(Shit, I forgot about this ask prompt, let's do this.)
SuperiorVerse Characters (superhero nonsense):
Nathan Albright: Probably bad junk food, since his father is a doctor and didn't let him indulge much when he was younger.
Chiyo Noskov: Her grandfather's homemade pelmeni.
Talase (fantasy nonsense):
Eltaryn: No real preference, he travels a lot so sometimes he has to go with very little food so he's learned to not be picky when he has it. Though sweet things usually go over well with him, since they're a rare luxury for him.
It's been a while since I wrote anything of consequence so I tried to write a quick scene I have planned in one of the two writing projects I have in the planning stages.
(Note, this is extremely rough, the context of the scene is not even final so who knows how much of this will stick.)
Eltaryn resisted the momentary, and ill-advised, notion to slam his fist into the closest wall as he once again found himself in the Red Hall. He called it the red hallway because a shattered window had been hastily covered up by a scrap of garish red cloth, likely after the storm the night before. This detail made it vastly different from the Green Hall, with its solitary leaf, and the Wet Hall, with its leaky ceiling. It was however, very similar to the Hall of No Return, so named by Eltaryn in a fit of boredom and whimsy, which he had been attempting - and failing - to reach again by retracing his steps through the labyrinth that was the Legion’s barracks.
Suppressing his irritation Eltaryn dug out the map he had bought from Ratbreath back in the city and held the document to catch the light from the nearest brightplate. “I’m beginning to suspect,” he murmured to himself as he scanned the mess of lines that comprised the map, “that I’ve been set up…”
“You’ve definitely been set up.”
Eltaryn tore his eyes away from the map as he let loose a string of Taldish curses that would make Ria proud, focusing on the person standing before him who had approached soundlessly. “Well I guess that explains why I couldn’t find the ballroom,” he said, in an attempt to feign nonchalance.
The woman standing before him was a terror to behold, towering over Eltaryn by more than two heads and with arms that could and would snap any number of bones if given the opportunity. Essentially she was the very model of a Virendan legionary, exactly the sort that he had been desperately trying to avoid. She cracked a small smile at Eltaryn’s feeble attempts at nonchalance and said, “No ballrooms here, I’m afraid - budget cuts, I’m sure you understand.” She paused a moment, taking the time to sweep her gaze over Eltaryn, “Now, how much trouble are you going to cause me?” she asked, grasping the hilt at her hip to punctuate.
Eltaryn’s eyes darted to the legionary’s naked blade and a panic rose within him. The blade was thrice-bound. He searched for a response for an apparent eternity before they would finally reach his lips, “Say… you wouldn’t happen to be Ke-”
“Kerinae Tallem? I would indeed happen to be her.” A smile crept onto Kerinae’s face once again, though her hand remained with her blade, “Now, since I answered your question, I believe you owe me an answer in return.” Her smile faded as she asked, “How much trouble are you going to cause me?”
If not for the fact that Eltaryn was on some level convinced that he was having an extremely vivid nightmare he would have fainted on the spot.
