>>5364778The food is delicious—if much, MUCH spicier and richer than anything you have ever had before—in spite of being a little cold for the chef’s liking.
“You know, it’s supposed to be made with, um, mountain goat. They said they didn’t have any, and it seemed a bother to try to get someone to go hunt one just for this.”
Your attention is focused upon the meal. Who eve knew such complex flavours were possible?! You have, after all, only ever eaten unseasoned, perhaps lightly slated or pickled meat, usually raw or dried. It’s so intense, and your appetite so great from your journey and (ahem) recent exertion, that you barely even register the Herbalist’s words.
“What’s that in the bundle?” she asks, pointing to the silk cocoon left near the door, with your pack.
“Fish,” you mumble through your mastication.
“Oh!” she claps her hands together, bouncing bountifully with her sudden excitement. “I can make fiskeboller! Can you, ah, eat bread?”
You gulp down your meal and survey your slave-lover as, still glistening from your frenzied coitus, she launches into explanation of a strange fish-egg-dairy mixture made into a series of small balls, served with spice and some sort of white sauce. It is all Dwarven to you, especially when (several times) she struggles to find an intelligible word for an ingredient in Northern Common-tongue and LITERALLY lapses into her first language.
You finish your meal, and feel fatigue settling in from your long couple of days. Tomorrow, you know, it will be time to depart—you have been gone too long already. But for tonight…
>You will rest easy, strangely satisfied and at peace, holding your Herbalist close [+affection, verges on <LOVE>]>You will have her get dressed and leave you—you wish to meditate, and pray [specify if you attempt to reach out to a specific deity]>You must sleep sparingly, and attend to one last matter before you leave [what? Please specify] 