There's a Cat in the Kitchen.

[Faith Augustin]

40th Ashan 717

"I still say you shoulda come as a bunny. Mrs Bunny, you get me? Do you though?"
"Rarely, if ever." Faith replied, looking at the small bunny sitting on the table in front of her. He wasn't a usual sort of bunny at all, he had been born, after all, when he was drawn on a chalkboard. So, he was the chalk outline of a bunny, but he was her friend. Her rude, brash, obnoxious friend. "I didn't come as a bunny, I came as a cat. A silver cat, look." She removed the mask from her face and showed it to him.

The bunny was not impressed.

Standing at the table in the woods, Faith looked down at her dress. It was silver and knee length, sleeveless and with a tight bodice and a skirt which flared out and swooshed a lot. Glancing behind, her, though, she had to express how she felt. "You know PB, I don't think many cats wear dresses like this but look. I've got a tail." She grabbed the shimmering silver tail and smiled at him. "What did you come as?"
"Me? Why, Faith, me ole mukka, me ole spanner and wrench, you 'urts my feelins. I came as a chalk bunny." Faith could not help but smile.
"It isn't much of a disguise, PB. There's a prize for the best costume you know."
"Aye, love, I know. See, it's genius this is. There is no way you could tell I'm not a chalk bunny so obviously, I got the best costume, don't I?" Faith chuckled and shook her head.

Looking down at the table, she considered the vast array of food there. "You know, I don't think I'm going to get this all prepared in time for the party."
"I told you we should have called in caterers, didn't I? But nooooo, never listen' to ole PB, it's that whole slave mentality, you know."
"I do not have a slave mentality."
"Do so. If you didn't I wouldn't still be here, would I?"
"I have no intention of arguing with you. I have too much to do. There's going to be a feast and I need to get it all prepared." She was looking at it and, if the dreaming woman was dreaming what she knew then she was used to working with good ingredients and, judging by how she used the knife she was currently preparing some garlic with, how she casually took care of what was already cooking in the kitchen in the woods, she knew what she was doing.

"Well, it's alrigh' innit, my wonderful little feather an' folktale. Maybe he'll 'elp." Faith looked up and her silver eyes, almost identical to the mask and costume, caught sight of the young man who was walking into the kitchen in the clearing in the woods. She immediately smiled in greeting although at least these trials she didn't curtsy.
"Hello. I'm Faith," she looked about eighteen and, although her dress was fancy and her hair in a style, she wore no make up. The cat mask covered the top of her face, but she removed it as she saw that they had company. "This is PB, short for Plunder Bunny. Are you here to help with the cooking?"
"Wotcha," said the chalk bunny with a cheery wave.

[Arlo Creede]

The forest that Arlo was walking through wasn't the one outside of Desnind. It wasn't the Willow Woods. And it wasn't the one nearby his childhood home either. Instead, it was one of his own making, fashioned out of his own imagination. It hadn't started that way when he'd drifted off to sleep. It had been dark and foreboding then, with long shadows like thin, spindly and hooked fingers grasping at him.

A nightmare hadn't suited him that night though, so he'd banished the beasts who'd thought that they'd haunt and torment him. The forest became an idea place where the rivers ran crystal clear and cold and were crowded with fat, pink scaled leaping fish. The trees...their trunks were red as clay soil and as big around as a house, and their silver branches reached so high that no matter how he looked, he couldn't see their tops.

As he strolled, Lyova rested in the crown of his hat, enjoying the rare patch of sunlight that slipped past the branches. But as ideal as it was, there was something else that made the forest unusual. Something from Arlo's stores of memory had slipped in and finding it to his liking, he'd indulged the laps. The forest, the trees, the stream, all of it was more like a painting wrought by an artist's hand. In fact so was he, and Lyova too.

And just when he'd decided it was all too ideal and maybe he should stir up some trouble, the path ahead of him shimmered, and he knew it for what it was. The protective veil of another's dream, and another dreamer beyond it. The young dreamwalker was growing more experienced, and stronger trial by trial. He'd sensed it, and Lyova knew it. But this was the first time he'd stood outside another's dream with a conscious decision to make.

