“Bearing in mind that I haven’t had to make this in a long time, hope this is enjoyable for you,” she set down a bowl of stew. A Dalish recipe her clan had used for most dinners while they traveled. She filled her own bowl before taking a seat across from him at the camp fire. It might not have been anything special for someone outside the clan but she held it dear to her heart. Most had been so adamant about her not learning any of the clan’s traditions that the Keeper taught her away from their eyes. “The first time I made this, it was so poorly done that the broth didn’t sit well and the spices didn’t mix that the first bite would have too much heat while the meat felt perfectly reserved,” she said, before taking a spoonful, “hopefully this isn’t your first impression, Inquisitor?”
He’d been very faraway, the throbbing in his arm particularly bad today. The only thing that had called him back was the smell of stew and Enelya’s soft voice. Mahanon blinked a few times, glazed stare coming back into focus as he looked down into the bowl. It smelled wonderful, all spice and meaty broth. The chill of the night air around them had put a blush on his cheeks and even his over-sized coat didn’t seem to be keeping him warm all that much. He made to pick the bowl up with his left hand, but the pain was too much, and with a light wince, he set his dominant hand back in his lap and went for the food with his right, setting the bowl on his lap. It smelled familiar, but those nights spent back in his clan had all but become so lost to him. He didn’t remember much outside of a flicker here and there, and he tried to remember his family, not the food they ate. Flashing his friend a brief smile, he reached down and spooned himself a bite, blowing on it for a second before shoving the utensil in his mouth, enjoying the taste of it right off of the bat.
“Mmmh. You hope? This is delicious, Lya! And you know--” He mumbled, spooning another mouthful and speaking between bites. “How much I--... Hate it when you call me---... Inquisitor. Hm. Tastes like something I used to make---.... For Lanai and Kestrel.”
Mahanon paled, freezing mid-bite. He hadn’t said their names in ten years and the reality of that hurt him more than any pulse the anchor tossed his way. He felt his throat tighten and suddenly he wasn’t all that hungry anymore. She was probably waiting for him to explain, and floundering for a moment, he forced a nervous smile unto his face and muttered. “My.... Sister and brother.”
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