Dissociation and Dinner with Her Parents

The first thing that came back to him was the smells. Slow simmered boar flank, a deep rich scent that left his mouth watering. The smoky allure of firewood burning. The gentle hint of lavender in the rare soap beatrice used for her clothing and pelts that drove their prices through the roof. It was strange. He had spent days smelling salt, blood, and smoke. This was the first time that things smelled like home.

His eyes came into focus again, Beatrice was still sat right beside him. She was whittling at something to keep herself busy, an ivory tusk being worked into his own likeness. He quirked an eyebrow at that.

“Is… that for… when I’m gone?” His voice was shaky, and talking felt like swallowing hot coals but he persisted. The attempt at humor had her attention snap to him. Those big brown eyes stared a hole directly into his soul. Her bottom lip quivered as she flipped between frowning and smiling.

“Hey sailor, you gave us a bit of a scare there.” Her own voice was close to breaking too. A teary eyed smile remained though. She slowly curled an arm around him, kissing his cheek as she did. “Thought you’d lost yourself to the frenzy.”

Before he could further inquire an older orc woman sat at the table. He recognized bits of Beatrice in her immediately. Their hair fell in the same way on their shoulders, and the shape of their noses was the same. Her eyes were a darker brown, but still had that same piercing quality as Rangpar and Beatrice. This must be her mother.

“Hello lad, like my little bee said, you gave us quite the scare. Poor Rangpar had to go throw a tantrum in the woods to keep from praying over you for the past few hours. When I pinched his ear he ultimately elected to chop the tantrum trees into firewood. We’ll be stocked until winter thanks to that.” Her voice was somewhat deep for a woman. It made sense since she looked to be easily seven feet tall. A verifiable giant for a woman in Thellin.

“Oh, uh sorry about that? Not sure exactly what happened. Just uh, saw a bottle drop and something in me snapped I guess?” Wilkes’s mind was still hazy as he tried to recount it. “Have we met before Ma’am? My name’s Wilkes, I’m Rebecca’s son.”

He stuck out his bandaged hand to shake hers and she just chuckled. Lightly shaking her head she stood up, she was indeed nearly seven feet tall. A similarly muscular build to Beatrice towered over him. The potential fear was disarmed by the floral print apron and knowing smirk on her face. With two wide steps she was completely around what he realized was a dinner table. Her arms wrapped around him, mildly defined biceps squeezing the sides of his head. He did everything in his power to ignore the enormous breasts in his face. Beatrice had inherited more than just eyes and nose from her mother it seemed. At least he knew Captain Tellish’s type.

“You silly boy. I’m Beatrice’s mother Salima, your mom and I grew up together. I mean I practically babysat you a few times until you were old enough to be left to your devices with Erik. How is that scamp?” She spoke warmly. The mention of his mother hung a bit heavily. He struggled to remember the days she was talking about. He knew the memories were there, but they were seemingly out of reach.

“Oh ye were, I remember yea, just had a long couple days.” Wilkes spoke quickly. He did his best to dodge the question of Erik’s well being. He failed to do so as she scrunched her nose and stared him down a little harder. “... Erik has known better days. He’s become obsessed with magic lately.”

“Mhmm. How obsessed? You know your mama left town to go be a cleric of The-” Salima began to rant before The captain came in and hushed her with a kiss. The two exchanged a heated glance before her smile returned and she turned back to Wilkes.

“Sorry lad, is my dear sally boring you to death after you were scared half way there?” Captain Tellish joked, he got a quick swat to the back of his head as repayment as he chortled. He pulled a seat out at the head of the table, settling down with a mild grunt. His hat came off with a fluid motion, the wisps of grey at his temples stretched nearly to the nape of his neck now. Clean cut line as a ring around his head from this perspective. A forced smile on his face greeted him. The idea that the captain could grow old was a new one to Wilkes.

A hissing sound came from the kitchen, snapping Wilkes out of his thinking. The water boiling beyond the pot’s reach alerted the whole table. Salima rushed away from the table swearing under her breath. She peaked her head from around the corner and brought out four bowls of the stew. She hesitated with the fifth until she heard trudging steps through the door. An exhausted Rangpar meandered through to the table. His eyes were half lidded as he gave a dopey smile to Wilkes.

“Friend, you regain yourself, yes?” Rangpar asked, Wilkes nodded and gave him a thumbs up with his bandaged hand. A scowled pressed for a moment until the bowl of soup sat in front of him and argued for a smile. The orc obliged his meal and ate happily.

Wilkes stared at his own bowl for a moment, waiting for everyone else to at least start eating. As soon as Salima put a spoonful to his lips he began to eat. The broth was warm on his lips. The flavor was rich and hearty. The hint of salt elevated it to be a truly divine taste. His next spoonful contained a cut of carrot and celery, the soft vegetables gave him a warm respite when floating in the broth. He found himself smiling in earnest again. The boar flank he had in the next truly satisfied him. Tender and rich, mingling with the flavors of the broth and vegetables, it was a perfect compliment. As he was polishing off the bowl he finally recognized why it was such a great meal. It was his mother’s recipe. The same one she had given him the one time he had actually gotten sick growing up. He set his spoon down gently, and smiled at the people still eating at the table.

“Jeez lad, knew I worked ye hard, but you eat like a horse. Sally dear, wouldja fetch the poor boy seconds when ye finish yer own?”

