encounter with mutant & cilantro

"Hm, hm.."

While Ambrose walks on about, his gaze eventually stops at the little gathering near the destroyed Silverwall Mines. How quaint..

What is this about?
(Ambrose Roche)

The older teen's head was tilted, and in spite of the malicious words, their expression remained neutral, dispassionate, coldly studying the pair without any particular emotion.

"That would be the question, wouldn't it?"

Would they, or wouldn't they attack?

A flicker of black emerged from one of their fingertips, pointing up in the air. "Ordinarily, I might not - I don't particularly care for your lives, nor your lands. My companions, however..."

None were present, none would likely hear of this, either.

"Well, they might not be so kind - and they might even be happy if I came back with one, or even both of you."

Decisions, decisions.

If the crowd about unnerved them, they made no motions of showing it. Nestis' eyes fixed on Vign, staring down at the kid for a few long moments.

"Would you prefer I leave that decision to you? You do, after all, outnumber me here."

They bring their hands apart, then motion about with one. Sure were a lot of kids around, even if not all of them were actually the target of this.

"Might this not be an opportunity, I wonder? Bring back someone who might pose a threat to your people, in the future? The question is, is it one you wish to take?"
(Nestis)

"And then what? Even if we walk away from this, you're gonna attack others of our kind. Why walk now and leave the problem to someone else? We're gonna look out for our family and show you the Vanirhallans are not to be toyed with."

Drawing his blade, the Karkian takes a step forward- unwisely neglecting his injury and pointing the weapon at Nestis.

"You're our enemy for a reason. You walked up to two of us because you think we're weak kids huh? But we're not! We're WARRIORS! And by Kark will you understand that once all is said and done."

Unscrewing the caps off his vials, a toxic miasma would begin to rise and irritate the atmosphere- enraged olive irises wincing as bones cracked and grew to act as another attack mechanism.

With Vigr's support or not, he was fully prepared to fight for his cause- no matter how foolish it may be to confront such a being alone.
(Vekel)

As he listened to the exchange of words, had the youth not been levitating? Than surely the countless taps of the foot, in the air. Could express how partly irritated the young loire was, listening to all the chatter.

Maybe it was for the best he remaining watching? Considering had it been him on either side? Hands would've long since been raised.

Though, curiosity encouraged him to remain. Whether he intervened in any manner seemed to be lacking. Remaining fixed in his position.

Would nestis enact the warning?

Besting the two and capturing them... It had him provoking thoughts as to how it could be possibly done. If at all...
(Cilantro Loire)

Exciting!

Not only there would be a battle such as this, but there would be even the possibility one of them may be in a very, very big trouble. Though, obviously it remains to be seen just what exactly this would mean.

"How nice!"

"You'll fight after all."

And here he thought it would only stay as talks.
(Ambrose Roche)

"...Your companions. I never met anyone from there but one person, and he just randomly attacked me without knowing where I was from. You don't seem mindless. But-"

Vigr was conflicted, visibly so with his brows furrowing and his ears drooping slightly. "I don't know. You seemed to care about our wellbeing before you knew who we were, or where we were from. That's gotta count for something."

The Lapine held his head for a moment, letting out a sigh.

Was he to fight, or to let one of their enemies go without worrying about it just because they seemed like an okay person? This was still a follower of whoever Nyx was, and an ally or resident of Shadowmire. Maybe he'd just let Vekel take the lead.

That was easier than trying to figure all of this out on his own in his mind.

He'd follow Vekel's lead, listening to his sudden outburst and removing the staff from his back and releasing a series ofvibrations through the area that made it harder for most people to move. "...Right. Sorry, but we've gotta fight. Can't let you potentially hurt one of our friends if they come by here."
(Vigr Dyr)

As soon as battle began, the polite, calm tone in Nestis' voice died off, replaced with a cold silence. Whenever they spoke, their voice came off as hoarse, tinted with barely-contained aggression.

"Come, come, brave warriors!"

They dashed away to the side. Dealing with a pair of fighters was certainly new, yet for now, Nestis was holding their own. They flooded the air with a miasma of green venom, blasting it out ot keep Vagr at bay, while focusing on Vekel for a time, sending out barrages of corrupt energy his way.

After the trio had duked it out for a time, one such blast embedded itself in Vekel's chest, sending him down and out for the count, for now. Though weakened, the alchemist soon trained their staff in Vagr's direction, taking in a deep breath.

