So there I was, on the train ride home from class, and I thought.. Man.
I’m gonna write something really indulgent.
Hope you guys like it as much as I do!
[Doc]
—
Turning from the stove to the counter, with a knife and cutting board in hand, Lopard comes face to face with a jade blooded nuisance who smiles back at him from his seated position upon it.
The orange blood rolls his eyes.
“Get your ass off of my counter if you want to keep it.” He warns, waving the knife in the air for emphasis.
“Two problems with that, chief,” the nuisance starts, despite jumping off the counter with an ‘oof’ when his feet hit the ground. “S’not your counter and that’s a stupid threat.”
Once again Lopard rolls his eyes, but happy that there would no longer be an ass where he plans to chop vegetables, he carries on his prepwork.
“I’m sure Areios doesn’t want your ass on his counter either. Make yourself useful and—”
Before the command even leaves his mouth, Demuye is already behind him setting some pots to boil and pulling seasonings from cabinets.
“Yeah, yeah, on it boss man.” He says with a smile he doesn’t bother fighting.
Just as the pair are getting into the groove of cooking together, the owner of the hive paces his way into the kitchen with large, frantic steps that would shake the foundation of a less secure building, worrying the front of his shirt between two very anxious hands. Lopard barely gets to open his mouth before his much smaller “babysitter” comes toddling in behind him, on legs much too short to keep up with the exaggerated gait of the behemoth.
Thuein pauses to catch his breath, resting both hands on his thighs as he heaves.
“Running a marathon?” Demuye questions with ill-contained humor, only to receive a sharp look from the therapist in response.
Areios paces his way to the far end of the kitchen and stares at the undecorated stone for several seconds as silence overtakes the kitchen. His three guests exchange worried glances with each other.
Slowly, unable to be serious for too long, Demuye raises a hand and presses his index finger to the tip of his nose.
Thuein copies the motion.
For the third time in such a short stretch, Lopard finds himself rolling his eyes.
“Alright big guy,” He says as he wipes his hands clean on a dish towel. “What’s eating at you so bad that our best and brightest can’t help you keep it together?”
Truthfully, his annoyance with Demuye and Thuein doesn’t last long. It is barely a fizzle before it dies out on its own, really. As the oldest of this portion of their inner circle, he’d been used to wrangling everyone in for some time now. A part of him thrives on it, if he had to be honest with himself.
Areios lets his shoulders slump forward, too prideful maybe to face his friends as he speaks. “Do you think he’s actually going to come?” He finally asks, after his own silence becomes too much for even him to stand.
Once again the three exchange looks that the behemoth can’t see. Demuye seems annoyed at the notion, indicated by him sucking his teeth, Thuein only frowns, and Lopard lets out a resigned sigh.
“I don’t think he’d lie about something like that.”
Areios inhales sharply and exhales in a way that suggests he wishes, right now at least, that he was smaller than he is.
“What if he gets here and realizes he hates me as much as--”
“Ah,” Lopard interjects, holding up a hand that the other party cannot see but heeds regardless. “I’m not entertaining that sort of talk. He’s going to come and we’re going to have a great time. Just like we always do.”
The orange blood crosses the kitchen and pats Areios on the back.
“I’d beat his ass otherwise.” He offers and gets a laugh out of the purple blood.
“Imagine the emotional toll that’d take on you.”
“Smashing those guys is like second nature to me. Now get out before I put the pair of you to work.”
Demuye emphasizes Lopard’s point by slamming a pot onto the counter and Areios laughs again, putting up both hands, as he and Thuein leave the way they came.
Thuein mouths a ‘thank you’ to Lopard on the way out.
“We really don’t pay you enough.” Bemoans a more than humored Demuye, shaking his head, while Lopard returns to his post.
“Yeah, I’ll have to garnish it from somewhere.”
“If you touch my check, and I mean this so seriously, I’ll skin you.”
—
Later the hive is alive with chatter, the way it used to be when Areios housed most or all of the current guests in their respective times of need. The intoxicating bouquet of Lopard’s cooking carries from the kitchen to the large front room that most of the trolls occupied.
His chest swells with pride each time someone so much as compliments the smell of the goods. It is nice knowing that his hard work is appreciated, after all. Soon the smell will be overshadowed by someone else's, probably Achina’s, baking skills. But for now, the pride was all his.
Lopard plops, exhausted, on a couch between the host and a violet blooded sailor who the pair have not seen in countless sweeps, waving a three fingers hand around as he exposits what’d happened to him in those sweeps.
“It hasn’t been all that crazy,” Velrum concludes, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant manner that suggests he was merely describing a shopping trip and not a literal odyssey. “I was on the sea. That’s where I came from, so it wasn’t awful.” He lets his good fin flair for emphasis.
Lanaen, seated in a chair across from them, scoffs.
“Were your more stuck-up personality traits concussed out of you, then?”
“Quite possibly. And yours?”
“Oh, no. He’s still very much a dick.” Lopard chimes in before Lanaen can defend himself, and the four of them enjoy a good laugh at the fuchsia’s expense.
It has always been too long since the last time they gathered everyone together like this and the hive itself is practically a flutter with it’s own life.
Lopard chances a glance to a corner of the living room occupied by Zurven, of all people, signing away in a conversation with Isnons who appears to have turned off his hearing aid for the evening.
Each of the pair jumped at the chance when they heard that the other would definitely be in attendance, masterful trickery executed by Thuein and Achina, who were convinced neither would come otherwise.
From what he can make out from his bout of eavesdropping Isnons just wrote his first book and Zurven’s gotta get his hands on it.
He smiles to himself, satisfied that he would not have to field any angry partners for a botched night out. He hardly notices when Velrum and Lanaen leave the room, absorbed in yet another conversation.
This one possibly about the former’s missing fingers.
“See, we’re having fun.” Lopard nudges a shoulder up against Areios as he speaks. “Regardless.”
“Yeah. It’s always nice having everyone back together. Makes the hive feel less lonely.”
“I think that’s called empty nest syndrome.”
“Look at me, your sad mama bird.”
Lopard only laughs and nudges him again.
Very suddenly, Holoth appears in their space, beaming despite the way sleepiness decorates her features.
“Does that mean I can call you mommy?” She inquires, brightly.
“Please don’t.”
“C’mon guys, I brought something you need to see.” She quickly pivots, seizing Areios by the arm and giving him a tug that actually pulls him to his feet.
Nonplussed, he follows her lead with Lopard bringing up the rear.
Holoth leads the two of them outside, away from the excitement of the hive and closer to the cliff that overlooks the sea. It does not take long for Lopard to recognize the form of a troll pacing back and forth at the end of it, but he is certain that Areios cannot make it out, what with his deteriorating eyesight and all.
He turns his surprise on Holoth who only winks back at him. Then she trudges forward with the giant in tow until he and the pacing figure stop short, staring at each other.
Briefly, Lopard thinks that it was very wise of her to not bring him inside for this reunion. He would never tell her the thought, lest everyone have to reckon with her ego for the foreseeable future.
She gives Areios a shove and he continues the rest of the way on his own, where he and the newcomer continue to stare at each other in stunned silence.
What must be running through their heads right now?
“Areios, I’m so sorry I--”
The full apology dies in the doctor’s throat when Areios, unable to contain himself, wraps him up in his arms and crushes him into his chest.
Remembered Persep smells like vanilla, and I’ve got that associated with like vanilla candles and body wash and that one ‘live laugh love’ flavor of white mom, and now im stuck with the image of him with a live laugh love sign or perhaps a wall full of crosses. This vision won’t leave my brain so im sharing it lol
“There is nothing laugh or love about that thing, hope you get well soon.”
