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He yawned as he cleaned off the counters. If he wanted to do this, he wanted to do it correctly , after all. Luckily, he rarely had very much of anything at all on the counters. Food was merely fuel, after all, for all that he could now afford the finer quality ingredients.
Not that it being accurate mattered , it would never be Accurate and that was at least half of the point.
“Ah hell. I don’t have enough mixed fruit left. I guess there’s probably a Walmart nearby here? Probably? This is America, after all, so no Lidl’s or Tesco or anything proper like that.” It was odd talking to himself, but it was also the best bet for not….awakening Bálor before he wanted to be awake and so be it and let him sleep .
Grumbling, he pulled on a jacket and steeled himself to deal with the crowds that seemed ever present at such places here. And then swore and put his grocery bags back down as he realized the key missing step that he had to do before he left.
“List, list. Liosta Siopadóireacht!” Got to have a shopping list, he’d over buy otherwise! It didn’t matter. He could afford such things now. And he felt that Bálor actually appreciated the nicer things, but that was very hard to tell. For as long as they’d been together, it was still rife with miscommunication.
So then!
He started rattling the cabinets checking on what he had on hand for what he wanted to make. It would never do to leave them before checking, even if it did annoy him to have to check each and every time simply because he only ever bought barely what he needed and nought past that.
“We have enough tea and clean hot water, check. We need the mixed fruit, of course. Brown sugar?” He pulled open the container and saw the sad remains of the bag. “Brown sugar is needed, okay. Still have good eggs and butter, right. I don’t think bread soda can go bad. And I always need more flour.” Did bread soda go bad? Well, it absorbed odours. “Okay fine, we chuck the old bread soda. Baking soda is what it’s called here, I believe. Hm.” Fairly sure it was called that.
Shaking his head, he pulled open the spice cabinet. “Okay, and we could probably use more cinnamon but it’s not dire yet, at least.” The spice mix looked okay so perhaps get more later.
With that that it occurred to him that he should check the loaf pans and...
...He yanked open the cabinet that held the baking parchment and started swearing. “Oh god damn it , I knew I was about to forget something. More baking parchment it is as well!” This time he’d remembered to do that but it was still infuriating to have run out. Again.
Muttering to himself about how this better be the full list this time, he finally started on his way out to the store.
~~~
God he hated dealing with crowds. Being in front of them? Great! Trying to move through them when they flat out refused to part? Terrible . He was so used to people parting for him. For him? No. Not him, but for Bálor. Ugh, Jesus he hated the memory bleed over.
On the plus side, talking to oneself too quietly (and in another language to boot) generally got people to leave you alone. He’d take it, for now.
“Baking soda, bread soda, baking soda…”
“Pardon me, but if you’re looking for baking stuff, you might want to try the next aisle over?” The young lady who was also browsing the fruit mixes said as he kept mumbling to himself. “I’m about to head over there myself.” she said, punctuating this with a wave from the bag of mixed fruit she had picked up.
“Oh...thanks. Bread soda is hard to locate here.”
“Bread soda? It’s called baking soda here, probably why you can’t find it!”
“Oh. Right.” Shaking his head to himself on the question of “if it’s not called that here, how did she know that?” he wandered over to the aisle she had mentioned. Excellent! There was baking soda here! And parchment paper as well!
~~~~~
Humming, he set the kettle to boiling water for the tea, and set aside the tea bags for that as well.
It was a nicely calming process, working through the steps calmly and steadily.
-----
He wasn’t quite sure what Finn was doing, but whatever it was, it was causing him to think about things. Namely, how he got his energy.
He had tried to explain this a fair deal, but there was...they were not the same thing, at all, and miscommunication was to be expected. Bouncing around in someone’s head was bad enough. What made it worse was talking at cross lengths when you both theoretically were on the same page.
At least Finn (Finn. Finn finn Fergal ) understood that he was not a demon . It didn’t really matter that everyone else thought that (wait. Yes it did , it caused the energy incoming to be less. But there was still yet to be found a way around it. Finn was looking, bless his heart), at least his...vessel...host...comprended more of the situation (now. He did still feel a bit guilty about that, but there was nothing to be done for it, it went the way it had to go).
So. In his best estimation- Prior to finding Finn ( Fergal ), he was in a desert. Now, with Finn showing up, he found an oasis. But it was...hm.
