Stirring the Pot

The fire cracked gently as tonights stew bubbled. The scent wasn’t exactly appetizing, but it was food, and no one had complained.

Wyll, ever the gentleman, had offered to stir—but ended up mostly posing with the ladle like it was a rapier. By the time bowls were passed around, the sun had dipped low, shadows stretching long over the Blighted Village.

We ate in a loose circle, the silence between us born more of fatigue than tension. Until Wyll cleared his throat.

"Since I’ll be traveling with you all now, allow me to properly introduce myself. Wyll Ravengard—most call me the Blade of the Frontiers. But my friends call me Wyll."

Shadowheart didn’t look up from her bowl. "Well, if we ever become friends, I know what to call you."

Wyll chuckled like he thought it was charming.

Lae’zel glanced at him, unimpressed. "Another blade is welcome. But your words are inefficient. And loud."

Karlach laughed, warm and open. "Don’t mind them. You’ll grow on us. Probably."

"If I didn’t know better," Wyll said, grinning, "I’d think you lot weren’t thrilled about a noble sword at your side."

"It's not the sword we are worried about, but now we have more loud mouths to feed." I muttered.

Karlach elbowed me lightly, leaving a slight scorchmark on my shirt. "Play nice. He’s got good intentions. I think."

Dinner settled in, and with bowls mostly empty, the conversation drifted. Karlach, predictably, was the first to steer it somewhere weird.

"So, Wyll," she said, tail flicking behind her, "Usually Tav here does this ritual after dinner. Helps with the tadpoles. Little... head-melting spa treatment."

He blinked. "A ritual?"

"Mhm," she said, grinning. "It’s real cozy."

Shadowheart shifted in her seat. "It’s arcane in nature. A temporary suppression of the tadpoles we carry. You included."

"Necessary," Lae’zel added flatly.

"I see," Wyll said, visibly intrigued. "So it’s magical. It prevents the symptoms?"

"Exactly," I said flatly.

"Requires contact," Shadowheart said delicately.

"Pressure work," Lae’zel added.

"And sweat," Karlach said, licking her spoon.

Wyll straightened. "Normally I'd offer the ladies respite first, but since I’ve yet to undergo this ritual myself, I would be the one most in need. Please do me first"

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward me.

Shadowheart blushed, casting her gaze down and to the side. Karlach gave me a firm nod of encouragement. Lae’zel stared directly ahead, her expression frozen in a mix of confusion and system error.

Wyll smiled politely, utterly unaware. "Well?"

I stared into my empty bowl.

Gods help me.