And so he made it and stepped on through, him still appearing like a living painting rather than living flesh. And he pulled the effect through with him where it cascaded over a scene already set by another. Her world as created by imagination and slumber, but with brush strokes. Her too, and also her little chalk rendered friend.

"Hello," he said, having walked into the tent and tipped his hat when he saw her. She wasn't much older than him, Arlo didn't think. Then again, she could be a crooked old woman slumbering somewhere, dreaming of her younger, more vibrant self. The costume was a curiosity. So was her little friend. But then he had Lyova who like a streak of electric blue, wet paint had darted off his hat and was peering into her cooking pot to see what was for supper.

"I'm Arlo," he said. "Nice to meet you Faith. And you too, PB." But was he there to help with the cooking? Well why not, he thought? He was a hand at it, though not an expert. And her dream, her party. "You having a party or something?" he asked. And sure he'd help. "What's cooking then?"

[Faith Augustin]

"Well I thought so." Faith replied, very seriously, when he asked if it was a party. "I expected there to be a party. I wore a frock."
"She did. She don't do that kind of thing much, she's a bit borin', mostly." Faith had ignoring the bunny down to a fine art.
"I believe that there was going to be a prize, for best costume and..."
"I came as a bunny. Cunnin' innit?" At PBs interjection, Faith sighed.
".. and I agreed to cater. I'm concerned, though. I thought there would be streamers and decorations. I was told there would be a merry-go-round, although I'm not sure what one of those is."
"Instead, there's just these tables an' all this food. So wot does herself do? Cook." It took some effort for a chalk outline of a rabbit to roll its eyes, but PB did it.

Not that Arlo could possibly know it but the "kitchen" was laid out like the cooks tent on the campaign to the Eastern Settlements. Faith smiled and gestured to the workshop on the left. "Well, there is what I'm working on at the moment. You see, I'm a doctor."
"She's not really a cat," interjected the bunny, dryly, "shockin' innit?"
"And I've been talking, recently with my.." The pause was slight, but it was enough.
"Bed warmer. Stud muffin'. Love bunny. You get me." PB's movements left it in no doubt what he was talking about and Faith sighed deeply.
"Boyfriend. My boyfriend. I'm sorry about PB, you get used to him. Anyway, I've been talking with him about different ways to deliver medicine, and it made me think. Why can't we make medicine taste good? And by that logic," she was animated, there was no doubting it. "Why can't we take something that tastes good and make it medicine? So. Over there is baked goods. Cakes, tarts, pies and bread. Here, we have savoury and cooked goods."

In front of her was a strange and unusual looking fish. "I'm going prepare this chrythiam fish and give it a herb crust which protects against fevers. Have you worked with them before, or would you rather a halibut?" PB slapped a small chalk paw to his small chalk forehead.
"I love 'er, I do. I'm part of 'er, in a funny way. But like.. would you rather a halibut? She means it you know."
"I'd never seen one of these before I started working in the restaurant. They're unique to the island, or so I believe." Handing Arlo the small and very peculiar looking fish Faith asked very seriously. "How long have you lived on Scalvoris, Arlo? We're fairly new here." She looked around, though, and sighed slightly. "I was sure there'd be streamers. Will you help me get everything ready? Maybe then the party will start."

[Arlo Creede]

"There must be," Arlo responded, hands dropped into his pockets and deciding that if she'd imagined that there'd be a party, then there would be. The chalk bunny was an interesting addition, and the woman's ease with the banter implied it was a regular feature in her dreams. As if reading his mind, because she could in fact, Lyova whispered through the connection between them. "It doesn't see me, you know."

Of course he knew. Faith definitely wasn't a dreamwalker, Arlo was sure of it. So the thing wouldn't have been her companion and protector in the way that Lyova was to him. If it had, it would have been the oddest fairy he'd ever come across. Though in truth he'd only come across Lyova. "It sees me because she sees me," he answered back through their silent connection. "Unless you were to reveal yourself, then neither of them will." Of course Lyova already knew that, and was probably just testing him.

But the rabbit had a role here, he was sure. It was a figment of her imagination, but probably one that made a regular showing, as if it was a permanent part of her subconscious. No matter, she expected a party. She'd have one then. "Nothing wrong with cooking," he told PB as he had more of a look around at the scene she'd set for herself. "I do a little myself, time to time."