"One child, I see. Perhaps you'll prove different?"

They pressed forward, gripped the staff tight, then proceeded to engage.

"Or perhaps you'll fall like your friend."
(Nestis)

A tilt of his head.

One already falls. But Ambrose reserves his words or actions until he would see how exactly the second one would perform. After all, there's no telling what it would be...

Maybe he'll just come out victorious yet.
(Ambrose Roche)

Poo... that was right where his other injury was too.

Talk about a double whammy.

This pain was excruciating- and even after his best attempt, he couldn't subdue the fellow toxic warrior.

Letting out a cry of agony, Vekel's efforts were put to a halt following a powerful Occult blast that embedded itself in his body- intertwining with his circuitry, causing nasty side-effects that would be more apparent in the future.

Clutching his chest, he lied on his back- squirming on the ground in a desperate attempt to compose himself before Vigr got hurt too.

Sadly, his strength was waning.. and it proved too dangerous to try and fight Nestis again.

The harsh reality of his situation was... that he was indeed, in fact, still a child- nowhere near the strength of a real warrior. These embarrassing and soul-crushing defeats began to take a toll on his mind.

He wasn't sure if he felt furious due to the darkness coursing through him... or his disappointing performance for Kark.

"VIGR..! BE CAREFUL!"

Using the last bit of his strength, he screamed out to his childhood friend- realizing he may have placed both of them in a precarious situation.

The best he could do was pray that Vigr performed better than him- also taking advantage of the now weakened enemy.

The pain was unbearable.
(Vekel)

This older teen seemed much more powerful, being able to defeat Vekel after his rigorous training to surpass him.

It was close, but not enough.

The white-haired poison user asked a good question though. Would he fall like his friend, or would he prove different? He had to focus on the task at hand, despite not wanting to even be here to begin with. But he followed Vekel solely to make sure he didn't get hurt in a place like this, and maybe now he'd pay for it.

"Either you'll fall or I will. It doesn't matter, I guess... I can't let my closest friend fight alone though, so whatever happens- It doesn't matter anymore."

He steeled himself, preparing to face him like he faced the mutant. Though this was harder. This was a person, not a monster. Was he truly ready to take on someone that had a conscience like he and his other friends?

That didn't matter. The only thing he could do now was moveforward and face this man, no matter how powerful he was.
(Vigr Dyr)

{RP BATTLE} Nestis is ready for battle!

Nestis has emerged victorious!

Vigr Dyr has sustained an injury in battle...

Vigr Dyr has rolled 1 or under: they may be captured!

Though they'd been weakened from the continued exchange, Nestis was still a more than capable combatant. The Vanirhallan found himself under constant assault of venomous mist, acidic spray and occult energy, all snaking and seeping towards him.

"Your friend- he may have erred."

Their breathing was ragged, raspy. Nestis continued the fight, trying to dodge oncoming blows and attacks, but pressed ever onwards.

Vigr was not as difficult an opponent as Vekel, but he was still a challenge. Even so, as the battle progressed, one thing was becoming clear.

Nestis was winning.

"And- child."

One final shot came out of their staff, embedding itself in the boy's left leg. It was enough to knock him off his feet, and the venom seeping forth finished the job.

"It looks as if you're- you're paying the price."

Nestis' staff was planted down next to Vigr, and they stared down, triumphant. A hand came to their forehead, rubbing it. They closed their eyes for a few, long moments.

When they next spoke, their tone had calmed noticeably. Nestis reached down, aiming to grasp the young Vanirhallan from the collar.

"Come. You'll make a most excellent subject. It's been overdue, I think."

And, should no-one stop them, they'd aim to leave the scene with Vigr in tow.
(Nestis)

"NO!"

Vekel cried out from the ground, mustering up the courage to come to a stand- using his blade as a cane, almost.

Tears welled up in his eyes, realizing perfectly well what he was about to do... but such was the life of a Karkian.

In good faith, he could not let his friend suffer for his consequences.

"I'll go. I'll go wherever with you. Just let him go! This is my doing, Vigr is too kind for your wretched hands."

Gritting his teeth, he waited to hear Nestis' response, his toxins dissipating and vanishing into the atmosphere. How pathetic.
(Vekel)

A grin.

