Recently Quiz approached me about smoking soy sauce, something about making soup. It sounded elaborate as all hell and I’m intrigued, so I’ll gladly oblige her request. She strikes me as someone who really has an appreciation for good food and drink. I dig that (that’s a dwarven idiom, because dig, get it?). Because really, one ought to sit back once in a while (or twice, or thrice) and enjoy the finer pleasures in life.
But I wanted to do a test first to make sure I get the smoking process right. Went with maple syrup and took a little bit more care with the setup, and it’s actually looking good. Now I have to think about what to use it for. I have an idea…
You know, I keep thinking back to that time we confronted the shapeshifter. Nice old lady, that’s what I thought. Turns out those were surface level impressions as we peeled back the layers and went underground. Then 3 of us got lost. We found that damn creature or whatever you want to call it, but the bloody ground opened up and took two more, so it was just me, Al and Quiz left behind.
I hate to say it, but I was ready to turn around and run. I didn’t leave Niflheim to sightsee dark underground places with bodies hanging from the ceiling and blood wells. My heart wasn’t in it, so my feet went first. But then my brain caught up. Just moments before, we sat in this weird pocket of space with this Moulder guy and made breakfast. I remembered. I remembered those times I worked in taverns, behind every kitchen door, same picture. The messiest, ragtag assortment of people you can imagine. Chances are they don’t even like each other. Chances are they walk out the door, they go their separate ways. But they understand, the shift begins, you’re one team, you leave nobody in the weeds. And that fucking breakfast had to remind me of it…
So my stumpy feet steered me back. I remember trying to drag Quiz away, half wanting to escape (no place for puns here), half wanting to figure out some better way to confront a thing that was capable of what we saw hanging on the ceiling, and the look she gave me…, I don’t know if it was brave or careless, but it was fearless in a way I haven’t seen, sharp and unwavering like the edge of a freshly stropped razor. Like there wasn’t a single shred of doubt in the universe that she’d do what she’d have to do…
Well, things took some twists and turns, but needless to say the moment hasn’t left me. I spent plenty of time in the past years enjoying myself, following admittedly selfish pleasures. I had some idea of what it would be like traveling the world and seeing new things. But the past weeks have proven that the world is crazier than I’d want and the new things sometimes aren’t as pleasant as I’d hoped. I had to wonder if one could just look away and ignore what’s bubbling under the surface, I had to wonder what it means to be unselfish, if being a bard is just a frivolous pastime, and fate, with the subtlety of a granite brick to the face, put me back in Schwiflheim and I saw my own people in need…
Only ever so slowly do I begin to understand that force that seems to tug at you and tells you to do the right thing, whether that’s good for you or not. Well fuck, wherever this is going, I hope at least I still get some opportunities to enjoy a good drink and a meal and write a nice song here and there.
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