"It's a good costume," he said, smiled and turned to Faith. Why she'd chosen a cat? Arlo couldn't begin to guess. "I've come as a traveler." The rabbit was mouthy, irreverent and the dreamwalker liked him. So, food to medicine, medicine to food. She probably was a doctor, he thought. Reality had a strange way of mixing with fantasy and imagination, but Arlo was become a fair hand at sorting the two out.

"I don't see why you can't," he reasoned. "After all some foods are better for you than others, and don't medicines tend to come from natural things?" He'd never seen anything like that fish though, and he'd caught and eaten a lot of fish in his short life. "I've never seen anything like it, but I wouldn't mind learning to cook it," he told her. So, Scalvoris was it? He'd only heard small and vague snippets about the place, and it was a world away from Ne'haer. Or it might as well be.

"No, I'm not from around here. I'm just passing through," he said and grinned. "A traveler, remember?" He'd help her get everything ready and maybe he'd learn something in the process. But there was something else to consider. He was growing, trial by trial, more experienced as a dreamwalker, and his devotion to Jesine seemed to come with its own rewards. There were things he could do now that he couldn't have, just a dozen trials ago.

"You know, if its streamers that are needed, and a merry-go-round, was it?" he said, "We could always make those things happen ourselves. You might could do it all on your own in fact," he suggested, wondering what her dreaming mind would think of the suggestion.

[Faith Augustin]

"You does cookin' too? Famula's bouncy knockers, wot is it wiv you lot?" PB seemed to think that 'you lot' meant mortals, or humans or maybe just people who weren't chalk outlines of bunnies.
"PB, I don't like it when you are irreverent, you know." Faith chastised the bunny, "Especially about Famula, Vri or Moseke."
"She follows that lot." PB explained helpfully to Arlo, to Faith he gave a tooth-filled bunny grin. "I know luv. That's why I do it, innit?" Faith rolled her eyes and smiled at the obnoxious little fellow. "Tell me that you 'ave the redeemin' feature, Arlo of not followin' them long-lived lot? I mean, you need a bit of redemption, wot with doin' cookin' which is for girls."
"They aren't long lived, PB, they're Immortal."
"I dunno so much. We saw Xiur get the stabby stabby didn't we?" Faith sighed and shook her head, like they'd had this conversation a number of times. "Alrigh, alright. Jus' cos 'e didn't die doesn't mean he couldn't. Blood all over the place there was, shootin' out like..."

"Often, yes." Her reply to Arlo was about as firm as Faith ever got, speaking over the rabbit who continued with a very detailed mime of the "death" of the Immortal. "Medicines are naturally found. Sometimes, they can be made more, or less effective with a little meddling. Just like vegetables and cooking, really. For instance, this." She handed him a fairly inoffensive looking leaf. "That's a sweetwine vine leaf. If you pick it wrong, it's poison. But if you pick it correctly, then soak it in good wine, for example, just a small cut of it in the cook will add the flavour perfectly. Not just to liquids, but if it was fried or baked or anything." She considered it and grinned, suddenly looking far less serious and much more her age. "Or if you soak it in sugar syrup, then add it to a medicinal tea, it's sweet. Handy, isn't it?"

She showed him how to prepare the Chrythiam fish - it was a fiddly little beast, requiring careful preparation although the cooking was best just quickly seared in a very hot pan. If her dreaming mind was representing how it tasted correctly, then it was delicious. However, at his suggestion that they might create the merry-go-round and streamers, she looked up in surprise.

"Well," Faith considered with smile, "I am quite reasonable as a seamstress, so I suppose I could make streamers, but the merry-go-round? I don't really know what one is."
"She was born a slave. Not a lot of them merry-go-rounds in Athart where she was trained." PB said with a sage-like nod. "Now, I mean, I could tell her. But I won't."
"No you could not. He couldn't. He's been with me since I was born, he's never seen one either" The bunny's ears flopped, sadly and he gave a great big chalk-bunny sigh. "Why, are you a merry go round maker as well as a traveler? I'll certainly help if I can. I used to be an undertaker, so I have quite a lot of experience with wood and carpentry" She looked around, though with more than a little consternation on her face, the ears of her cat-mask twitching. "I just don't know where everyone else might have gotten to. Did you get an invitation?" Faith looked at Arlo with a very serious expression.

