Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

Chatting with Thery [20 Trandary 4261]

Thery acquired me for lunch today. "After all, we have almost the same name, so we ought to eat almost the same food once in a while."

I hadn't thought about it that way, but we do have almost the same name. At least, if I were Rassimel, and if I were actually named "Sythyry" instead of the long squirmy thing I actually am named, then most likely I would get nicknamed "Thyry", pronounced almost like "Thery". Which is of course the traditional nickname for "Teltheryan". Never mind that naming a Rassimel with "Sythyry" is rather like naming a Gormoror with "Twinkle-smiles", or an Orren with "Trust" [which is a common Cani given name].

Still, I am generally glad to be acquired for lunch, so long as it's not by Rhedwy or Iska or some such. We just went to the buttery, since we have classes nearby in Locador and nearby in Tempador, and neither of us have such mightiness in Locador or Tempador as to make getting to them from a great farness so easy.

In the buttery at lunch, two-thirds of a lozen will let you get whatever foods you like from the various foods which three berserk Orren chefs and their six Herethroy sous-chefs have chosen to prepare. Feeding four species of students and faculty and whatnots -- not counting a few rarity students, of which my tastes are surely the easiest to satisfy -- must be a task and a half.

(I refer to Rhedwy. Sleeth generally prefer their food to be alive at the start of a meal. Gourmet Sleeth of course like their food to be well-flavored and well-spiced. There are various means to arrange this, of which I presume the Sleeth prefer the most painful.)

Navigating the buttery is always a challenge for me, as the plates are thick and wooden and very awkward to fly with and I certainly dare not not fly, as there are deans about. (Dean Celandine was there, and gave me an apologetic look.) So, since Thery had chosen to acquire me for lunch, I prevailed upon her to carry my plate.

This meant that I followed her as she helped herself. Which I have done a hundred times, with one friend or another at the buttery; it is no odd thing.

Thery poured herself a quarter-chalice of mulled quendry wine (without the usual condiments), and filled it the rest of the way with prenjuice, and a scoop of pondygreen. She glowered at it as she did. "I'm quite sure I'll be tired of this by next year."

"It is a bit of an odd combination, it seems to me, Thery. Pondygreen's a bit salty to go properly in wine, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "The prenjuice cuts that. It's sort of bitter though, and lumpy. Ah, well, it's good for me and someone."

Right: she is pregnant, and trying to stay that way.

I peered at her plate. "How much of that is food that you're supposed to eat, and how much of that is food that you actually want? I know about Herethroy co-lovers carrying eggs, one of my ~mother~'s servants was, but not about any mammals..."

"You don't know about what's good for Zi Ri?" she grinned.

"I don't, but I won't need to for a while or two yet. A while or eighty-three-thousand-and-two, even." I curled my tail tight: I would rather have deans break all my paws than to even expose my organs of generation, much less use them. (This is a matter of pain, not embarrassment. I have a separate set of organs for amusement and body-play; but actually producing baby Zi Ri is a matter of considerable pain from conception to egglaying.)

Thery:"Well, the buttery's not always the best place for eating well just now. Still, there's guntry liver in the stew, and that's good. Quendry wine is good too, preferably mulled with everything..."

Me:"I suppose you could make the meatballs of liver for it, and it would be twice as good."

Thery:"I'll suggest that to Yarwain... Spinach of course, even buttery spinach with nuts. Stag-radish is supposedly good too, so I took some, but it's nasty today."

Me:"You just don't like the connotations. They don't serve it with clam sauce here; it's just chopped up and boiled and buttered."

Thery:"Well, Yarwain had better not ask me for a whole one with clam sauce. He'd have to work awfully hard for it."

Me:[unwisely]"Well, I knew he had some secret a few days ago, but I thought he was having a fling with Iska."

Thery:[hissing]"What? Was he?"

Me:"Not a bit so! I was very the wrong! You knew his secret -- you talked him into it!"

Thery:"Ah, that." She grinned and patted her belly. "We did talk to Iska about it. She never did quite seem to understand that we absolutely need to keep it secret for as long as possible."

Me:"From me?"

Thery:"No, not from you; you won't be called upon to explain the situation."

Me:"All the Cani know, I should think."

Thery:"Not for sure; I've been wearing a baffling perfume."

Me:"Good enough, I hope... Still, how secret can you keep it, with a chalice of pondygreen and a plateful of guntry liver and spinach and stag-radish?"

Thery:"Not as secret as I would like. But I'm in a bit of a bind, you know: I want to keep the secret hidden, and I want to keep the secret and not lose it. It's hard to do both of those -- hard to do either of them, really."

I hugged her wrist with two loops of tail. Nestrune blinked over from two tables away, and surely muttered, "I thought zie mostly liked Orren."

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