Closed Chicken Soup for the Soulless

[Phobius]

87th of Fall, 516 AV

When Phobius awoke, he turned over in his bed and craned his neck to look out the nearest window. It was around midday, and the sun hung low in the cloudless blue sea that was the sky, confusing the boy until he remembered that he’d been out making deliveries before he’d come home and fallen asleep. It was supposed to have been a short nap—something to refresh his spirits and soothe the aching soles of his feet—but a lot of time seemed to have passed since then. Perhaps he’d been a bit more tired than he’d thought.

He yawned and rolled onto his back, letting his eyes drift up to the spider webs that covered the dusty ceiling rafters. Dex’s house was old, and though it didn’t talk like the house that he and Kuvarakh had worked on had—the same house that Miss Maya had said he’d never come back from—it felt just as sad and lonely. He’d tried to cheer it up by buying nice things for it, like sweet-smelling flowers and a colorful glass vase, but even those hadn’t helped, and now he wasn’t sure what to do. Would painting it a different color make it a nicer, friendlier place to live? What about planting a little vegetable garden outside? One filled with tomatoes and carrots and onions and radishes—things that he and Dex could make into soup. Phobius smiled at the thought of them growing their own food; then the smile faded a little, and he stared at the old webbing as though it’d given him one of the best ideas in the world.

Soup. That was it—he could invite his friends over for dinner. It’d be like a party, albeit a small one, and even though he didn’t know how to make actual soup, there was a good chance that someone else did. Of course, if none of them wanted soup, they could always go out and get something else to eat; he just thought that it’d be nice if they cooked something together. Besides that, the whole thing would be the perfect opportunity for him to introduce Dex to Miss Maya and Mister Ekans; the Symenestra could use a few more friends in Alvadas, and what better ones were there than his own?

Eager to tell Dex all about his idea, Phobius rolled out of bed and started toward the door. His roommate hadn’t been home earlier, and he had a feeling that he could find him if he searched a few familiar places—after all, finding people was his job—but he stopped when his hand touched the doorknob, a sudden reluctance overcoming him. He didn’t doubt that Dex would be thrilled to have people over for dinner, but did he really have to tell him about it…? Wouldn’t it be much, much better if the whole thing was a surprise?

He thought about it for a moment, then looked over at Nini. The bird sat on a large tree branch that he’d dragged home a little over a month ago, staring at him as though she had read his mind and knew what he was planning to do—or rather, what he was planning not to do. He couldn’t tell what she thought of it, but he pressed a finger to his lips and shushed her, trusting that she would keep quiet as he walked out the door.

Not wanting to wander aimlessly around the city, the boy headed straight for the Bizarre. He and Dex had gone shopping right after he’d moved in with him, but that had been for furniture; if they were going to have people over, he was going to have to get some things that they could eat and cook with. When he reached the large, unassuming building, he slipped inside and wove his way through the bustling crowds, willing himself to ignore the tempting sights and smells around him as he searched for whatever it was that he would need. After a while, he stumbled upon a stand that sold all sorts of utensils and bought some forks, spoons, and knives from a short man with a short beard and even shorter, stubbier fingers. Not too far from that stand was another that sold pottery; from there, he bought a few bowls and a big cooking pot.

Feeling as though he’d gotten what he needed, Phobius then asked around for some paper and a pen. Once a nice woman had given them to him, he left. Next was Miss Maya’s house, which he managed to find within a few bells. He didn’t know whether she was home or not, but as much as he would have liked to check and say hello to her, he didn’t. Instead, he set his forks and spoons and bowls down, flattened one of his pieces of paper on the ground, and wrote a note for her:

Hi, Miss Maya! I’m having a party at my friend’s howse. The howse is old and red. You should come! And bring vegtabuls, so that we can make soop! - Phobius

The boy read it over a few times, then slid it underneath the woman’s door, grabbed his things, and hurried off before she could open it and see him if she was inside. It took much longer for him to find Mister Ekans’ house; he’d never been to it, before, and had to ask around until someone pointed him in the general direction of the “snake man with yellow and blue eyes”. Said snake man’s house turned out to be a rather plain-looking one made of stone. Again, he set his things down and wrote a note similar to Miss Maya’s, though with the Dhani’s name on it instead of hers. Then he slid it under his door and scurried back home, where Nini greeted him with a surprised squawk. Smiling at her, he lugged his purchased goods inside and started to set the table. Other than that, all that there was left to do was wait.