[Arlo Creede]

"People have got to eat, which means somebody's got to do the cooking," Arlo responded, grinning a little at what was, in effect, a figment of the dreamer's imagination. "I do most of my cooking on the road, over campfires or in the coals...Famula?" he asked Faith then. "You mean the Immortal of death?"

It struck him as a curious choice of worship for anyone really, or at least Arlo had a hard time relating. He was young. So far as he was concerned he'd live forever. He wouldn't have guessed it of her though. It struck him for some reason that followers of Famula wouldn't be a lively or cheerful lot.

What really grabbed his attention was the mention of Xiur, and the Immortal of Hope being murdered. Funny that this was the second time that the topic had arisen in Emea. So, conceivably there was a man in Etzos who'd done it, and maybe this woman who didn't seem much older than himself had seen it happen.

Arlo would probably stay away from sweetvine, was he ever to run across the stuff. There were plenty of other things to cook and eat that weren't inclined to kill a body on an apparent whim. "Handy, sure," he agreed as he watched her preparing the fish. "But I'm no healer, just a traveler. I think I'll leave the medicines to the medics. He observed her cleaning and preparing the fish though, and frowned curiously.

"I'm accustomed to cooking more over a fire. I wonder if you could clean the fish and wrap it in some soaked leaves, a little season, maybe some wild onions and place it into the coals?" It would steam the fish, he explained. As for PB's early question, Arlo smiled and shrugged. "I'm afraid so," he said, regarding worship and devotion. "I'm a follower of Cassion." But if she'd been a slave like PB said, then the little chalk rabbit made some kind of sense.

Arlo hadn't thought much about slavery one way or the other. But if Faith had been a slave since early childhood, it might just explain an imaginary friend. But she'd been an undertaker too? Well maybe that explained the Famula fixation...in a creepy sort of way. What other Immortal would an undertaker worship, after all? "There's not much money in making merry-go-rounds or carousels, I'm thinking," Arlo said, and grinned while he tried his hand at preparing the fish.

"But I've seen one before. It was part of a traveling show that stopped near my home when I was a boy." As for the guests? Well he hadn't gotten an invitation, he told her. But then maybe if the streamers were up, and the carousel too, they'd begin to trickle in. So streamers? With another grin, Arlo began pulling long swaths of brightly colored cloth from out of his coat sleeve, and handed them to her one by one. "That's easily done, yeah?" he said. Now all she needed to do was hang them.

She could, if he could convince her to interact with her dream in such a way. Not exactly dreamwalking, but there'd be some lucidity going on. As for the carousel, he dreamed up a large wooden crate in the corner of her kitchen, filled with any number of things that might make a carousel like the one he'd seen once before. He was no engineer or builder, but imagination was enough to fill in the blanks.

"I'm betting the pieces are numbered, and there's a set of instructions there too. Probably, it'll snap together just like a puzzle," he suggested.

[Faith Augustin]

"No," Faith replied with a smile when he asked if Famula was the Immortal of death."Famula is the Immortal of souls, servitude, resurrection and blood, not death."
"Yeah, she's a right bundle of laughs. Real hit at parties, you know wot I mean?" Ignoring PB, Faith continued.
"Vri is the Immortal of death, love, sorrow and remembrance." PB simply shook his head and looked between Faith and Arlo.
"You know love, yer not selling it well."
"I'm not trying to sell anything, so that is good I would say, wouldn't you?" Faith gave PB a brief grin and the bunny grinned back.

When Arlo asked about cooking the chrythiam fish, though, Faith considered and nodded. "I'd do that, but not with the onions. It's a strange little creature and it takes on flavours. The onions would overpower it. If you soak the leaves, which is a good thing, soak them in oil with a little herb in it. If you carry oil with you, keep a small bottle with some basil and crushed garlic in it. A swig of that in a quarter pint of regular oil, soak the leaves in that, it will enhance the taste." Faith glanced up though, when he said he was a follower of Cassion and the young woman smiled. "Cooking makes even more sense. It's an act of devotion to you?"

