20 (I) Charm

…After the brutal battle at Passage that many onlookers described as “like two toadhounds ripping into each other” and “a piece of the sky falling,” official sources have stated that the victorious surfacer is not, in fact, a hostile agent of New Albion, but rather a wandering Pathbearer on a mission of peace and security going by the title “Shiv.”

Afterward, though wounded, the surfacer continued on with his Umbral and Weaveress escort to meet the Exalted Mother. However, things weren’t to end for our intrepid guest. Here, another of his erstwhile companions—so we have deduced from unnamed sources—went to the Cradle of Flesh after midnight to resolve a most unanticipated and intense hostage crisis. Their companion, noted to be disturbed of mind and suffering from immense shock (described as a “dung-eater” in the most stable of times), had to be talked down from holding several of the Cradle’s staff hostage by our newfound surfacer ally.

It is not known if this “Shiv” is drastically different from other surfacers, or if he stands as the general norm among his people, but we at Vibrations are watching his movements closely.

Whatever the case, I’m sure more interesting times will be ahead of us, and our newest guests as well…

-Vibrations, Weave Tabloid

20 (I)

Charm

The Deathless had gotten up early that morning, despite his midnight interruption, and began his preparations. To his surprise, he only slept for three hours, and yet it somehow felt like the best rest of his life. Valor told him it was a natural part of increasing his Physicality, and the higher that skill climbed, the less rest Shiv would need in general.

On the other hand, Adam, despite how amped up he was the day before, had fallen asleep after repositioning the couch and tucking himself in a corner. He clearly believed Shiv’s speech about there being spiders in the walls a bit too much.

After making sure the other surfacer was still breathing, Shiv went through his pantry and fridge in detail, marveling at all the ingredients that were stocked. Usually, he stayed late at the Swan-Eating Toad just to do a bit more experimentation. Georges usually didn’t have a problem with this, so long as Shiv cleaned and then locked up. Here, though—here was a place that was at least temporarily Shiv’s own, and he could do whatever he wanted with this food.

Shiv laughed, his chuckle growing dark and devious. “Oh, there’s no one that can stop me now. There’s nothing you can do to stop me from making you pristine.”

“Shiv, please don’t do that,” Valor implored. “It’s very strange when someone makes an evil speech to their food.”

“No,” Shiv replied, adamant. “They must know I’m the chef.”

“By way of an evil speech.”

“Fear is a flavor.”

“They’re inanimate, Shiv.” Shiv stared at the dagger on the table next to him. “Were you just staring at me right now? Because I’m technically an inanimate object?”

“Yes.”

Valor sighed. “Monologue away.”

After a bit of searching, Shiv found what he thought to be yogurt in the fridge, some fruit, strips of meat that looked ready to be fried, and, interestingly enough, some form of vegetable that smelled remarkably fresh and delightfully cold. He experimented for a while, testing nibbles and mixing things together.

“Breakfast doesn’t need to be grand,” Shiv muttered, “but it does need to put a punch in someone’s step and kick-start the beating of their heart. How you eat in the morning is how you face the rest of the day.” And Shiv, despite everything, intended to face the day with more fire in him than the day before.

After a good two hours of testing and cooking, another knock came at the door, and Shiv found himself grinning. A loud groan sounded from the couch, and his grin faded slightly. Right—he had a freeloader with him now. But that, too, pleased Shiv: to have Adam Arrow in such a precarious position.

“I must be in a dream,” Shiv said, mocking Adam’s statement from yesterday about how everything was a nightmare. And so Shiv welcomed his guide, growing friend, and perhaps something else, into the room as she brought in an assortment of clothes. To Shiv’s surprise, they weren’t only for Adam, but for him as well.

“I thought you could use a few sets yourself,” Uva said, holding some new pants for Shiv.

He held them up and blinked. “This is some kind of leather?”

“Moleskin.”

“Moleskin,” Shiv said. He looked down at the pants he was wearing—and winced. All the constant fights and the traveling he did to reach this place had left the clothes on his body looking like a ragged mess. She placed a few more sets of clothes for him on a nearby table, and dumped a color-clashing mess where Adam was sitting.

The Young Lord blinked blearily. “Why does he get the nice-looking ones?”

“Because I cooked for her yesterday, and I’m doing it again right now,” Shiv said, sneering at Adam. “Meanwhile, she had to get out of bed to deal with you having a psychotic episode.”

“It wasn’t a psychotic episode! I was—I woke up and found a group of humanoid spiders performing surgery on me. How would you react to something like that?’

Shiv considered Adam’s words. “Probably assume that one of my fellow chefs misplaced the wrong kind of brownie in our team dessert. Anyway.” Shiv placed a bowl in Adam’s lap too. The Young Lord blinked twice. “What? You have to eat too, don’t you?”

Adam stared down at Shiv’s efforts. A soft and creamy expanse of yogurt mixed with cut fruits and glistening vegetable clumps awaited him. “You… didn’t spit in this, right? Or add laxatives.”