What Ambrose sees is naught but a testament to the fact that Nestis was a powerful foe to behold- which excited him to no end. If his own particular strength is to improve, and if he is to ensure that that he would become successful in his endeavours..

Then he must ensure people like them never become an obstacle.

"Ahahaha!"

"Two against one, and you prevail! You're strong, yes?"

Still, for it to be the end of spectacle is something that he didn't desire to see. Quite frankly, it would only mean that there's something for him to do as well now.

What Nestis may not realize..
Is that they became a test subject too.

For whom? For Ambrose, of course... after all, the other denizens of the Mire were a subject to this too. In fact..

Everyone was.
His dark magics don't discriminate.

The arrow upon his bow is drawn- and soon, the piercing shot of powerful dark magic is fired right at Nestis.

Is he doing this to save Vigr? Not really, no.

He's doing it out of selfish reasons.
(Ambrose Roche)

Running a hand, combing through the entangled locks. Bits of debris fail to the ground amidst the rumbling of pebbles. A slow, steady; convergence of earthly magics bent to the loires will. Conjured fourth a suit armor; enshrouding his entire visage.

"Ey!"

Called out amidst shield and sword clanking together. Rattling a noise as to instigate, Nestis's attention. "Stron-..." Before he could speak of much further, the sudden intrusion of Roche; wasn't taken too kindly.

"Wait in line! I wanna get my hands on'em! Can't have you taking the victory from me." Whether it would be victory he'd actually obtain? Was something unknown, but with how he spoke?

Confidence filled the brim, vocals projecting anything, patience. "We'll flip a coin!" Because if it came to a race? The loire wasn't exactly the fastest, rather.

He'd likely run a snails pace.
(Cilantro Loire)

One final shot managed to embed itself into the smaller child's leg, downing him and filling him with venom.

He always hated that magic, especially with how common it was amongst Magi. That feral trance he got in during serious fights didn't come. Was it because he was against another person? Maybe that was the reasoning behind his hesitation and earlier reluctance to even do battle against this Shadomire denizen.


'It looks as if you're paying the price.'


"S-" he grit his teeth, wincing from the overwhelming pain Nestis' poison put him through. However he grit his teeth and glared right into the man's eyes as he was grabbed by the collar. "So be it."

He didn't know what being a 'subject' would entail, but it was better than letting his childhood friend take the fall. Vekel just found out his brother was alive again, and Vigr had nobody left from the shipwreck. He heard Vekel's plea, then frowned his direction as well. "No."

With the last of his strength, he didn't strike Nestis- No, he forcibly pushed Vekel back with a sudden burst of wind, intent on making it obvious that he needed to leave here and survive.

After this, maybe Vekel wouldn't rush into battle so quickly. If he took that from this experience and survived, Vigr wouldn't care. It wasn't like either of them had a choice anyway.
(Vigr Dyr)

The first thing that interrupted the Occultist was a few words from Vekel. Nestis turned their gaze to the other kid, staring. The expression that came momentarily was one of confusion.

"Truly?"

A pause. Not a very long one, though.

Because they had to DUCK to get out of the way of an arrow coming from Ambrose's bow. A hiss escaped the poison mage, and they gripped their staff in both hands, once more. The tip was pointed in the Roche's direction.

"Do not interfere. Do not interfere!"

Battle it was. For the third time.
(Nestis)

"Ah man..." She is quite late to the scene. The small child has been downed, and it seemed like he was being taken away. Autumn would try and save him, not the Monkey Queen. She honors battle.

And this was what she assumed to be a fair fight.

Even so, she has feelings, and it shows in her frown as the many aim to aid in saving poor little Vigr. In a blink of an eye Autumn would vanish from sight taking refuge in a tree to watch over the scene. Hopefully the child would be able to make it home safe.

"You dumbass bunny! If you get captured I'll kill you!" Quite the odd thing to say, since the kid was already captured.
(Autumn Wicks)

Although the young loire had been dawning shades, the occasional groan, perched lip cast up-right. He bore his heart on his sleeve, not one to beat around the bush, nor be poetic like his father with words.

As much as he tried to be at least.

So while he observed the two battle? An ounce of respect was garnered after noticing roche being capable of doing more than just hold their own, but push Nestis back.

"Guess he ain't... That weak."

Muttered as violet hues rolling beneath the obsidian glasses.

