Rennia grumbled to herself as she got to work. Twice she had made stew, and she was already sick of it—hopefully mash was better than hardtack. She was doing anything, almost anything to distract herself from where she was, what she was going to be doing, and where she was living. She felt distraught—she had been separated from Lyanna like this since, since the day she met her. They were best friends and more, and she was too stupid to see that.
"You're a stupid fucking whore, Rennia, stupid." Unfortunately, no one answered to applaud her self-depreciation. "I'm so fucking stupid."
Her thoughts were drowned out by the smoky flame. The window was foggy, pressured by the smoky firelight from the kitchen. She put the supplies together: the flour, the eggs, and the veggies, salt and pepper and the very few spices she had, and started.
Peeling with a knife was uncomfortable for her, but she did it tediously. All the vegetables went in a boiling pot—a few turnips, a weird red potato-like thing she had plucked out not too far from the tavern (at least Ishmere had said it was safe), some limp carrots she had carried, and some other vegetables she didn't have the mental energy to catalog.
She started pinching salt inside, later than she should have. A few minutes later and it wouldn't have worked out that way. Grating and mashing had worked out well, but she regretted making such a paltry meal.
The flatbread had proven more of a problem. She had used the wrong amount of flour, and slightly more water than she should have, which led to a back and forth of piling and tugging. It's a good thing she had brought yeast and milk with her, though it probably wouldn't last the whole week.
She slapped the parted dough onto the hot skillet and waited for the dough to fry and rise. The puffiness was all wrong, and it was thick in the wrong places. The edge of the piece of bread had been too darkened. She supposed she'd take it on herself to eat it instead of serving it to Ishmere—though that seemed like a fine plan. It wouldn't make up for their sexual encounter, but it would satisfy her. Ishmere was much smaller than her spectral self, and slightly smaller than Rennia herself, which meant Rennia didn't need to compromise in that section. Her master was practically a gremlin and a midget, and she even acted like one. Moodswings, and nasty demands.
Rennia flipped the bread—it skidded to the side of the skillet. She moved it with her hand when the spatula got stuck, briefly pulling her hand back as her fingers got scorched.
"Ah, hot... fuck."
The eggs went better, except the first egg that burst when she put it on the pan, and oil popped and splattered in her face. She didn't flinch—she'd felt magic burns worse than hot oil. The rest went better. The second egg slipped in fine, and the third and fourth went a little better.
She juggled the tasks. In the past this was easier, but with an ever-learning cooking skill and being mentally frustrated, she didn't have time to do it perfectly. Ishmere sounded like she was dying.
She swore to herself. "Fuuck." Cooking for some deranged immortal was not what she wanted to do for her week. Carrying a penis around and having her ass spread open were weird sensations. Anal play, not something she wanted to do soon. Her skin wasn't made of lubricant.
She was tired, but restless all the same.
The [living system] assailed her with a sudden blessing.
Level up: Cooking Lv. 2> Level up: Cooking Lv. 3
Well, she could be happy at least about that. Eventually the cooking skill would plateau and weeks of skill would turn into days, days would turn into weeks, and then years.
She scooped the mash into a bowl and put the better-looking flatbread next to it. She pulled the eggs into the bowl and then wiped off grease residue.
She walked toward the room, standing before the door, frightened and annoyed at Ishmere's helplessness, and then briefly thought about abandoning Ishmere here so the next person would have to deal with her.
She put the food next to the dresser. Ishmere loomed over, looking like a war prisoner—malnourished and frail. Rennia felt bad for her. Being stuck in a state like that for an eternity, well, it would fuck with her too. She didn't know if sex magic would be her means of escape.
Ishmere sat up, then took a bite, chewed slowly, and then stopped... Silence followed, and then quiet. And then nothing. Rennia felt concerned—was her cooking that bad? Shit, she never did anything in the kitchen; that was her mother's thing. She'd make something while dungeon crawling and leave it there. Is this where she takes the food away?
A tear fell down Ishmere's throat, and her lips quivered. She was making an incoherent noise, glitching and repeating the phrase: "Ha-ah-ha-ah."
Rennia ruffled her hair as Ishmere started sobbing, full-on tears flowing down her body. She froze like a caught cat, feeling very out of place.
"I-Is it that bad? Maybe I used too much pepper?"
Ishmere didn't speak. She threw her head against Rennia's lap, rubbing her face a little too close to something else. Rennia shifted awkwardly, holding a spatula, not sure if she should console the gremlin or leave her. With Lyanna this was easy—just say "hey, it's okay," and then maybe rub her ass. This was an immortal being stuck in the state of a formally dying body.
Rennia took a breath and put her arms around her. "I promise you, it's not poison."
"No. No." Ishmere mumbled. "It's the first real thing I've eaten in a long time. I'm so hungry. I don't deserve this... I'm a bad person. This is all my fault. The tavern, the explosion, everything."
Rennia leaned in. At least it wasn't the taste of her food. "Okay, I get it. Things happened. But you can eat and cry after. I'm going to jog for a bit." Rennia pulled away and Ishmere hugged tighter, hugging her and cradling her waist, her face nudging her. The white-haired immortal snickered onto her, rubbing her full of tears.
"Hey, cut it out. Don't hug me."
The words didn't deter Ishmere, just encouraged her.
"You're just so much like her. Just half as snarky. I owe you so much."
Rennia didn't know about all of that. Since she was stuck with her problem, she may as well ride it out. Perhaps it was her who owed Ishmere. Maybe she wouldn't leave her here all alone.
"You're not my mother, but maybe you could pretend to be," Ishmere said, almost childish.
Nope? Okay, no. What the hell. This is getting weird.
She was getting way too comfortable. Rennia stood up and walked slowly to the door. Ishmere stared at her, distraught and disorganized, her white hair standing in the air. Then she left the creature to mope on her own as she moved into the tavern, thinking and staring.
She stared at the broken window and wall where the spider had been—she had moved it away. She'd stashed the crystal in a container nearby. She didn't know what it was worth, but it probably fed her a hefty sum, maybe worth a quest. Maybe enough for a meal and a decent place to stay—gold, not silver.
She stared at the cadavers in the room. They were going to have to move them, maybe lay them to rest. Put up a new door that didn't hang and fix the broken scaffolding. She walked to the wall where a rusted and painted coating covered it. She rubbed her fingers on it—dusty but smelled like iron. Definitely blood.
She stared against the wall and stared at the people. Not all of them died by the fire; some had a rusted dagger spliced into them and left that way. Ishmere had said she was attacked by a flaming witch—she hoped she didn't make her enemies hers too.
At least no more ghosts, just rats and possibly a wild goblin tribe nearby. At least they could be reasoned with.
She thought about it. Why did it have to be her, of all people, stricken with this curse? Why not someone like Lyanna, who would enjoy it? And while she had been bisexual always, she had been intending to get together with Edric, maybe even for life. That meant men were practically out of the window, and now women. But this thing—it made her sex-starved. Sex, and more sex, sometimes it was all she could think about, just sex. She hoped Ishmere had a way of controlling it because she sure as hell was going to start delving again, she didn't care who believes in what the fuck.
Rennia felt her cock twitch between her legs, a reminder that her desires weren't dormant. She wondered if she could even control herself in an adventuring party. Who would even tolerate her? Maybe she would be solo for a while, Maybe not. Maybe she can have fun.