Memories Of The Flask

by WindigogoGadget

Troubled Wildered And Forlorn, Dark Benighted Travel Worn

Today was a quiet day. The lab had nothing that needed my help so I just...

Sat there.

It's a nice morning for once. Pleasant means that everything is fine, but it isn't so nice it'll have to be. I can see a pleasant wind flowing by. Wonder if the sisters will visit.
It's a little too bright though, but it's always been like that. Even on a moonless night, this place is still brighter than it was back home. There's not nearly as many clouds or rain. I have nothing against oak trees, but there was just something about the way pine trees would tower over everything, the way they would bend against the harshest winds but never snap. Always a pillar of strength.

Does this world not have a rain season? I've never seen it rain before. Or maybe this place just doesn't have rain every other day. Either way too bright, I want more clouds.

Hm? What's that on the table? Weird shiny thing. It looks cool. It's like. Hm.
It's as if you took a piece of impure glass and etched a ton of runes into it with glow in the dark blue paint. Almost like radium paint, I think that glows blue, not green. Then layer those runes on top of each other so you can faintly see them inside the fragment.

Holding it in my vines I felt a wave of nostalgia and peace. It all felt right. I felt like everything was going to be just fine. I could ignore the whispers in my head and close my senses and feel like I'm home, really home. That everything would be normal, that I didn't...

Its not important.

Its not wrong to take a moment alone is it? To enjoy the silence?

_{make us whole.}

---

Starswirl felt his beard itch. His hooves trembled and his magic wavered for a moment. He knew Alyosha would never tamper with an experiment, so why did he quake? For what reason did fear spark in his heart?
Weakness. He was feeling weak. Usually he'd chase it away with the aid of a potion, but he felt he'd be delaying an inevitability if he didn't attack the root cause, and it was not his age.

No, something strange had struck him, he doubted it was guilt. He hadn't done anything wrong recently.

It was likely nothing, Alyosha would be fine, he was only a floor below him. He could continue tending to his research while he was uninhibited by teaching.

---

Alyosha had made his way to the second floor with relative ease. The first floor was so heavily fortified with magical wards and enhancements that he just never bothered.
How did he know? He couldn't go in there. It felt like a buffeting wind forcing him back.

Logic dictated that some magical ward kept him away. And he didn't care all that much, the kitchen was on the second floor. The main one at least.

It was a far cry from the modern amenities he was used to working with, no electric stove, no sink, though there was a large copper tank filled with something. Water?
He couldn't eat, he figured this out already, but he could try to cook. It was something he picked up after an incident at home.

He needed something familiar, and he was fortunate that cooking over an open flame was something he looked forward to anyways. Alyosha shuffled around various shelves, cabinets and drawers, finding an iron skillet in a crate of all places. It was rusted in some spots but nothing he couldn't scrape away.

Literally, he used himself as steel wool. It was a terrifying experience.

There was flour, honey, butter, a small amount of eggs. Various amounts of assorted vegetables. Onions and potatoes mostly. A sack of oats, some seeds that looked like wheat but not quite. He thought it to be rye, but was unsure. He let his mind go blank, just searching the kitchen in a calculated blindness. More seeds, more vegetables, a stash of salt, a bottle with an unreadable logo, and spices.

The previously rusted pan lacked oil, it had been stripped clean of its seasoning and needed to be tended to.

A vine flew searching for anything resembling olive oil, something that didn't burn very easily like canola oil would do better. Or so he read once upon a time. It spilled on the black cast iron, streaking all along as it was smeared until the entire tool was coated in a shine.

"Funny story I forgot how much of a big fat mess this was.
I've been busy trying magic, it's been tons of fun so far.

Vines traced the material up and down until it was satisfied with the work, a flint was then procured from a tinder box, casting sparks that turned to flame. The tinder box was crumbling and the steel was trying to rust in peace, it was as if it was purchased as a mere after thought. Still it did its job. The void child searched calmly for a knife, or a mortar, and instead found a wood plank and a stone to use as a cutting board and grindstone respectively. Grain flew and danced as until all of them were cracked open under the pressure of stone.