LedgerDinner Fork (X4) - 4 cm
Dinner Knife (X4) - 4 cm
Carving Knife - 3 cm
Table Spoon (X4) - 4 cm
Serving Spoon - 3 cm
Bowl (X4/16 oz.) - 15 cm
Cooking Pot (Gallon) - 3 sm

TOTAL = 33 cm, 3 sm

"This is speech in Nari."

This is thought.

[Aislyn Leavold]

Chicken Soup for the Soulless
87th of Fall / 516 AV
Past the Seventeenth Bell

Autumn was quite a lovely season. Always colourful, in the opposite way that spring in Alvadas tended to be. Spring was blue and green and pink, autumn, red and orange and bronze. Despite how late it was in the season, the air was warm in the way autumn in Alvadas could be, not a thick warmth but permeated by a cool breeze. Aislyn had always kept to her belief that Ionu’s proximity to Alvadas was what kept severe heat and chill at bay during the more extreme seasons. Aislyn had the windows to her abode open, though the curtains remained drawn. At one point the breeze caught the opaque fabric and the illusionist sent a wary glance to the briefly visible street beyond. Despite herself, she ducked out of sight of passerbys, behind the door until the wind settled down once again. Disillusioned and alone, her paranoia never ceased.

But at least the weather was nice.

Aislyn had risen earlier on, and she was fairly certain she had slept through the night, eventually decided to begin her day a bell or so after dawn. By about mid afternoon, Aislyn hadn’t particularly found the motivation to leave her dwelling, and had thus gone through quite a bit of parchment sketching, erasing, crumpling, and sketching again some sketches of whatever she found interesting within her house. She didn’t do still-life often and quite frankly dreaded the art of backgrounds, but there was little to draw without peaking out the window or otherwise leaving the house; no bystanders to cannibalize as subjects for her art needs. In between her seventh and eighth sketch of the pears ripening in a bowl on the counter, however, a note arrived, slipped under her door without fanfare. The illusionist directed her attention towards the mirrors meant to capture the image of anyone outside, but caught no such visage.
With a healthy amount of caution, Aislyn opened the small parchment facing away from herself, and when nothing of evil intent popped out eventually turned it towards her face to read. Pleasantly surprised, the illusionist found a familiar handwriting inscribed upon the paper.

A party. That was peculiar. Aislyn had never taken Phobius to be a party kind of person. Though granted, neither was she, so if the woman was entirely honest she quickly came to the conclusion that Aislyn herself would be most likely the only one attending this party. The boy seemed like a perfectly sociable person, but Aislyn didn’t know of many other people Phobius spoke to on a regular basis. So of course there was no question of whether or not she would attend.
Setting down her notebook, Aislyn contemplated her choices for a moment. After a short persuit through her limited kitchen, she found very specific and questionably aged vegetables. She didn’t exactly have much in the way of perishables, but, after a moment, an idea occurred to her, and she took a few ticks to take a key from her bracelet and unlock a chest by the foot of her bed. From it she drew her first journal, placing it in her bag next to whatever else she had scavenged. As an afterthought, she set a few of the pears from the table into the bag as well. By the time half a bell had passed “Maya” was donned and Aislyn set off for this old red house, wherever that might have been.

Ionu was in good spirits for the day, it seemed, as Aislyn took her respite through the city, passing a street corner that had an array of bubbles emanating from a puddle, small images of animals dancing within them. It was not long past that Aislyn found herself turning the street corner and meeting the sight of a bricked building, at the end of the thoroughfare. As she approached it, Aislyn found herself knowing there was absolutely no telling if this was the correct house, but there was certainly one way to find out. Moving to knock on the door, Aislyn found it to be slightly ajar. Pushing open the aged wood, the illusionist called out, "Phobius?" Inside, she heard the squawking of some sort of bird. Surely the correct place, then. With the slightest of smiles, she rapped her knuckles against the frame of the door. "May I come in?"

"Speech" - Thought

[Dexius]

I'm slightly less late for dinner.

[Yisanareysin]

Rey is just crashing this party like whaddup

Snake Tongue : Common : Arumenic