. They needed more time.

"Should I... try another turnip?" asked Erin uncertainly.

But by Jiya, Erin was trying.

"Yes, please, that'd be great. I'll handle the onion."

"Let's hope I don't mess up this one," muttered Erin as he reached for the vegetable.

...He was trying, and he was hard on himself.

Dainix placed a gentle hand on Erin's shoulder. Erin startled, then stilled, staring up at him with bemusedly. Dainix had noticed that tendency too: Erin didn't seem averse to physical affection, per se, but he really didn't seem to expect it, either, outside of his interactions with his sister. Nonetheless, Dainix smiled warmly and said, "It's okay to mess up. Thank you for cooking with me. Really."

Erin managed a smile. "You're quite welcome."

"Want to hear stories about the mess-ups I did?"

"Sure."

The cooking went more smoothly after that. No more knife wounds. Erin was still slower at everything than Dainix, highly particular and not at all confident. But eventually, all the vegetables made it to the pan for sautéing over high heat, then to the pot to simmer. Dainix stirred and hummed and sprinkled spices in when it seemed right to do so, encouraging Erin to sample the stew with him as they went along.

"How much of that will it need?" asked Erin dubiously as Dainix added yet more turmeric.

Dainix sampled the bubbling liquid and frowned. "A bit more, I think."

"But how much, total?"

"We'll know it when we taste it."

"It already tastes fine!"

"When it's right, it'll taste great."

Erin's groan of frustration made Dainix laugh.

But when the stew was finally ready--when the air was heady with aromas, and the rest of their group had trickled back in and clustered around, eyeing the stew eagerly--Dainix had Erin taste it one last time. Erin's eyes widened, and he let out a soft, awed "oh." And Dainix thought, perhaps, that Erin finally understood what Dainix had meant: that threshold between food that was pretty good, and food that was just right.

"Your cooking," said Erin thoughtfully, "is like Alinua's magic. It's instinctive and unscientific and does, in fact, drive me insane, but I can't argue with the results."

Dainix grinned. "Considering what I've seen Alinua's magic do, that's pretty high praise."

Alinua was too busy devouring her bowlful to react, but Dainix thought he saw the tips of her ears flush with pleased embarrassment.

"Well," said Erin, smiling, "you deserve it."

The genuine warmth in his words made Dainix feel light.

The next morning, Dainix caught Erin poking at one of his instant meal things. Dainix despaired internally, then grabbed his arm and hauled him off to make omelets. "So help me Jiya, if you make yourself sick on those things--"

"They're not poison! They're not good, I'll grant you, but--"

"Please, please let me feed you something better."

Erin relented. 

He didn't magically transform into an eager cook over the coming days, or anything. He was still either too caught up in precise measurements and rote procedures, or he was too distractible, liable to run off and jot down thoughts and theories. He tried, though. He attempted to cross the chasm of procedure versus intuition. Every once in a while, Erin lent Dainix his hands, slow and unconfident though they were. When Erin didn't help, sometimes he kept Dainix company anyway, studying textbooks or simply making conversation, while Dainix and sometimes Alinua or Kendal wielded the chef's knives.

As Erin ate more and more proper meals, the instant ones made appearances less and less.

The others seemed to have taken Dainix's cooking habit in stride, and they quickly learned to expect that Dainix would prep a meal for them, if they had ingredients and time. Alinua and Kendal seemed to enjoy helping him if they weren't otherwise occupied, too. 

But Falst never seemed to assume that he'd get to eat what Dainix cooked. He never approached the communal pot, and he kept treating Dainix's offerings like they were fragile, like they might vanish or be taken away--or, at least, like they were not something to take for granted. Then he'd taste them, and for a moment, Falst's eyes would fill with wonder. It warmed and broke Dainix's heart all at once.

Until one day.

Falst's arm had long finished healing, and they were on a long stretch of road between their prior stop and the next city, in wild lands rich with flora and fauna. Falst had said something about scouting ahead and scampered away. Only now, when they'd already stopped to make camp, did Falst reappear. He stepped out of the undergrowth, disheveled and wild-looking, with a massive, dark form slung over his shoulders.

THUD. "Brought you something," said Falst.