Shiv leaned down very, very close to Adam. The Young Lord stared back, frowning. “Adam. If you ever insinuate that about me again, we will felling get bloody. It will be on until one of us dies for good. I don’t spit in the food of people who don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t deserve it?” Adam said.

“I don’t like you, Adam,” Shiv said, “but if I learned one thing from Georges, it’s that you can not like a lot of people in the world, and still only spit in the food of those who treat servers like garbage and constantly complain about something being too spicy—when there aren’t any spices in the food at all.”

The Young Lord gawked at Shiv for a moment, but the Deathless was no longer talking to him. Instead, he moved back to greet Uva, and he presented her a bowl of breakfast with a great deal more warmth. He even did it with a smile. ‘Now, sister,” Shiv breathed. “How did you sleep?”

“With anticipation,” she said, eyeing Shiv briefly before sinking her spoon into the yoghurt. “Did you add havadels to this?”

“Is that what the vegetables are called?”

“Yes. They’re usually for appetizers.”

“Hm. Forgive me and my ignorant surfacer ways. I tested it a few times and thought the crispness might go well with the fruit assortment and the creamy texture. Have a taste. Tell me what you think.”

Uva took a bite, left the spoon in her mouth, and blinked several times. “It’s…” she shook her head. “You’re right. It is fresh. But…”

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Shiv leaned in, narrowing his eyes. “Go on. Be honest.”

“I think the vegetable blunts the sweetness.” Uva swallowed slowly. “I rather like the sweetness of fruit.”

“Ah. I’ll keep that in mind.” He hummed. “Georges might have noticed that better. My greatest problem has always been an insensitivity to clashing flavors.”

“I wouldn’t call it a problem. Just a place to improve.” She took another slow bite, and he watched her expression. “It’s really quite good.”

“Ah. But you can’t blame me for wanting to get yesterday’s reaction out of you again.”

“We can’t always make something divine,” Uva said.

“No. But we can always try.”

They stopped talking and just stared at each other for a moment.

***

On the couch, Adam stared as he ate awkwardly, fighting the urge to go finish elsewhere.

“It’s like he doesn’t have any doubt or fear,” Valor muttered on the table. “Has he always been like this?”

It took Adam a moment to realize the dagger was talking to him. He swallowed. And winced. Dammit, the food was really

“Yes. The ritual. I know of that. You do understand that’s not his fault, yes?” Adam stared at the dagger, but continued eating his food. He let silence be his reply. “For what it is worth, I am not blaming you. It is a dark deed. One that has scarred more than a single life. And that is all I will say now.”

The Young Lord eyed the dagger again. It seemed Valor knew just how far to go without starting something truly messy. “So. Where’s the way back up?” Adam said, scooping another spoon of yogurt. “And when are we moving out?”

His dramatic interruption failed as Shiv was accounting his thought process behind the creation of breakfast, and Uva was just… She was staring at him, watching him talk. The Young Lord couldn’t believe this shit. It was like the Abyss was some kind of inverted world where he was the hated outcast who ruined things for everyone, and Shiv was some kind of beloved casanova for pale elves and spiderfolk.

Adam didn’t keep track of Shiv for good reason. Their history was an ugly one, and if Roland Arrow hadn’t regularly kept Adam informed about Shiv’s continued status as a Pathless, Adam would have simply pretended the Omenborn didn’t exist if he never ran into him. The Young Lord paused. That might be a lie, though. He remembered sensing Shiv in the Slayer’s Guild. He could have let the Omenborn pass through then, but… But he couldn’t help himself.

The hate was still there. Even now.

But there was something else as well.

Shiv didn’t need to die fighting the raven over and over to help Adam. Nor did he need to let Adam stay in his apartment. These things didn’t make up for the wounds of the past, but Shiv was right to an extent: Didn’t like and even hate was very different from didn’t respect at all.

And the breakfast was kind of good too, Adam begrudgingly admitted. Godsdammit. Maybe it would have been better to have him be a Chef. That might have helped me avoid… whatever this is. He watched Uva place a hand over her mouth as she fought to stop herself from giggling as Shiv recounted a brawl he apparently had with a “rodent of unusual size” in an alleyway. Broken Moon… This isn’t an act.

Adam’s stomach made a noise. And somehow, that broke Shiv’s conversation. The former Omenborn turned to regard the Young Lord with a wince. “Wait, Adam, how long has it been since you last ate?”

“The spiders tried to feed me some… paste at the hospital,” Adam muttered. “I kind of spat it out. Before that…” Before that, he could only remember bits and pieces of everything. He spent a time in a feverish delirium after the raven captured him. The damned assassin drugged him with some kind of vial—but they were attacked at some point as well. The past three days were more like a chaotic haze than a series of coherent events. “So, maybe Blackedge. It’s fine. My Physicality’s on the verge of a Skill Evolution. I can probably go almost a month without food or water.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be a comfortable month, will it?” Shiv said. He shook his head and handed his own bowl to Adam. The Young Lord blinked. “I can make more. Just eat up. We’ll deal with other matters afterward.”