“No Jonah, you can get off your lazy rear and pour it up for your guest.”

“Oh if we’re going by who’s guest he is, it oughta be lil bee then yea?”

“Hmm yes, Beatrice, go fix your new suitor a second bowl of soup.”

“MOM!”

The huntress scurried off, and he was left with Mr. and Mrs. Tellish alongside Rangpar. No one spoke for a moment, but finally Salima piped up.

“Right last time these two were this quiet something had happened. And from the stories I’ve heard you’re too mouthy to be this polite. What’s the deal?” She folded her arms and stared at the incredibly quiet crowd of men.

“Just some trouble on the water. Nothing too grave.” Jonah lied with a smile. The mirth on his face failed to force the crinkles at his eyes to keep up the charade. Rangpar remained quiet.

“We get many fish. We lose many more. Rangpar tell stories to little barge lads. Svend is Rangpar favorite now. Spirited little man.” The orc spoke slowly, ensuring he fully chewed his food between sentences. A lie by omission.

“Just got told where the cap’n really got the ship from is all. Kinda reconciling that in the old noggin.” Wilkes spoke softly, no lie told. Salima nodded slowly.

“Right. Well if no one wants to tell the whole truth at dinner, none of you lot get dessert. Lil bee and I will eat the whole pie.” She spoke coldly. Rangpar dropped his spoon and his mouth hung open. He quickly swung his head between staring at Jonah and Salima.

“Aunty, that is unreasonable. Please share the pie. At least with rangpar, your favorite nephew.” The orc pleaded. He did his best to give puppy dog eyes, but Salima was having none of it.

“Hmm. Sally dear, let the lads have pie. I’ll go to bed without it or your tender embrace.” Jonah spoke, Beatrice groaned in disgust as she set the new bowl of soup down in front of Wilkes. She placed the one she had seemingly met for herself in front of Rangpar. The orc perked up immediately and happily ate the stew.

“Right then, you’ll be sleeping in the yard. I’ll wither away alone in a bed too large for being alone.” Salima said, throwing a head to her forehead in feigned disdain

“Woah now, I will still sleep in my house dearest. But not at your bedside.” Jonah retorted, setting his own spoon down on the table. Salima queried an eyebrow.

“Oh we’ve resorted to dearest have we now Jonah? Is yer scruffy self finally in the corner?” Salima teased, she then turned to rangpar and spoke with teasing authority. “If you throw your uncle out tonight, I’ll let you have pie.”

Rangpar’s head slowly turned to his uncle. Jonah scowled at him. The tension held for a few seconds. As the two fought away smiles.

“What kind of pie?” The orc asked softly as he weighed his options, stroking his chin philosophically. The make or break detail had Wilkes on the edge of his seat.

“Apple. Your favorite.” Salima laid it on thick, licking her lips at the mention of the filling. Rangpar’s resolve visibly crumbled. His hand rose from scratching to covering his mouth as he leaned on it. He playfully buried his face in both his hands before lifting to face his uncle.

“Rangpar loves you uncle Jonah.” The orc’s face was stoney and reserved as he yielded to his aunt’s whims. A true expression of despair at the reality of the situation. To sell out his family for food.

Wilkes busted into laughter there. He nearly doubled over while leaning on the table. Beatrice joined him first. Salima and Rangpar followed after. Jonah just scowled at the group while grumbling.

He rose from the table and walked towards what he assumed was a liquor cabinet since he drew his flask from his coat pocket. A glass bottle, barely containing a fifth of its contents, came out in his iron grip. He tipped its mouth into the opening of the flask. It gurgled twice and he lifted the larger container, sealed it, and placed it back in the cabinet.

“Mister Tellish, drinking after dinner when you had a fight with your wife? Why don’t you just go to the tavern with the rest of the dogs of thellin!” Salima teased him further, walking up to pinch his cheek. He grunted and gingerly pushed her hand away. She giggled like an apprentice girl while taking his hand in her own. The two began to slow dance in their den.

“Well if everyone is retiring for the night, I best be on my own way then.” Wilkes said to the gathered family. His family if he played his cards right. The idea was pleasing, but still distant. Beatrice gave him a soft smile.

“I could walk with you, if you’d like.” Beatrice offered sweetly. This shy side of her’s was an ever welcome revelation.

“Oh no you don’t young lady. Last time you walked alone with that boy you ended up in the woods all night.” Jonah piped up, he had a fatherly anger Wilkes had only really seen in the market. “And you boy, straight home no funny business. You’re getting three days paid off on account of your accident today.”

“What accident?” Salima questioned.

“Well Sally, I don’t know, maybe the lad having a breakdown in the middle of the dock and being half carried here by Rangpar? Sound familiar?” Jonah fussed at her, she scowled at him and ended their dance. Wilkes heard the apologies start as he snuck out the door.

The fading light of the sun washed over the cobbled path back to town. The fading pastels dyed the town’s usual brown and grays. He had a two mile walk back to his home, but he found himself getting lost consistently. Every path he took led back to the oracle’s workshop. He tried walking to the bakery, then doubling back across the southside. Impossible he always ended on the eastern edge of the square. Standing dead in front of the door painted a purple black color. It was the most expensive thing in town besides the heavy robes they had worn.

Despite his own common intentions, he knocked on the door. To his surprise it was already open and it swung wide enough for him to waltz in.