With a smile as she handed him one of the fish to prepare the way he had suggested, sliding over the suddenly-there oils and leaves, she considered. "There's a festival to him here on Scalvoris every arc, you know. If you're still here in Ymiden. I've been reading about it in the library. During the sunlight people come together and share stories, they're all written down and put in books which are brought to the library. Then, in the night there's feasts and every table leaves a place for him with the best meal should he wish to join them. Legends say he always attends and comes to read the stories, there are thousands of them." She grinned at Arlo with a cheeky smile. "I'm going to be cooking, I'm a chef there. You should volunteer at the Knight's Rest. Though, by then I'll have Cally's up and running."

But cooking was completely forgotten as the young man in the hat started pulling streamers out of his sleeve. Faith and PB both watched entranced and she could not help but laugh. He couldn't know how rare a sound it was, but PB glanced at her and smiled. "I'll hang 'em, love. You go build that merry go round." PB was off and scampering over trees, hanging the streamers. Meanwhile, Faith moved over to the box and knelt next to it. She glanced up at Arlo as she did and spoke in a very matter of fact tone. "If you're cooking on a fire a lot, you might want to pop to the market here and get some yellow dragon wood. It burns for like a hundred trials without going out, just one log. But you can douse it with sand. Also, the sand on Faldrass is always warm, so you can make containers to keep food warm and nestle them in that sand. It's very clever. There's some over there, with the bread in it."

She concentrated then for a moment and started putting together pieces which soon became a carousel. "Oh look at that, it's beautiful!" PB stopped what he was doing and grinned a wide grin. "How do I make it big?" Faith asked and, somehow, her dreaming mind had made a small, fit in the palm of her hand sized, carousel.

[Arlo Creede]

Blood. So much cheerier than being the Immortal of Death, Arlo thought, and a wry grin crossed his young face and he nodded. "Ah, Vri then," he said, though he wasn't completely sure how one Immortal ended up drawing both death and love from the very same deck.

"I don't mind at all," he told PB though while he watched Faith at work in her kitchen. "It's part of being devoted, isn't it? Telling others about your faith? Although part of Cassion's domain is storytelling. So tell them a story, it pleases him well enough. And cooking too," he confirmed when Faith asked. "Immortal of travel, adventure, storytelling, hunger. Break bread with another, that sort of thing," he added and shrugged, turning his attention back to the fish.

So no onions, but soak the leaves in seasoned oil in order to steam the fish. It made good sense, and while they talked, he prepared a portion of the fish that she'd cleaned. "He turns up lots of places I guess." Cassion, he meant. And why not? Traveling was the Immortal's preference after all. "I met him, back in Cylus when I was in Desnind."

The dragon wood and the sand she described sounded particularly interesting. Something like either one of them or both would be useful for traveling and carrying food along. He might just visit the island sometime, Arlo decided. But if it was a party she'd dreamed of, then it was a party she ought to be having. One with a carousel no less. It struck him, if she'd been a slave since she was very young, she might never have ridden one herself. Some repressed wish maybe, and thus the thing had turned up in her dream.

So while PB hung the streamers, he helped her pull the carousel pieces out of the box and put them together. Didn't help the instructions were in Biqaj, but he tended not to read the instructions anyway, and did just fine. But it was a fine carousel, painted with rich, jewel like colors and gilded in gold. And all sorts of exotic beasts to ride on. Except that she'd dreamed one up that fit in the palm of her hand.

"You wish it bigger, that's how,"[/i] he told her with a smile, wondering if he'd be able to coax her into a lucid enough state to do it herself. "Close your eyes and wish it bigger, see it growing just where you want it," he suggested. And he'd wait to see what success she might achieve on her own. And if she wasn't able to? Easy enough for him to make it happen, and let her believe that she had.

[Faith Augustin]

"You did? I have never met him." Faith considered and then added, "But then, I haven't traveled much. Other than from Athart, where I was born to Rynmere when I was first bought." Did that even count as travel, she wondered and shrugged slightly with a grin. "Then, once I was free, we went on holiday to Rharne and then moved to Scalvoris. We got ruptured there, though, didn't travel." She frowned slightly, not quite sure that she approved, although she had to admit there was an efficiency which she appreciated.