Nothing but pain, something on fire. All by myself-

The pan let off a faint vapor and a splash of water was added alongside the cracked grains. The water rolled and fizzed and steamed, evaporating as he added cool milk located from somewhere.

-finally."

Alyosha found himself moving in rythym with a song only he could hear, and he didn't mind. Salt was added on an instinct, and he had debated on adding some of the spice cloves he had found. In the medieval ages spices like these were probably incredibly valuable, which was exactly why he was going to put only one ground up clove in. The blade he had found was rusted in some spots initially but it was fixed easily enough, with some improvised repair tools.

"Things change, when they don't replace your goals.

Dried fruit was scrounged up, a handful of the things fell upon the board and were split in halves

It feels so strange

He hadn't expected to find oats, especially not ones that were soft like the instant ones he was familiar with, so they were added in as an afterthought after the mystery grain before the eventual addition of the dried fruit.

Not to love you anymore!"

Stir, stir, stir again. The oats softened and disappeared into the mixture, more accurately the buckwheat disappeared into the oats.

"But you wouldn't know. Would you?"

The mix thickened even as water was added to counteract it, the pan was stirred faster to make up for time away, trying to keep things from sticking and burning or forming clumps in his dish. Something that looked like a whisk made of sticks was used frequently, whipping in air into the mix. If he still had a body he'd be having the worst time of his life with exhausted arms, but he felt nothing.

I'm fine, just in case you think I'm not.

He let the pan sit still as a log was swiftly unfurled as it was ripped to pieces and added to the low flames, rising again in a weak roar. Dried fruit, cut swiftly and thoroughly was flicked angrily into the mix.

I AM.

Watching the flames burn, he added a bit of charcoal that had escaped the fireplace back to the fires. The dancing flames now contented, he returned to stirring.

The time I'm better with the friends I lack.

Vines weaved around the kitchen, searching for something missing. Fruits and oats and cracked seeds, but where was it?

But you wouldnt know, would you?

Feeling for spices a vine withdrew a hard lump, his internal beat not faded as he recognized it as nutmeg. Right after he split it in two.

And I mean for this to sting, I forgive you nothing

The whole nutmeg was shattered against the metal pan, it's fragments collected on the board and scraped violently against a knife before the dry powder was chopped again for good measure.

You monsters.

His vines trembled, a detached petal turning to a harmless, dissolving shadow.

And I know the reasons why

The powdered nutmeg was set aside in a wooden bowl. He'd yet to find a spoon, but it didn't matter much by this point did it?

You are never coming by

Sugar was flicked into the thick slurry and stirred till the light glittering of the granules faded away like hope in the darkness.

For me-...!

Reflexively he dared to taste it, but he had no mouth or reason to eat. The logs popped like faint drums as the fire continued to burn dispassionately.

-...Me-e-e!

The dried fruits had swelled and rose to the top of the mix, the oats had broken down long ago, much faster than the broken grain. What was it in here? Was it buckwheat? Or rye?

Too bad! You let it get so out of hand!

It mattered not what was in the dish now, it was too late to ever take it back. What was created was made from the ashes of other things combined. The process of cooking sounded so unappetizing when described like that.

How much we had

The slop was hot and tinted lightly purple as more dried fruit was left to fall in, the flames that once roared now sang quietly.

And still I don't understand.

As the flames turned to smoldering coals, a vine coated itself in the ash and gripped the burning hot iron, tipping over a bowl it let all the sweet smelling slop be caught. Vines weaved in search of the set aside spices, pulling the board slowly to him.

But you wouldnt know. Would you?

His vines trembled again, such an unsteady hand! Haha! It's just oatmeal. It wont hurt you. The sprinkled nutmeg made it seem so much more appealing, like a harmless little lie in a story that goes unnoticed.

You'll never know, will you?"

Just like me.