Parts of him were hoping roche failed, if only to get the chance at mocking them.
(Cilantro Loire)

Ecstasy.

This battle, this testing ground for him. How could it be anything other than that? The youth of questionable origins and even more questionable magics was all too excited to find himself facing off against another Occultist.

Because there's always more to take from them.

"Ahaaaa!"

"You're just like me!"

It's fun. And games... in particular, a game of cat and mouse, where each of them gives the chase to another- finding means to poison and fling dark magics at one another.

"It's so amazing of you to stick around and let me have this much fun!"

"You're the best!"

But something is evidently... off about the young Roche; poison seeps into his system, and dark magics evidently rupture his flesh- yet he heals at a surprising speed, each of his strikes enhanced by supernatural force that was incredibly potent.

Maybe far too potent.. for someone of this age.

What comes is subjugation; the moment of weakness found in the movement of Nestis, and Roche seizes it readily- it's not too long before they find themselves taken into a hold, perhaps even pinned, and..

"Let me have a taste."

Shadows lengthen. They drain and take from Nestis- reaping a fair bit from them, feeding into something else, something otherworldly. At that very moment, their vision darkens - they see things that simply aren't there, and people of unknown origin are all around them.

Or maybe they're actually there..?

"..Tasty."

Yet, at that very same moment, he rises; he takes a grasp over Nestis, and throws them elsewhere - this unnatural strength of Roche still all too evident.

"Shoo now!"

"I had my fun."
(Ambrose Roche)

It didn't take long for realization to dawn on Nestis - one, that in a very uncharacteristic manner, managed to elicit a hideous laugh.

They were fighting their mirror image.

"Eeheheheee- this is-" A duck. They swung to a side. "Far too confusing!"

Their expression hardened, eyes locking in on the Roche. This battle was very much not a fun one, at least for the other half of it. Nestis found themselves on the losing side of it, after all.

Perhaps the wounds played a part. They certainly were slower than usual.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, they were outmatched.

"Hnn." Their breathing harshened, their eye twitched. Attack upon attack was launched at Ambrose, yet it came for naught in the end.

Because before long, they were pinned.

They didn't quite manage to track where he'd come from, but Nestis found themelves on their stomach, a knee on their back, and something foul draining at their mana, their strength. They opened their mouth, but bit down on the scream, and wound up gasping out for air, loud, hard.

"H- hhhhh-"

Shadows came alive, dancing at the edge of their vision. When the knee came off, they didn't even think of the captives they'd lost, of the battle that had just ended.

All they wanted was to get out of this nightmarish forest.

And so, they clambered to their feet, eyes widened in confusion. Nestis tossed a glance this way and that, but then just outright bolted in whichever direction they were facing, not even caring to speak or see where they were going.

And that was the end of their encounter.
(Nestis)

Savoring.

This incredible taste, this putrid mana of another Occultist that he's managed to take, and now, turn into something entirely else. As the shadows around him lengthened into something that could almost resemble an actual figure..

Suddenly, it vanishes.

As does the unnatural power that surged through Ambrose. He blinks, once, twice- and soon his smile begins to slowly fade. That was... the end of it?

The end of his fun?

"Hmph."

He looks back. Oh, right... there were still people around. He's almost forgotten..

But he stays silent for a bit, only eventually to remark.

"--What are you looking at?"
(Ambrose Roche)

Although he hadn't any desire give roche much time to recovery. Evident in every step taken towards them. "Look'in at you! For taking, my fight!" Casting a glance over to the Vanir pair, a hmph followed before returning back to his intended target.

"Don't worry much, I'ma just beat ya over the head a bit."

Confidence, oozing past, but not over. The armor of earth that quickly came to his demand.
(Cilantro Loire)

Looks like he got lucky this time... maybe.

Regardless, eating Vigr's wind blast, the Karkian dashed to his buddy's side- picking him up all the while tolerating this awful pain from his wound.

Ignoring pretty much everyone, he sprinted off with the Lapin boy in his arms- making a quick run for Little Vanir. Looking over his shoulder, he nodded toward Ambrose.

"I won't forget this."

An act of honour for the Vanirhallans, even inadvertently, was rarely swept under the rug.

All of this under the pretense that he wasn't stopped by anyone.
(Vekel)

Frekr looks on at the scene with a slight frown on his face.