An oasis where you could just reach the water with your hand, but only just barely dip it in. Certainly not drink freely from it, oh no no no. And then Finn (bless his heart) had gotten people to notice him. And suddenly, it was like he could almost cup a hand and get a little bit more water each time. Certainly not enough. Was it ever enough?
(There was a faint fear that if he suddenly got enough energy that he’d die from it, like as in refeeding syndrome. Too much, too fast) Faint rambling thoughts on the necessity of getting Finn to read more science articles and fleeting visions
And then, The Bálor Club. It did exactly nothing in regards to getting him worshipped, but it got the name out there and any little bit was helping right now. There was
He would never be
There would never be worshippers again. But
Potential? Finn...Fergal...certainly had it. And that ...that could be enough.
Explaining any of this to Finn though was, he thought, similar to Finn trying to explain his daily schedule to a cat . Not pointless, just very very difficult. They barely had a shared language!
Their motivations were different but there was some overlap, Buíochas le Dia. And that’s where he could start, in any explanations.
Fairly certain that Finn shared his thoughts on the shared potential at least (well, at least now. From what he read, it seemed that Finn might legitimately still be fucked up from the original meeting? How how odd . And concerning).
-----
Soon enough, the paltry collection of dried mixed fruit (and sugar, and vanilla, and salt...and tea…) were in a mixing bowl in the fridge, marinating for tomorrow.
He had a pounding headache again, which mostly meant, in his experience, that Bálor was thinking about something , but if he was going to stay asleep and think, he’d certainly take the quiet.
-----
Ah. He was now fairly certain as to what Finn was baking. Time flew when you had to conserve your energy (and despite having a vessel now, it was still terribly energy draining. On both of them) much of the time.
From studying Finn, he thought that Finn might actually think this ritual was merely that, a symbolic act. Not the physical thing that it was. It had no matter that he did, but was yet another sign of how hard it was to explain this to this...this Finn (his cat/pet/vessel/friend?). You can cross this line for it is merely a line. But made of salt, and no slug could ever hope to cross it, despite the fact that it could be painted for all that it matters to you (thinking of himself as a slug was odd, but appropriate with how much control he had currently).
Barmbrack . If Finn wished to use the modern term for it, sobeit (but hm. He’d have to tell him against that, it did seem to weaken it in ways Finn really did not seem to intend...but thankfully not quickly).
“Bálor.” Ah yes, onto the next step in this dance.
“Hm?”
“There will be bairín breac soon.” Oh! He had called it by the better name, he might not have to tell him after all! (Assumptions never help )
“I am... aware of you baking it.” Vaguely. It did explain why he had been thinking of water metaphors for things earlier, at the very least.
“Shall we have dinner tomorrow? On Samhain?” And Samhain and not Halloween. He really did have potential. He had chosen very well for a choice he barely had had at all.
“That would of course work for me. Don’t make me hand out candy this year.”
“Oh, certainly not. I have a much nicer costume I’d prefer to show off.” He smirked, which was entirely uncalled for.
“I am not a costume...and I am perfectly adequate if I was .”
----
It smelled lovely, actually. It was a shame it would help reinforce the boundaries between them, but...they were necessary, of course. Shame, shame. He’d regain his strength and and and
It didn’t matter. They worked quite well together. This was fine .
This was caused by Samhain and the breaking down of the boundaries and and and
He and Finn ate the barmbrack mostly in silence. It was part of their ritual, but not wholly required in general for it. It didn’t matter, what mattered what that Finn believed it was needed.
“You’re giving me a headache again.”
“I was not trying to do so. I think more rest is required.” Always .
“Hm. We’re expanding the Bálor club clothing line. Quite fancy.” He pointlessly waved a hand as though Bálor could see him from across the table and was not merely bouncing around inside his head. It was still oddly nice that Finn cared enough to do so.
“Very nice. I must say they could use an update.” Despite not having a physical body, he turned and looked at the barmbrack. “I also must say that while this is not bad , I prefer that which you make at home.”
“Naturally, because it is at home. We travel.”
“I am aware of this, just stating my opinion on the matter. If I must eat bairín breac then I’d prefer the stuff at home.” It was important that he consider it home. And explaining that to him was also frustrating. He was tied to the land almost as much as to his vessel, but Finn was not and how and why that was the case, he still didn’t understand. More reading. Always more reading.
“Well, I’ll see if we can make it home next year.”
“Thank you.” It was with slight regret that
he
had to sleep before
he
could see Finn’s reaction to being thanked.