A Marsh Guest

[themorbidsocialite]

Bugsby's Marshes were home to a wide and varied array of micro- and macroorganisms, the biodiversity one of its most notable features. Yes, a great many of the creatures were incredibly dangerous, but wasn't every environment filled with such risk? Surely, all one had to do to avoid assault was avoid bothering the various animals. Surely.

This was how the Morbid Socialite- Mori- found himself in the depths of the marshes, gathering samples of water, plant life, lichen, and insects to start his research. He was too busy marking notes on a variety of mushroom to notice the eyes on him. The thoughtful hum to themselves and the squeaking of tall boots, worn to avoid staining the hems of their trousers, were enough to hide the sound of something treading through the muck. They only noticed the disturbance when the bugs they'd been surrounded by had scattered. He turned and his eyes widened, finding a second pair staring into his.

"Oh, bloody 'ell."

Screaming echoed across the marsh, likely reaching at least someone's ears.

Comments

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori's bite started tentatively, until something lit behind the eyes. The crisp crust, the tender apples, the cinnamon and saccharine syrup-like filling. "Goodness..." It took all in them to fight the urge to gorge themselves on it. It was sweet and delightful and it was very obvious in his expression that he was enjoying it immensely. "And you made this yourself? It's remarkable!"

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

"Thank you! I'm glad it tastes alright!" Maven smiled happily, "I admit, I was a little unsure because I used a bit less cinnamon than the recipe called for. I love the taste of cinnamon, but sometimes I find too much to be overwhelming. I like it this way, but I'm always worried someone else will find it bland."

There was still a good, even amount of cinnamon all throughout the pie even with the reduction, so it definitely wasn't lacking in cinnamon taste.

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori snickered slightly behind a hand. "Have you met our fellows of London, dear Maven? If you can taste the cinnamon, it's too much cinnamon for them. They would down a carafe of water with one bite. I find the amount of cinnamon just fine, not too much, not too little. You've done a wonderful job."

They savored each bite with a beaming delight, happy with both the dessert and the idea of a friend with good taste.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

"Thank you, I am genuinely happy to hear that!" Maven said, and then laughed, "And that is fair! I remember what an adjustment it was to get used to my Father's family's food. I used to think I was bad with spices because my Mother would always have hers so much spicier than mine, my sister, and Father's, but then when I went to live with my Father's family the food was just... it was like nothing! I suppose it's like they say, you can't buy taste, in any sense of the word." Maven finished with an eye roll and a sarcastic smirk. Hearing her talk of her Father's family was probably the most disparaging Mori had seen her be of anyone.

[themorbidsocialite]

Caught somewhat by surprise, Mori laughed. "Cheers to that!" As he drank a few more sips of wine with the comedic toast, Mori began to wonder if the lack of blood for the time being was making him into a lightweight, the ratio of alcohol to blood far greater.

That would be a problem for later, however.

"If you don't mind me asking, where is your mother from? I don't wish to presume anything by guessing." But presuming that she wouldn't wish to talk of her father was likely a safe bet.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Maven finished her sip before answering, "She was born in England, but my Nanaji was from India. She and Papa died when I was too young to really remember them. Though... sometimes I think I remember her singing, but I might just be mixing that up with memories of my Mother singing, she would sing the same songs Nanaji sung to her." She looked down at her wine glass, looking contemplative, "I had always thought I might travel there someday. I guess... that isn't possible anymore."

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori hummed sadly. "I'm sure we'll find some way. We can't possibly be trapped here forever, can we? India will await you, I'm sure of it."

He swirled his last sip of wine. "It's rather strange, both our mothers come from England and grandmothers from elsewhere. Odd, how that works but not unwelcome."

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Maven hummed back noncommittally. She finished the last bit of her wine glass and then pushed the glass away, bringing her tea cup closer instead, "I shouldn't have any more. I'm afraid I tend to be a bit... weepy if I drink too much."

She tilted her head at that, "Oh really? Where is your grandmother from?"

[themorbidsocialite]

"Fortunate, then, that I'm a joyous drinker. I'll drink for both of us," Mori said, snorting at his own joke and taking another sip and refilling his glass. He considered the drink as he thought about the answer to the question. "Transylvania? Romania, somewhere around Bistritz. Married my grandfather and moved to Shincliffe with him. I can't imagine how it must be, going from the Carpathians to little old Shincliffe. From India to England. To land in a place so unfamiliar, with very little to your name, with languages you can't speak, people who look like no one you've ever known."

Mori sat up a tad straighter. "Actually, that does sound a touch familiar."

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Maven laughed at Mori's realization, "You're right! The parallels are kind of funny to think about and compare when you look at it that way." She looked down at the tea in her hands, "The Neath is such a fascinating place. I think my mother and father would have loved to see it. They always loved learning all about the world around them and exploring new places." She looked up, "What about you, do you think your family would enjoy the Neath?"

[themorbidsocialite]

"Ach, no, not really." Mori watched the wine tilt in the glass, or rather the glass tilt around the wine as the latter stayed level. "Well, I never really knew the rest of my family. Just my mother. Horrid woman, she was. And rather a terrible cook when it came to anything but the seasonings. But didn't know my father or foremothers or uncles. Couldn't tell you if any of them would like it."

Mori leaned back against the back of the chair, not lifting the legs. "And mother wouldn't have a lick of it. Devilish, she might've thought, neighboring close to Hell and with squid face people and all. Never did like the safety of darkness, her."

"Ah, but you know what you're parents are like! I'm curious to hear of them!"