Dainix stared, openmouthed, at the boar carcass Falst had dropped at his feet. 

The boar was nearly as large as Falst himself. Seriously, that thing was enormous. And dangerous-looking. Wickedly curving tusks and a brown-bristled hide contrasted starkly with the soft meadow-grass of their chosen campsite. Falst's claws were bloodied, his shirt scuffed and torn, and his hair ruffled. His tail bristled and flicked. He was scowling, but he also avoided Dainix's gaze, and his cheeks were slightly red.

In the background, Alinua, Kendal, Erin, and Tess all paused what they were doing (setting up a tent; growing fruits; lying in the grass) to stare in surprise.

Dainix tried to wrap his head around what in Jiya Falst was thinking. Okay, so Falst was making him an offering, which was probably meant to be a friendly overture. Which was unusual but incredibly sweet, coming from Falst. Falst jumping to do something reckless and overkill, however, struck Dainix as significantly less unusual--and he'd clearly tussled with this boar up close. Dainix looked Falst up and down, checking for signs of injury. He didn't see any, but Falst was notorious for masking and denying everything from emotional vulnerability to fractures.

...And Falst was looking more and more uncomfortable, because Dainix had been staring too long.

Dainix cleared his throat. "Thanks. Uh. That's really nice of you."

"It's fine if you don't want it," muttered Falst. "I just thought you like fresh ingredients for cooking."

Ah.

Oh, this is adorable.

Dainix smiled warmly. "I do. This is great. I can probably make a few dishes with this--maybe grill and season some of the meat into steaks, make other parts into a stew, turn some of it into jerky for long-term storage..."

Falst visibly perked up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And you're more than welcome to help taste-test each dish."

"Sure." Falst hesitated, like he was wrestling to bring himself to say something else.

Dainix waited patiently.

He was soon rewarded.

Falst scratched the back of his head. "I can help you cook, if you want. If you tell me what to do."

Dainix beamed. "I'd love that."

"I volunteer as second taste-tester," Tess called eagerly.

Falst bristled. "It's Dainix's--"

Dainix rested his hand lightly on Falst's shoulder and pitched his voice soft. "It's fine. We can't eat this entire thing by ourselves."

Falst deflated.

Dainix's arm slipped around Falst consolingly, and he exerted tremendous effort to keep the amusement out of his voice. "You'll be my primary taste tester and my second set of hands tonight, though. Come on. Let's get the campfire and cooking pot set up."

Falst acquiesced. He also leaned into Dainix's touch instead of away.

That subtle give, that hint of intimacy, kindled a tender warmth in Dainix's chest.

It became immediately and painfully apparent that Falst had never cooked a proper sit-down meal in his life.

"Falst, hold on. I have backup knives you can borrow."

Falst stopped in the middle of trying to tear and shred a chunk of boar meat with his claws. "But you made me wash my hands. What's the point if I'm not using them?"

"You are using them. Partially. Sanitation is incredibly important with food, and it's impossible to avoid handling the food at least a little with your hands when you're prepping it. That doesn't mean you have to use your bare hands for everything!" Dainix pulled one of his secondary knives out of the hidden compartment in his wrist guard. It was smaller than his hunting knife, really meant for throwing in an emergency, but it was very sharp and easy to handle. Dainix passed it to Falst. "I always keep them honed, so it should slide right through the meat. Don't let your fingers get in the way."

Falst frowned. "You sure? It's small."

Dainix pulled a significantly larger knife out of his boot. A dagger, really, meant for close combat. "This one works too. Or if you prefer, you can borrow my hunting knife. It's the ideal size for meat prep, easy for beginners, and I'm pretty experienced with my other knives, so--"

"This one's fine," said Falst quickly. "You don't have to give up your favorite."

Dainix put his boot knife back. "If you're sure. Now, you want to angle it like this and cut along the muscle, try to make the cuts' thicknesses even..."

It was a gory business, prepping the boar, removing its hide and sorting out its component parts. The bones were bundled together in a pile to be used for stock, the organs laid out, the meat sliced into strips. Falst struggled with the knife at first, too. Dainix reached over and gently closed his fingers over Falst's a few times, guiding his use of the blade, trying to help him get a feel for how to wield it. The first time Dainix did this, Falst froze; but then he relaxed, and he watched Dainix's hand with a peculiarly soft, wondering expression.

