Friday, September 23, 2005

   Chapter 8: Down the Acheron River (part 2)
The creak of the door broke him out of his training. He sheathed Lucaya just as Panda came in the room.
“’Morning, Pen,” he said cheerfully. “Where’s Lucifer?”
“He went to the bathroom.”
“Well, let him know that we’re eating breakfast now, and we’ll be leaving right after.”
“Okay.”
“You guys getting along?”
“Hmmm,” Pen answered, which served as a “yes.”
“Glad to hear it,” Panda winked. “Well, see you in a couple minutes.” As quickly as he had come, he was also gone.
Only half a minute later, the door opened again. It was Lucifer this time.
“Panda just came by here,” Pen told him, reciting his message.
“Well, I guess there’s no time to loose,” the black-winged angel sighed, gathering up his cloak. Pen slipped into his shoes and put on his backpack. “I love this eastern food that your people cook up.”
“I’m not a big fan of it myself,” was the answer. “I don’t like to eat.”
“You what?” Lucifer was very surprised. The door slammed shut behind them as they left the room. “You know, your body sort of needs food to survive.”
“Really?”
Lucifer was laughing. “You didn’t know? Are you being serious?!”
“Yeah. Nobody ever told me that!” Pen had always assumed that eating something was a form of tradition and entertainment that most people needed. It had never occurred to him that it was actually required.
“Well, it’s true! You don’t eat, you starve. That means you die. And, come to think of it, it’s not a very nice way to die, either.”
As they descended the last flight of stairs, the noise and the smells of breakfast whafted up to them. Pen could hear Lucifer’s stomach growl loudly. The angel chuckled and patted his belly. “See? My body’s already complaining.”
They took a seat at an empty round table. A lady listed the choices for breakfast, took their order—Pen got whatever Lucifer got—and returned within seconds with two plates. Lucifer dug right in; Pen took a fork and stabbed a piece of wild boar ham.
After a few minutes, heading Lucifer’s advice, he started to eat, begining with the mashed potatoes. But it felt strange to him, almost silly. He felt like he was wasting his time and energy. After two mouthfulls, he put down his fork. “I can’t do it,” he growled, pushing away his plate.
Lucifer, contentedly munching, shot him a glance and put down his fork. “Why no-“
“Are you going to eat that?” squeaked a familiar voice. Sasheeta landed on their table and pointed at Pen’s ham.
“No. You can have it.” He pushed the plate over to her, where she snatched away the bacon with her forepaws and took a huge bite. The piece of meat was nearly bigger than she was.
“Is that a pseudodragon?” Lucifer asked, distracted.
“Yeah. Her name is Sasheeta,” Pen sighed. “I almost lost my head over her.”
“She’s…” he started, squinting at the dragon’s perfect tinyness as she gnawed at the ham. Her eyes were big and questioning at his strange expression. “She’s… really cute…”
Sasheeta swallowed, raised her head, and smiled, her head crest raising up in happyness (which side affects included making her look even more cute). The boys, all other topics forgotten, couldn’t help but chuckle.
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