Vekel and Vigr, seemingly having found another fight and come out with the sticky end of the stick. Glancing between Ambrose and Cilantro, Frekr nods and turns to face Vekel and Vigr.

"Right well, perhaps we should be off then?" He says without asking any more, moving to usher his friends past the others arrayed here. "Don't mind us."
(Frekr Gullmunr)

Ambrose was hardly a hero. If at all...

And when Vanirhallans speak of not forgetting this? He only idly hums in thought. Did he earn this indirectly by just taking out the captor instead?

"Hm.."

"Sure. Why not!"

After all, he actually might have a use for something. Why discard something useful when it could be of benefit? Even then, still, his gaze points towards Cilantro.

A smile quickly appears on his face.

"Beat me over the head?"

"Oho! So the fun isn't ending, yes?" Evidently not. Besides, the more his dark magics are fed..

The merrier.

"Come, come!"
(Ambrose Roche)

{RP BATTLE} You have WON the battle!

{RP BATTLE} {INJURY} Cilantro Loire has rolled 4 for injury!

Cilantro Loire has sustained an injury in battle...

This is different.

The difference is that he can actually feel how it's like to experience the pain of the sword and the cuts that would be inflicted upon him. Perhaps, if it wasn't for the supernatural healing that constantly ensured that he would remain capable of fighting...

Then he might've fallen here.

"Yes! Like this!"

"Just a bit more and you'll win!"

Does he... encourage to hurt Roche? It's a strange thing - for someone to eagerly anticipate the pain that would be coming unto them. But by far, he's by no means a simple child at all; the very nature he harbors is only a testament to that.

Still, despite the best attempts of Cilantro to hack and cleave through Ambrose, it is brought to a halt by powerful toxins and swirling mass of dark magics; suffocating in their constant attacks, and difficult to resist. It is here thatwhen a mistake is made...

He finds himself overwhelmed.

"No, no, no.."

"That was wrong! It's my turn now."

Hunger.
Endless hunger.

A concept that Loire would be exposed to- for the maw of dark magics would feast upon him, sampling his essence, his emotions, his thoughts and feelings. One could mistakenly think of it akin to local witchcraft, but no...

This magic? It's not Essharan.

His mind is plunged in a world of dark and deep. Above him is Ambrose, still pinning him, feasting upon his consciousness - it being fed back to the collection of everyone he's sampled so far.

He's one of many now, and yet..

"You're different."

"Who are you?"
(Ambrose Roche)

For a kid who boasted words so pridefully? His style of combat had been one of attrition. Providing the field with both his terramancy & swordsmanship. Albeit, he dawned a buckler, but strangely enough?

Hardly used it, expressed in his abuse over the innate endurance he'd been blessed with. "Shut up, ya sicko!" Growled as he stomped his foot against the ground. Sending waves of jolted spikes from beneath the ground to erupt fourth.

Following the action with a combination assaults'. Pulling roche forward from the rumbling earth, whilst charging with the shield. Bashing them against a stone wall erected from behind them.

Yet, for how durable he was. The toxins did well in seep through the cracks and crevices born. Pieces falling down amidst his huffing & puffing. Even as he drew from the earth as a secondary recourse.

His inexperience left him with far too many vulnerabilities. Capitalized by Ambrose. An eventual mistake? It was one he could hardly notice himself, as he throttled himself forward at a snails pace.

The blade whipped out like a snake whenever the mage drew close. Though before he felt himself able to push the magi back, it hit him. And like rain, did his armor crumble alongside his legs giving in. Only his sword being stabbed into the ground stopped him from entirely falling over.

Tsk!

Closing his eyes, the infectious nature was overwhelming, but somehow? Nothing unfamiliar... As if, their own curse had become the fuel for something lying deep within the loire.

"I-I'm, Cilantro! D-Damn... Ya friggen hurt." Straining his muscles, the shades fell to the side; revealing violet hues. Silted down the center. Staring with a pained expression that somehow mustered up annoyance; at himself for losing.
(Cilantro Loire)

Delight.

Having not only this many give themselves unto him so soon, but also ensuring that he would have more than enough tools to carry on with what he intended. And even then, there's always a want for more, always a want to be fed once more.

It's never enough.

"Ahaha!"

"You taste nice."

Being described as a sicko wouldn't quite cut it. But even then, Ambrose only smiles- the usually innocent face is only a false mask for when he needs to blend in. As for the rest?