By the time they were done with prep, both their hands were bloody messes again. So, naturally, Dainix dunked his hands in their small, makeshift washbasin.

"Aren't they just gonna get messy again?" asked Falst.

"Not nearly as messy as they are now. We just did the most laborious part of this."

Upon considering the size of the boar and the amount of cooking they were about to do, Dainix started three campfires: one for the giant cooking pot, one for the frying pan, and one for a baking rack to prepare jerky. Kendal sat near the third and watched them work, politely bemused. Alinua lounged nearby, idly growing flowers. A pile of fresh-grown carrots and root vegetables sat near her; she'd generously grown them to accompany the meat for the stew, at Dainix's request. Erin, who was evidently not fond of blood and beast viscera (understandable), had wandered some distance away and was scribbling in his journal. Tess was scouting. Dusk tinged the horizon, and all kinds of night-creatures were liable to come prowling if they weren't careful.

Honestly, Dainix might not have risked this if he didn't have several powerful allies watching his back--and if the meadow they'd scouted out hadn't appeared so peaceful. No ruins. No peculiar structures. Within half a day's travel to the next town, so if something sinister was out here, they likely would have heard about it from other travelers.

Dainix scorched the bones to weaken them, then dumped them and a bucket of water in the cooking pot.

Falst wrinkled his nose. "I don't usually eat the bones."

"We're not eating them. We're boiling them down to form a stock for the stew."

"What does that do?"

Dainix answered happily.

The thing about Falst was that beneath all that hard-edged, bristling guardedness, he was smart. And inquisitive. He asked a lot of questions, and he cottoned on quickly when Dainix explained how to do something new. In the past hour alone, Falst's struggles with Dainix's smaller knife had turned into deft, smooth work. It was fun to explain all the technical details of cooking to him, too. Dainix had known them so long that he took them for granted, these days, but describing them all illuminated how much skill went into cooking.

Dainix owed his parents so much for teaching him.

Just then, like a gut punch, homesickness hit him again.

Dainix took a deep breath. He dared to hope he'd be able to return, someday. And perhaps he could bring his new friends to visit. If they wanted.

"Dainix?"

Dainix came back to himself. He'd stopped in the middle of greasing the massive frying pan. 

Falst watched him closely, his pupils dilated, his voice just a touch softer than normal. "Something wrong?"

Dainix shook his head. "Nothing, I just... Thanks for doing this with me. I appreciate it."

Falst tilted his head. "Why? Seems like more of a favor to me. You keep having to explain stuff."

"It, uh. I like cooking with friends, and I've missed cooking with my family and Ravvan comrades. One of the hardest parts of exile was losing that. Losing their companionship generally, really, but food was one of the main ways we bonded."

"...Oh."

"Anyway," said Dainix quickly, "since these steaks are seasoned and ready to go, we'll want to cook them just right. So we need to get this pan hot first, to sear them quickly and lock in the juice. Keeps the meat tender and flavorful."

"Got it."

Between the prep work and the actual cooking, the boar took hours to turn into dinner. The moons were out and luminous by the time Dainix and Falst finished with the steaks and stew, and the jerky would stay over the fire for a while yet. Everyone, including Tess, sat around the campfire, watching and waiting with varying degrees of patience. Kendal seemed entirely unperturbed, merely curious. Erin, in contrast, had resorted to one of his instant-cup crimes against food to tide him over.

But it was worth it.

Dainix passed Falst a plated steak, a knife, and a fork. "Please do the honors?"

"Uh, okay." Tentatively, Falst cut a piece off the steak and stuck it in his mouth.

His eyes widened. His ears shot up. His tail curled. He chewed, staring vacantly, then swallowed. "Fuck that's good," he mumbled, and took another bite. And another. And another. His enjoyment was palpably visceral.

Dainix beamed.

