>>5635979>>5636002>>5636007>>5636017>>5636078“Isss thisss level of ‘impoverishment’ not exotic to you, Princcccesss?”
“Wh-what?” Ekateriene asks, scrutinizing expression replaced with shock.
“It isssn’t for me,” you go on to explain, and truthfully so. “Where I come from… There isss sscant food to eat. What one findsss, one eatsss. If it isss sspoiled, you cook it longer. Sssometimess, lacking means, you do not cook it at all.”
(Well, firebreath helps during fuel rationing, but the point stands even so…)
“So… We are here to make a point, then?” Ekaterine asks, more surprised and curious than affronted.
“There isss much to be done when it comesss to the vaunted equality you crave,” you explain. “You’ve eaten better thingsss, no doubt, but I want you to exxxperiencce THESE thingsss firssthand. How can you sssolve the world’sss problemsss if you have no exxxperiencce with them?”
The Princess of Hawksong nods slightly, though her face belies deep thought, opinions and feelinsg not yet settled. Your discussion, and her consideration, are interrupted by the arrival of the ‘ho pot’ in question, and several smaller, mismatched jars and plates of various… Things. Some are indeed wilted-looking vegetables, fried in some form of thin and crispy starch. You steer clear of those, though Ekaterine seems to select them first-and-fore most as her safest choice. You have eyes for tentacled creatures—ocean-dwellers, exotic as anything to you, with your only past experience with such molluscs being amongst the Wevenore Drow. These morsels, though clearly undesirable off-cuts and runts of a catch, are juicier and meatier than ANYTHING in the underdark. Eka regards your choice with a greenish tinge to her face, made worse when—after submerging and boiling your chosen foodstuffs, you consume yours with gusto. Eka nibbles hers with almost absurd, palatial delicacy, and a requisite ‘mmm’ of polite appreciation.
That’s when a mischievous idea strikes.
“Close your eyessss.”
Eka’s eyes, if anything, widen cosndiering.
“No,” she says, a gasp of disbelief.
“Yesss,” you say. “Come on—we are here for the exxxotic, right? You wished to exxxperiencce other culturesss and ‘lifewaysss’. You want to underssstand your sssubjectsss, right?”
Ekaterine pouts, just a little, then takes a deep breath and settles her expression and adjusts her posture. She meets your eyes boldly and, with obvious and visible reticence, squeezes them shut. You select a lump of ragged and lumpy beef—or is it pork?—and submerge it in the bubbling sauce-pot until it is properly cooked. Ekaterine whines, dreading what is to come, not knowing that, in your infinite and beneficent mercy as Dark prophet, you have taken it easy on her.
“Open up.”