There's no need to hide his excitement.

"Cilantro, Cilantro.."

"A nice name! Unique. I like it."

An oddity. Even then, he doesn't get off him yet - instead, he only leans forward; his hands pressed over Cilantro's shoulders, and a mischievous grin plastered over his face.


"Hey, Cilantro."



"Wanna fuck shit up together?"

An agent of chaos, this one..

No doubt about that.
(Ambrose Roche)

Rolling shoulders and neck, the occasional gruff as he recomposed himself. His gaze sharpened, lightly moving to remove roche's hand from his shoulder. Considering the defeat? Another ounce of respect had been poured for the man.

"I-If you find dirt to taste nice? Th-than sure..." Massaging his scalp before using his free hand to reach for the blade embedded into the ground. Yanked out before finally.

Nodding his head slowly. Pulling both arms beneath his chest, had it not been for the strange sensations going on in his head? He'd have closed his eyes to have added the dramatic, sage effect.

Alas, all he could do? Was smile back. "Well dang, I mean... You're climbing up the right mountain if that's what you're asking to have me join in on!" Rustling in place, a deep breathe was all he needed to feel a bit more refreshed.

"I might not look it? But I can take it hit... Guess it's the dragons blood in me, but either way..." He paused, only after realizing? That ambrose complimented the loires name.

That was a first. "Heh... Right."
(Cilantro Loire)

Excellent.

Someone to watch his back, and in return, someone whose back he would have to watch - it's something beneficial, no doubt, given the fact that no man in the world could just shift the tide all alone. Truth be told..

It's exactly what he was looking for.

"Great!"

It's not too long that Ambrose rested a single hand on a source of dark magic on Cilantro's body, sapping away partially the curse that he's inflicted. Perhaps to Loire's surprise...

Ambrose could heal too.

"Everyone is so awfully boring out there."

"Sitting in their cities and nodding along with everyone else. Boring!" So much so that Ambrose was willing to cause a little..

Anarchy.

"I wanna change the status quo. A friend of mine wants a big show. And if you want to mess things up too?"

"You'd fit right in." He'll have to introduce them to eachother later, but for now..

Cilantro is no longer held in any manner- instead, he assists him up with his hand, unless he'd reject any help altogether.

"Now come, come."

"You need to dust yourself off a little."
(Ambrose Roche)

Considering it was the same hand that enacted the pains he dealt it. Wasn't it safe to assume, the young loires guard would be imposed initially? Imagining their Great! somehow coming along with an attempt at another meal.

But very much to his surprise... Did he find the curse inflicted? Beginning to immediately wane in the volume, bringing about a bit more scarcity to the images he witnessed. Now? Feeling like a, every so often type of deal. Until it finally recovered.

Nevertheless.

"Well, it sorta makes sense... At least? In the sense that this war's still going on!" Throwing an arm up, weakly; it acted like a noodle. Squirming over his head as he expressed his annoyance to it all.

"Then again? I probably ain't making it any better. Since I should've kicked the ass of those two kids!" Having found out they were vanirs? Cilantro would be a fool to not recognize them as enemies.

But they would be enemies? He defeated. Not the mire.

"Hm... I think I know one of the people you're talking about! Crazy cook?" Rolling his eyes for a moment. "Reminds me... How bout you follow me to my room real quick? I need to make some jerky... I can't lose to her..."
(Cilantro Loire)

Wars.

They're fought for many reasons, but the most common being that of the land, or the people, or ideological differences. What he wants to give them, however, is something different. Truth be told, where he comes from people are just like in Esshar - they fight for something.

But never themselves.

"I'm sick and tired of hearing about people fighting some petty wars."

"I want them to fight for themselves, for once, and not some ideology or some land. Maybe once I'll be able to bring what I wanted?"

"They'll have no choice but to fight for themselves."

A grand plan, one could say. It would take years to enact, however- perhaps even a decade, or even longer. There's no telling how progress of that would go.

"And it's fine! You'll get them next time." As for the crazy cook..

"Hm... yeah, she's one of them, but that's not really who I had in mind. There's a wolf! You'll like him, I'm sure."

But still, he gives a quick nod. Cooking was most definitely needed.

"Mhm!"

"Let's go."

For now, they depart.
(Ambrose Roche)