Everyone else grabbed plates and bowls, and Dainix ladled out generous quantities of food for them all. (Alinua, who didn't seem as keen on meaty meals, had a mountain of stir-fried vegetables with her servings.) Dainix served himself last--not that there'd been any worry about running out; the quantity of stew, in particular, was obscene--and dug into the stew. The ingredients practically melted in his mouth, a medley of tender meat, vegetables, and spices that he'd managed to balance just right.

He was running low on his favorite spices, now. The boar had almost tapped him out.

It was worth it.

From then on, every time they camped or stayed anywhere within reach of wilderness, Falst made a point of bringing Dainix something. Nothing as grand or excessive as the boar again, but smaller things, things that could fit in a single meal and be prepared more quickly. Rabbits and partridges. Mushrooms gathered from the shadows of tree trunks. Berries, once, but Falst seemed to think (justifiably) that plants weren't as worthwhile to hunt down, given that Alinua could grow them so easily. Falst made a point of helping Dainix cook these things, too, staying close and learning with keen ears and sharp eyes.

Sometimes, Kendal or Alinua would help as well, though they often left Dainix and Falst to their own devices.

"You're welcome to join us, if you want," Dainix kept assuring them.

"I know." Alinua smiled up at him. Warmth and amusement danced in her verdant eyes. "But I think Falst likes having you to himself sometimes." Dainix flushed, startled. Her smile widened, and she lightly touched Dainix's arm. "I'll join you next time."

Tess usually wandered in halfway through a cooking session and eagerly commented on whatever they were making, then wandered away again until it was time to eat. When Dainix cooked with Falst, Erin preferred to keep his distance and scribble in his journal, though he always voiced appreciation for anything Dainix made for the group.

One day, when Falst brought Dainix yet another catch, Dainix looped his arm around Falst's shoulders and drew him close--affection without thought or question. Falst melted into it, no hesitation, like it was as natural to him as breathing.

It wasn't. Dainix knew it wasn't. Dainix still remembered how hostile Falst was when they first talked, and Dainix still saw how wary Falst was around most other people, how large his personal bubble was. Even Tess was kept at an arm's length. Even Erin wasn't welcome in Falst's physical space for non-tactical reasons.

But with Dainix--

Falst leaned into him. "Let's make curry."

--he softened, a little. He trusted.

One day, Dainix woke up and felt disgusting.

For one horrifying heartbeat, he actually thought his throat was full of void slime. Dainix's stomach lurched. He jackknifed up to sitting, clutching his bedsheets, and--and he was clutching bedsheets. He was in a room with six bunk beds and a washbasin. Sunlight streamed in through the window. Right. After a few rough nights and a blizzard full of ice beasts, they'd made it to a city hunkered in the shelter of a mountain. Dainix was fine. He just had some gunk in his throat--no, wait, also his nose. And his head ached. His whole body ached, in fact.

Most alarming of all, Dainix felt cold.

Dainix never got cold and never overheated. He blazed with internal fire. But now he was sweaty and shivering, even though his skin was hot to the touch, like--

"Oh," croaked Dainix.

He clapped a hand to his mouth. Was that his voice now?

"Shit."

The alarm drained out of him, and with it, so did his will to sit upright. He felt exhausted.

Dainix lay back with a groan. It was late morning already, judging from the sun. The others were gone, probably out running errands or exploring the city. Or maybe they were sitting in the embassy's lobby, lounging and waiting for Dainix to join them. Perhaps he should.

"Ah--ah--CHOO!"

The gob of snot that escaped him told him, actually, no. He should not. In fact, Dainix should not leave this bed. If they needed him for something, they could come back and find him cocooned here, mired in sweat and sickness and fever-chills. And then hopefully they would deduce that he was not up to doing things, turn around, and deal with whatever thing needed dealing with on their own. And Dainix could lie here in peace and try to pretend like he didn't exist, at least until existence became less miserable.

It did occur to him that he should probably eat or drink something. But the effort required to haul himself out of bed and trudge to a food source--and on top of that, the effort required to eat something when he didn't even feel hungry--killed that idea pretty fast. Nutrition could wait. He'd eaten well enough last night, so it wasn't urgent. Right?

Dainix buried his face in his pillow.

