TravelingDreamer
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B5—Chapter 20: Apologies Served Hot
🕑 Added 2025-01-05 16:14:47 +0000 UTCAfter my emotional explosion, I shut myself in my room for a couple of days to find my balance again. The fire wouldn’t go back into its cage—it was out for good—but I could find my footing. I needed to learn to live with it, to keep it from taking over.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my hands. They were steady now, no longer trembling with leftover adrenaline. But inside, the flames simmered, waiting for a crack to escape.
I felt bad about pushing Mahya. Shouting at her. Well, mostly bad.
I slumped back against the wall, running a hand through my hair. I’d definitely overreacted, but she wasn’t blameless either. The flames in me still whispered, urging me to shift the blame entirely onto her shoulders. It was her fault, they hissed. She pushed too hard.
But I knew better. Yes, she’d been too demanding. Too scolding. Treating me like a kid who needed a lesson. But that didn’t excuse my behavior. Violence is never the answer. And neither is lashing out at my friends just because I’ve lost control.
That part was on me.
The evening of the second day, a knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts. It was soft and measured. I let out a long breath before answering. “Yes?”
“Can I talk to you?” Al’s voice drifted through the door.
I stood, my joints stiff from hours of sitting in the same spot. The wood floor creaked under my weight as I crossed to the door and opened it. Al stood there, hands clasped behind his back, his posture as formal as ever.
I stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. “What did you want to talk about?”
“About your hiding,” he said, stepping into the room.
I folded my arms across my chest, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m not hiding. I’m stitching back my self-control.”
Al’s brow lifted slightly, and he gave a faint shake of his head. “That is where you are wrong,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a quiet weight. “You locked yourself away once, and when it broke through, it was too much to deal with. Don’t try to lock it away again, or the next time you unleash it…” He let the sentence hang, watching me closely. “It will be worse.”
I rubbed my face. “Right now, I scare even myself,” I admitted, my voice low. “It’s not just the anger. I felt the raw power of the fire I could control. If I get really angry…” My hand dropped to my side. “I might incinerate somebody. I don’t want it to be one of you.”
Al watched me carefully, his face calm but his eyes sharp. “You really believe that you might hurt us?”
I nodded slowly, my gaze dropping to the floor. The fear was real. Heavy.
Al took a step closer, closing the space between us. “Do not fear,” he said softly. “You are stronger and more in control than you think. Instead of fighting it, let it be. The control will come.” He held my gaze, his expression unwavering. “And do not fear for us. We are not helpless. We can deal with one irate wizard.”
I barked out a short laugh. “Irate is kind of a misnomer,” I said. “More like out-of-control wizard.”
Al’s lips curved slightly, his version of a smile. “I don’t agree with you,” he said. “Even at the peak of your anger, I did not see even one fiery spark. It was only words.”
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair again. “Okay.”
Al’s gaze softened, and he reached out to squeeze my shoulder. “Besides,” he said, “Rue is complaining about eating food from our Storage. And we need more single-use scrolls to finish clearing the city.”
My brow lifted, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Aha! That’s why you came here. Now I see your devious plan.”
Al chuckled softly. “You saw through me.”
His hand remained on my shoulder, the grip warm and steady. “Don’t hide, my friend,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Face what troubles you, and we will help you deal with it.”
I nodded, the tension easing from my chest. “Thanks, Al.”
I hadn’t gone down yet, but now I felt ready to face the damn blinking light. It had been flashing in the corner of my vision for two days, pulsing like a heartbeat I couldn’t silence. Ignoring it had been hard. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that red glow, demanding my attention.
But I wasn’t ready then. I wasn’t about to claim a prize for losing control. It felt wrong.
Level up
+3 Perception, +3 Vitality, +2 Creativity, +3 free points
Bard Level 7
Stat points: 3
I needed some external help, so I checked the mental aspects of the traits again.
Strength or Constitution.
Strength was about holding up under pressure, keeping it together when everything around me fell apart. The ability to push through challenges without breaking down or giving up. It sounded like something I needed after my outburst.
But Constitution…
That one hit deeper. It wasn’t about enduring the chaos outside—it was about staying true to who I am inside. Confidence. Resilience. The ability to stick to my ideals, even when everything tested them.
I drummed my fingers on my knee, torn. One would help me weather the storm. The other would make sure I didn’t lose myself in it.
I wasn’t sure which one I needed more.