"I have never been to Desnind. I would like to go, though, and pay homage to Moseke." PB snorted and shook his head.
"Anywhere in Idalos she can go now, anywhere. 'Er an' 'imself, they've got no reason not to. Where does she wanna go? Etzos and Desnind. I mean.... get yer crossbow, Arlo. Shoot me, stuff me, put me on the wall wot is wrong with her?" Faith shook her head and casually threw a bit of vegetable peel at PB who engaged in a sudden and very ham-acted portrayal of being struck in the heart and dying. As he flailed around, Faith ignored him and turned to Arlo with a grin.
"May the Immortals spare you from overly dramatic friends." However, before they got to the carousel she showed him how, should he wish onions with his fish, he might put a layer of soaked leaves around the fish, then onions and another layer of leaves. "It will give you a much more subtle flavour and not overpower the fish. It works well with white meat, too."

Looking down at the instructions, Faith quirked an eyebrow. "I can't read this language - can you?" Still, the pieces were numbered and it was just like a giant puzzle, she reckoned. Sitting on the floor with Arlo whilst PB scooted around making strange noises of delight, Faith raised an eyebrow when he said wish it bigger? "What a strange concept." She frowned at the carousel and then back to her hat wearing companion. "To be able to wish something into or out of existence, or to change it by the mere force of wanting to? A medics dream, I assure you."

Still, he seemed to know what he was talking about so Faith put the carousel down on the ground and wished it larger. Now that she could see it, she visualised and focused and, of course, in the earnest young woman's mind she tried much to hard. But then, a thought struck her and her brow creased in a different expression. "It is meant to be large, isn't it? Large enough for children to ride on. It can not serve its purpose if it is not." As she said that, as she realised that large was what it was meant to be, it grew. Just where she pictured it.

As it did, there was the sudden noise of the party which she had been expecting, but had not been able to subconsciously allow until the merry-go-round was there and, since she did not know what one looked like she had been stuck. Now, though, there were people with sticks of spun sugar, children running around and somehow music was playing. Without opening her eyes, she knew it had worked as she released and made real the dream she had been trying to have so she opened them and smiled in delight at Arlo.

"Can we go for a ride on it, now?" PB, he might note, was already there. The chalk bunny was sitting on a beautiful horse and had donned a hat, cape and sword and looked every bit the heroic chalk-bunny he believed he was.
"Ere, look, you two!" PB yelled, "I found me a costume!"

[Arlo Creede]

"Ruptured?" Arlo had asked with a curious frown when Faith mentioned that particular method of travel. "It's like you're in one place, then boom, you're in another, right?" He'd paused then, thinking on it while they'd finished up the carousel, then decided that no, it wasn't for him.

"The thing with Cassion is the journey, you know? Not necessarily the destination. I'm not sure he'd approve." Whether he would or wouldn't, Arlo could agree it was a quick way of getting from one place to another and might be useful under rare circumstances. But it didn't necessarily fit the definition of travel in Cassion's name. Not as he saw it, at least.

He laughed at PB's antics, and then shrugged. "Desnind's not bad. It's quiet. The people there are friendly. There was a festival at the end of Cylus, just before I left and it seemed like even Moseke made a showing. Of sorts anyway," he told Faith. So, onions if he wanted, but separate from the meat itself. "White meat...I'm guessing you mean like chicken, turkey, duck."

But right. The carousel ought to be large enough, at least for children to ride on. If not the adults too if they wanted. So Arlo observed her attempts, just as he'd suggested, and was ready to step in and make it happen for her if she failed to do it herself. But ultimately she'd done just fine and he grinned on spying the little chalk bunny already astride his steed going round and round.

And it seemed as if the carousel had been the thing after all. Not the cooking or the streamers. And as soon as it appeared, so did her guests. "Why not, it's plenty big enough," he agreed when she suggested they ride it. He himself climbed aboard a gilded goose just a few mounts ahead of her own. And dozens of children climbed on after them. And after a rotation or two, it appeared that the goose's saddle was empty, and the young man was gone just as mysteriously as he'd appeared.