Time crawled by. Dainix drifted in and out of consciousness, pulled from slumber by hacking coughs and pulled back into it by fatigue. Eventually, the creak of an opening door reached Dainix's ears, and footsteps pattered on hardwood floor. "Hey Dainix," said Falst, "I was wondering if--Dainix?!"

Dainix didn't bother looking up. "M'sick," he mumbled.

A cool, surprisingly gentle hand brushed Dainix's cheek, then felt his forehead. Falst inhaled sharply. "I'm getting Alinua," he said, his voice tight with worry. And before Dainix could dredge up a reply, Falst sprinted off.

"I can't heal this," said Alinua grimly. 

Tendrils of green light receded, and Dainix bit back a curse. The others were all clustered around him. Kendal's brow was creased, and his mouth was set in a line like he was prepared to do something drastic to help. Falst watched Dainix with visible anxiety, his tail bristling, his eyes locked on Dainix's face. Erin frowned. Tess didn't look anxious, per se, but she did look a bit concerned. Alinua had a hand on Dainix's back, helping him sit up. Her expression was full of worry and sympathy.

"He's technically uninjured, and his soul barrier's intact. Nothing... Nothing feels really wrong." Alinua bit her lip. "I mean, I can tell he's sick, but his body is reacting correctly to fight it off."

Dainix stifled another sneeze.

Erin hummed thoughtfully and cast a green spell circle of his own. Runes danced and whirled before Dainix's eyes as Erin examined him with an almost scientific curiosity. "Alinua's right," he surmised. "He has no serious injuries, no magical corruption, and his soul barrier is thoroughly asserted. The worst I'm picking up on is some inflammation triggered by the infection. Ah, and a raging fever that I would find absolutely alarming in anyone else, but frankly, Dainix always runs warmer than most people should run, so I assume it's either an Ignan thing or a Crucible thing." Erin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You were fine last night, weren't you?"

"He was picking at his food," asserted Falst. He was still watching Dainix's face. "And he seemed kinda tired. Though I couldn't tell if that was because of the fights or something else."

Dainix blinked. Come to think of it, he had been feeling a little off. But he'd thought that was normal, considering their trials getting here, and it hadn't been that bad. He was surprised Falst had picked up on it.

"Huh," said Tess. "Well, our buddy's for sure looking rough now."

"Ah," said Erin. "So he was already on the verge of illness, from the sound of it. It must have gotten its hooks in him on the road and flared up overnight. I wonder... His magic grants him some immunity to extreme temperatures, I've gathered, but perhaps maintaining that in this climate taxed his body's defenses?" Lightly, Erin addressed Dainix. "You do have a habit of wandering around topless. While I can respect your decision to be an incredibly buff shirtless scene at all times, that probably doesn't help in subzero temperatures."

If Dainix were feeling better, he would have chucked a pillow at Erin's face. As it was, he settled for a withering stare.

Tess, like a true friend, put Erin in a headlock. Then, like a traitor, she said, "Hate to say it, but he's got a point."

Falst's ears flattened. "He smells bad. Can't we do anything?"

Dainix gave Falst a dry look. "I'll take a bath when..." He nearly choked on his own phlegm. "...When I'm up to it."

"Not what I meant."

"Regrettably," said Erin as Tess released him, "I don't believe we can do much. Well, aside from ensuring he has proper bed rest and providing him with warm drinks and easy-to-consume food."

Part of Dainix wanted to suggest that everyone shut up.

The rest of him knew better than to be a jerk to his friends just because he was feeling crappy. They were only trying to help. Lashing out needlessly was a tendency he'd trained for years to get rid of. So he clenched his jaw and said nothing.

Alinua eased him back down, letting him lie horizontal, and pulled the blankets back up over him. "You get some rest, okay? I'll make you an herbal infusion that should help with some of the symptoms. One of us can bring you porridge from the inn, too." She paused. Slim fingers smoothed hair out of Dainix's eye. "Beyond that, I think at least one of us should stay here to watch over him."

"I'll do it," said Falst immediately.

No one seemed surprised. Even Dainix wasn't, really. Beneath all the wariness and rough, angry edges, Falst cared deeply--and he'd been radiating anxiety ever since he'd found Dainix ill.