Adam stared. “...Thanks.”

And then, with that, Shiv went back to detailing his desperate childhood battle, and described Georges coming out with a cleaver to finish the rat off as Shiv held it down—only for it to catch the descending blade with its teeth. After that, they let the rat go and named it an honorary chef for a worthy battle fought.

Uva’s efforts to keep herself poised broke, and laughter rang out from her like a morning bell. She reached out and brushed Shiv’s arm.

All the while, Adam just watched. What the felling hells. Does… does he have some kind of Charisma Skill as well?

***

“So, from what the Composer told me, our way back up to the surface will be through a gate—but it doesn’t sound like the gate is controlled by Weave. I haven’t gotten more details yet, but I suspect it’ll either be a place we have to pass through quietly or that we have to capture.” Shiv stopped talking briefly as he put a plate down in front of the Young Master, its contents minced meat and spices wrapped in some variation of lettuce. “Try this.”

Adam didn’t even hesitate anymore. He just tore into the food. Though his excuse was that he’d been starved for three days, the honest truth was that somehow, Shiv was just unnaturally godsdamned good at cooking even without having a full chef’s Path. So as the Young Lord’s breakfast turned to brunch, the once-object of his loathing recounted everything he’d been through.

“You fought a high vampire?” Adam asked while wolfing down a mouthful of food.

“Yes,” Shiv said. “It’s the reason I developed Biomancy—”

“Yeah, that too: How? Mana usually takes years to attune—” Adam trailed off. “Right. You hunted lesser vampires to earn a Path.”

Shiv grinned as his cover story worked. “I think I wasn’t that far from attuning before, anyway. I just needed a Path.”

“Still that’s… You managed to survive a lot.” Adam nodded.

Shiv snorted. “Do you have a Curse I don’t know about, Adam?”

“What? No? Why?”

“Because you act like complimenting me might make a demon hatch from inside you.”

Adam frowned and made a warding gesture. “Don’t even joke about that. The taint is—”

“Only associated with a specific demon,” Shiv said, eyeing Uva. “From the Dimension of Flies and Plague.”

The Umbral smirked. “You remembered.”

“I did. It helps that the speaker I heard it from has such memorable lips.”

“He just went for it,” Valor whispered off by the side. “No hesitation. Like he’s talking about the weather. Monstrous…”

Uva shook her head and half-heartedly chided Shiv for pushing his luck, but she didn’t seem put off at all.

Adam thought back to his own courtship with Isabella, and something inside him trembled. Could I say that with a straight face? Could I pull that off? He looked back at Shiv, and studied the easy smile on the Deathless’s face, like how he cleaned a plate as he worked. Maybe. Definitely. I’m not a coward. I’m not.

But Adam did doubt himself often. It came with the territory of being the son of a Town Lord—and a great hero of the Republic. And so, ultimately, it was Isabella who approached him after they spent some time making eyes at each other. Which was after months of awkward attempts from his side at getting closer and signalling his intent. He even had flowers mysteriously delivered.

Suddenly, another horrible thought materialized in Adam’s mind: he imagined Shiv going to the academy as well—and the image of Shiv being the popular boy at school spread through Adam’s being like a forest fire.

No, no! Gods! No! PLEASE ASCENDANTS, NO! Adam swallowed. No, they'd surely realize something’s wrong with him. His eyes, perhaps? That would keep people away from him… Wait? When did he get irises? What even is this? Am I jealous of his confidence? I hate this! I hate him!

“It goes in your mouth, not all over the table,” Shiv said, pointing a fork at Adam. The Young Lord looked and saw his hand shaking, with some of the minced meat leaking out. “If you don’t like it—”

Adam tore into the food again, like a dog starved for days. Shiv drew back and shook his head, muttering about understanding the spiderfolk more than he did his own people.

“Anyway,” Shiv said. “We’re not leaving the city. Not for a bit. Not until the Composer summons us again and elaborates on the route we take.”

The Young Lord gulped down another bite of food. He was about to voice his protests when Shiv laughed.

“What?”

“Cooking went up.” Shiv said.

“Again?” Uva said, narrowing her eyes.

“Again,” Shiv said.

***

Cooking > 22

“That’s… unnaturally fast growth,” the Umbral said. “But I will not complain. This pleases my tongue and stomach, after all.”

Shiv gave a coy smile. “And I’m honored to please your tongue. And stomach.”

“Shiv…” She rolled her eyes.

“How?” Valor groaned off by the side. “How does he say these phrases so easily? And why do they work?”

Shiv blinked at the dagger. “Because I mean them.” Then, Shiv shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

Skill Gained: Silver Tongue 1 (Adept)