Strength
Mental: This quality determines how effectively you can deal with challenges, pressures, and stress without breaking down or giving up.
Constitution
Mental: This quality determines your confidence and mental resilience. Your ability to stay true to yourself and your ideals.
After some deliberation, I chose Constitution.
Stay true to yourself and your ideals.
That line stuck with me. It wasn’t about pushing through challenges or enduring pain—it was about holding on to who I was, even when everything around me tried to pull me in another direction.
And that was exactly what I needed.
While fiddling with the Traits, I noticed Wind had progressed from Novice to Medior, and Fire now had [Novice] beside it. Still no levels in Wizard, though.
I stuck my tongue out at the Guidance. A flicker of amusement came through the permanent connection in my mind, like a faint chuckle from someone who knew they’d outsmarted me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “Laugh it up.”
It was time to face the music.
I made my way downstairs, my footsteps heavy, like I was walking to a reckoning.
Mahya glanced up from the table, her expression guilty but hopeful, like someone caught between apologizing and bracing for a scolding. Her hands fidgeted with a small mechanical part, turning it over and over between her fingers.
Before either of us could speak, Rue bounded toward me, tail wagging like a hyperactive metronome. He danced in circles around my legs, his excitement practically vibrating through the air. “Yummy food!” he demanded, his voice echoing in my mind, loud and insistent. “John make yummy food!”
I snorted, rubbing the back of my neck. “Good to see someone’s priorities are in order.”
As an apology, I cooked an extra fancy meal, using the snake meat from the Occurrence and some of the cream I bought in the last world. The kitchen filled with rich, savory scents as I worked, my hands moving instinctively, slicing and searing with practiced precision.
I started with a snake roulade—thin cuts of meat pounded flat, stuffed with herbs, dried fruits, and a delicate mushroom filling, then rolled and tied. The meat sizzled in a pan, browning to perfection before it went into the oven to finish cooking.
While that baked, I whisked together a cream sauce infused with citrus zest and a hint of the spiced wine from Lumis. It thickened beautifully, the aroma tangy and sweet with a touch of heat from the pepper seeds I’d crushed into it.
For sides, I roasted root vegetables—bright orange and purple tubers from Lumis and the farming community in Zindor I knew from experience would caramelize wonderfully. I tossed them in a glaze made from honey and a splash of vinegar, balancing sweetness with a hint of sharpness.
A delicate salad of greens and edible flowers came next, drizzled with a vinaigrette I whipped up from the nut oil I’d traded for. I sprinkled it with roasted seeds for a bit of crunch, the colors popping against the dark wooden serving plate.
And for the final touch—a dessert, because even Rue deserved something sweet after days of “dried rations”. I whipped the cream until it formed soft peaks, folding it into a mousse made from crushed berries. It had a deep, rich flavor, somewhere between tart and sweet, with just a hint of earthiness from the wild herbs I’d added.
By the time I set the plates down, Rue was practically vibrating with anticipation, his nose hovering near the table. “Yummy food! Yummy food!” he chanted in my mind, tail wagging furiously and feet dancing a tap dance.
Mahya watched me from across the table, her expression softening as I slid a plate in front of her. I wiped my hands on a towel, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Peace offering,” I said, giving her a small, tentative smile.
She looked at the plate, then back at me. “Okay, you’re forgiven,” she said with a grin. “But only because this smells amazing.”
Rue’s voice piped up, loud and excited. “Forgiven! Now eat!”
“I’m sorry too, for pushing you,” Mahya’s voice said in my mind, soft and sincere.
I caught her gaze and nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Her shoulders eased, the tension melting away. We were good again.
Rue let out a satisfied huff, flopping onto the floor with a dramatic thud. “Now eat!” he demanded, tail thumping like a drumbeat.
Mahya laughed, her usual spark returning. “Rue’s right. Let’s eat before he decides to claim it all.”
I chuckled, picking up my fork. “Fair warning—if he beats you to the dessert, I’m not making more.”
“Not a chance,” Al said, his tone as dry as ever. His gaze flicked to the dessert, then back to me with a rare glint of amusement. “I saw what you made. Rue will not get near it.”
Rue’s ears perked up, and he huffed indignantly. “Rue fast!”
Mahya grinned, shaking her head. “You’d better be. Al looks ready to fight you for it.”
Al lifted his fork and nose with a regal air. “I do not fight. I win.”
Comments
Obran
If freedom comes from singing, I figured control would come from cookin… cooking: the controlled use of heat to create meals.