"Well," said Erin brightly, "that's settled! Let's scatter and commence Operation Coddle Dainix, shall we?"

Dainix wanted to respond to that, but his body chose that moment to hack up a wad of phlegm.

The brew Alinua made him did help, a little. Dainix wasn't sure if it was the plants or the hot liquid, but some of his congestion eased. He also realized, upon drinking, that he'd been parched. Dainix was probably more dehydrated than he'd thought. A relieved Alinua took his empty cup and departed to get more ingredients and make him a bigger batch. Falst, meanwhile, brought a chair over to Dainix's bedside and curled up in it, his arms wrapped around his knees.

But when Kendal approached the bed with a bowl of porridge, Dainix took one look at it and said flatly, "No thanks."

If Dainix were well, he might have enjoyed the porridge. At minimum, Dainix would have willingly eaten it. It was a perfectly inoffensive, simple dish. A bit bland, maybe, but otherwise well made. Good texture and evenly cooked, from the looks of it. Right now, however, it was a bowl of pale, thick goop that Dainix wanted nothing to do with and would not force into his already uneasy stomach.

"Uh," said Kendal. "Are you sure?"

Dainix turned away and hid his face beneath the pillow.

"Dainix." Falst's voice was strained. "You need to keep your strength up."

"Ngh."

"Maybe we should leave him be," suggested Kendal quietly. "See if he's hungry later."

"But if he doesn't eat..."

Oh, Dainix hated how distressed Falst sounded.

Reluctantly, Dainix peeked out from beneath the pillow. He tried to convince himself to sit up. He tried to tell himself that he could manage a few bites, if only to assuage his friends' worries. But his stomach churned at the thought.

Actually, it heaved.

Dainix lunged for his wyrmsilk cloak. He seized it just in time: his vision flashed orange, and fire, phlegm, and bile spewed from his mouth. Kendal and Falst reeled backwards as Dainix expelled the mess into his cloak. The cloak itself was fine. The black, sooty residue was probably whatever gunk Dainix had vomited up and fried.

Dainix grimaced and massaged his throat. On the upside, it did feel pretty clear now. On the downside, it felt sore and scratchy. "Maybe if I do that a few more times," he rasped, "I'll burn away all the germs."

Kendal patted his arm, then went and placed the offending porridge on a small table across the room. Far, far away from Dainix. "In case you want it later," said Kendal. Then: "I'm going to check on Alinua."

"Thanks," Dainix managed.

Kendal gave Dainix one last, sympathetic look, then left.

Dainix dropped back with a thump and a groan.

Falst felt Dainix's forehead again. Then, hesitantly, he smoothed Dainix's hair away from his eyes, much as Alinua had earlier. His other hand found one of Dainix's and interlaced their fingers. "I'm sorry you're feeling shitty." His words were rough, but his voice was small. Scared.

Dainix wondered if Falst was thinking of his mother.

Gently, Dainix squeezed Falst's hand. "Sorry for scaring you. I'll be okay, I promise."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Falst kept smoothing Dainix's forehead, even though there was nothing left to smooth. He didn't let go of Dainix's hand, either. Falst's grip was definitely stronger than it had been that first time in the ruins, but it was gentle and careful. The hand on Dainix's head gradually migrated to his scalp. Falst's claws scratched gently and combed through Dainix's hair. It was strange, but nice. Comforting. It soothed Dainix's headache, too.

Or maybe those painkillers from Alinua's brew were finally kicking in.

Maybe both.

Dainix spent the rest of the day drifting: waking long enough to drink another cup of medicine or tea from Alinua, or else to give Falst's hand a squeeze or press just slightly into his touch. Falst's breath kind of... faltered... whenever Dainix did that, but he couldn't have minded, since he always held Dainix's hand a little tighter or nestled his fingers deeper into Dainix's hair. At no point, however, did Dainix have any desire to eat the porridge. It grew cold on the table. During one of Dainix's sleeping spells, somebody took it away.

When evening neared, Falst gently shook Dainix's shoulder and murmured, "I'm gonna go take care of something. Tess'll stay with you, okay?"

Tess waved merrily from behind Falst.

Childishly, Dainix didn't want Falst to go. He wanted Falst to keep combing his claws through his hair, and he wanted to keep holding Falst's hand. But Dainix was not a child, sick and weak though he felt, so he simply said, "Okay."

Falst squeezed his hand once, then departed. He harbored a strange tension in the way he stalked out, like he was on a mission.

Tess slid into Falst's chair. "Hey, dude. Been resting a lot, huh?"

"Yeah," said Dainix hoarsely.

"Any more flame vomiting?"

Dainix shook his head.

"I'll level with you, I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, in your case."

"Probably fine," mumbled Dainix. And he went back to sleep.

A distant crash jerked Dainix awake. Tess was still with him, though she looked curiously at the door. "Uh, don't worry about that!" said Tess hastily. "I'm sure everything's fine."

Raised voices crept in from the next room over: the sitting area and kitchen attached to the sleeping quarters. Dainix thought he recognized Falst and Alinua among them.

"Yeah, probably fine, but I'm just gonna, uh, check on 'em real quick." Tess finger gunned the door and disappeared through it.

Dainix listened intently. He thought he still could hear voices arguing, but he couldn't tell what about. Within minutes, though, they abated. Tess returned, wearing a slightly strained grin. She gave him a thumbs up. "All good, no worries!"

Dainix let it go and nodded off again.

Much, much later, when the sky outside was dark and Dainix had lost all sense of time, Tess roused him. The door to the bedroom creaked open, and the entire party trickled in--and with them, a heady aroma that tickled even Dainix's messed up sinuses. Falst was in the lead, a bowl cradled in his hands. He hurried over to Dainix's bedside. Dainix reflexively tried to sit up, and Tess helped him, curling a metal-strong arm around his shoulders.

Falst held out the bowl, looking nervous. "We thought you might like this better than the porridge. You, uh. You don't have to eat it if you don't like it. But you can try it."

Dainix peered into the bowl.

It was full of curry, thick and creamy and bright orange. It was a shade more vivid than Dainix usually made his curries, like maybe it had extra spices or more of a brightly colored vegetable. Dainix would bet on the spices, though. Turmeric and volcano pepper, in combination, tended to tint dishes this kind of orange. But it looked similar enough to what Dainix made. It looked familiar. And Falst was offering it to him, and everyone else was hovering--Erin twiddling his thumbs and Alinua and Kendal watching him closely--and--and why was Dainix feeling so choked up about this?

Dainix swallowed back the swell of emotion and accepted the bowl, placing it in his lap. Cautiously, he tried a spoonful of curry.

It was spicy. Spicy enough that it punched through the guck of sickness and warmed Dainix inside and out. Spicy enough that, on a normal day, Dainix might have tried to balance it with just a touch more milk. But it was close enough to just right that he still would have eaten it. And today, when Dainix's senses were dulled by illness, he welcomed the heat. He let it blaze its way down and settle. His stomach, which had had nothing but fluids all day, gurgled--but miraculously, it accepted the food. In fact, Dainix felt the barest trace of hunger.

Dainix took another bite, more eagerly this time. "It's good," he managed between mouthfuls.

Falst's shoulders slumped with relief.

Alinua beamed.

Kendal smiled warmly, and Erin looked triumphant.

"You, uh." Dainix blinked back another spike of emotion. "You made this for me?"

"We did," confirmed Alinua. "It was Falst's idea, but we all pitched in."

"Except for me," said Tess cheerfully. "I mean, I guess I helped with some of the ingredients shopping. And I kept you company so the rest of them could cook. But otherwise, it was totally all them."

Falst's ear twitched, and he glanced away. "No big deal," he said quietly. "Just thought it might help you get your strength back up."

Dainix's heart melted. "Thank you so much. All of you."

Alinua grinned. "Happy to help."

"Glad to put those skills you taught us to use," added Kendal.

"You've certainly fed us enough when you've been feeling well," said Erin briskly. "It's about time we fed you anyway."

Falst, who still wouldn't quite look him in the eye, smiled lopsidedly and sat on the edge of Dainix's bed.

It struck Dainix, then, that he felt at home.

Not like Dainix's homeland. Not the glass house where he grew up. Nothing could quite be that. But this was a different kind of home.

And it was nice.