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“What is it with everyone?” Cleo grumbled, sitting back in her seat and turning the menu over in her hands, “Always! Never fails! You say, “meet us at the restaurant at six” and what happens? Six fifteen comes and goes and still, nobody!”
They were both sitting at an elegant long table, with seating for a half-dozen people. The restaurant was stylish, beads of crystals dangling from the ceiling and catching the light of the wall-mounted sconces. In the middle of the table, an elegant arrangement of flowers and candles illuminated their space, set with napkins and small plates for the appetizers.
A busboy came around with a tall jug of water, carefully topping up Keralis’s glass and looking at Cleo expectantly. When she nodded, he filled her glass to the rim.
Keralis chuckled sympathetically, reaching out and grabbing his drink. He swirled it, letting the ice clink against the crystal, and shook his head.
“They’ll be here. Impulse will come! He loves this place, you know.”
Cleo huffed.
“Joe better turn up soon or I’m breaking his jaw. Again. I put on my best wig for this.” She ran her fingers through the fashionable red updo, and Keralis smiled.
“Well, I think you look just beautiful. My beautiful Zombiecleo, out on the town with Papa K!” he said gently, gesturing at her- and then at himself.
Keralis was wearing full white tie and a tailcoat, immaculately tailored with a scarf in the breast pocket. He’d removed his tophat and placed it on the seat beside him, and his decorative silver cane was propped against the side of the table. The only note of discord was the bright blue bowtie he’d chosen to match his eyes. It was one of the few outfits he owned that actually had a properly-stitched opening in the back to allow his black, abyssal slit access to the air- most of his other shirts, he just took a knife and ripped a hole big enough for the slit and his wings. This outfit was different- made of a special material that repelled his ooze, while still looking stylish.
A waiter wandered over, and Cleo sat up primly, doing her best to look composed. Keralis continued his lazy slouch, elbows against the table and an easy smile on his face.
“Hello,” their zombie waiter growled through a rotted throat, “I’m Migo, and I’ll be taking care of you both tonight. Would you like to get started with our menu, or are you still waiting for some people?” as he stood there, he placed a pair of menus on the table- one embossed with grapes and the other embossed with a red drop.
Keralis hummed.
“Well, we’re waiting for a few friends…” he said, and Migo nodded.
“I’ll leave you be for a bit, then. Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks. Sorry, nobody else but us knows what being on time means.” Cleo groused, watching as her fellow zombie wandered away. She picked up the menu he’d placed in front of her, and gave it a look over.
Keralis cracked open his own menu and huffed.
“Cleo, he gave me the wine menu…” Keralis sighed.
“Oh, again? Sorry. Hang on, I’ll just decide on my drink…yeah, I think I got it. Here.”
Keralis shook his head and took the drinks menu from Cleo, flipping through it.
“Hmmm. Okay, I think…I think I want…is Tango coming?”
“Yeah, he’s coming.” Cleo said, checking her comm.
“Right, then I won’t have a Bloody Sunrise… alright, I think I know.” He closed the menu and slid it across the table.
Cleo glanced at her watch, a slim silver-and-steel number chosen specifically to pair perfectly with her dark blue evening dress. She’d done her makeup and painted her eyes fresh for the occasion, and Keralis took a second to admire her sparkling earrings. Held in place with staples, since Cleo’s earlobes had long since fallen off, but they were still lovely.
He opened his mouth to say as much, when a chair pulled out next to him with a loud screech.
“Sorry we’re late! Tango, I told you, man, we took the third right!”
“And was it the third right? No, it was the fourth!” Tango shot back, pulling out another chair to sit next to Keralis.
“I don’t know which way we went, to be honest.” Mumbo groused, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the end of the table.
Cleo leaned back and looked over the motley crew.
“That’s it? Nobody else? I thought Joe said he was coming!” she huffed, and Impulse shrugged.
“He checked the menu on the Intralink. The only thing they’ve got that’s safe today is fish.” Impulse said smoothly, taking a seat in his chair.
Cleo rolled her eyes, but her shoulders relaxed.
“Alright, fine. Don’t want him getting sick.” She said with a sigh, “Iskall’s coming, though?”
“Oh yeah. They love the fish here. I think I saw them with Ren? We got split up though. You know what the crowds around here are like…”
Keralis chuckled, and looked Impulse’s suit up and down. Black with yellow pinstripes and a yellow tie, done up in a simple schoolboy knot. Impulse had his hair combed back, and his twin horns glimmered with dozens of golden bangles. He settled into his chair carefully, stretching his batlike wings and sliding them in- he’d accentuated the yellow pustules on his wings with purple paint, done in elegant stripes. His long, dinosaur-esque tail was covered in golden bangles, and he carefully sat down to allow it to fall off the side.
Tango sat down opposite him, adjusting his bolero tie. He was wearing a more Western-themed getup, complete with a black leather vest overtop of a bright red dress shirt. Tango reeked of ash and gasoline, a sure sign he’d broken out his good cologne for the meal. He wasn’t wearing his usual fireproof gloves, instead wearing a white pair that covered his fingers that Keralis knew was made of asbestos fibre. Three teardrop earrings gleamed out of the top of his right ear, and Tango pulled up a seat, reaching up and sweeping his flaming hair back.
Impulse sighed and reached over, grabbing the long-discarded wine menu and handing it to Tango. He then grabbed the second menu and gave it a glance. At an irate cough from Mumbo, he handed it over.
“They’ve got the Thames vintage for you,” Impulse said with a smug grin.
Mumbo grunted, and ran a hand through his hair.
He’d swapped out his usual immaculate suit for an equally-immaculate tailcoat, paired expertly with a red bowtie, tied crisply and in a perfect knot. Red ruby cufflinks perfectly matched the ruby choker and ruby earrings he’d chosen, and Mumbo’s fangs were on full display, along with his secondary shredding teeth. He’d slicked his hair back, and Keralis knew that this particular tailcoat was tailored with two long wing slits, should he decide that it was time to let them loose.
“If I wanted to drink plastic pollution and smarm well past the sell-by date, I’d bite GB.” Mumbo snarked, and the other hermits chuckled.
Mumbo gave the second menu a careful look over, and then his comm buzzed. He held it up and snapped a pic of his menu, then reached over and took the wine menu from Tango and took a picture of that.
A few seconds later, it pinged twice, and he nodded.
“Okay, Iskall and Ren know what they want. They got a little sidetracked, they’re almost here.” Mumbo assured everyone, which was met by a round of nods.
Just then, Migo wandered back, clutching a small stack of menus in his hands.
“Hello- oh, I see we have some more people. Is this everyone, then?” he asked, and Keralis smiled.
“Two more coming, but I think they’re almost here.” He said evenly.
The waiter nodded, and began passing out the menus.
“Good, good. I’ll grab two more after this, then. Our soup of the day is chilled monkey brain. Now, sir…” he said, looking down at Keralis politely, “Today’s fresh food item is the grilled brown tr-“
Keralis held up a hand.
“Don’t worry,” he said, a grin that showed off far too many teeth, “I like it a bit…ripe.”
Migo chuckled.
“Ah. My apologies, sir. Will there be anyone at this table with that dietary restriction?”
Tango held up his hand, and Mumbo nodded.
“I’ll just have your fruit salad. With Piglin blood.” Tango said pleasantly, “But, like, don’t worry about that. We’ll order when the other two get here.”
“And my friend will definitely be having the trout.” Mumbo added, “Sorry to trouble you.”
“Not at all, not at all. I’ll let you all have a few minutes with the menus, and hopefully the rest of your party will arrive.” Migo said, walking away.
The front door of the restaurant banged open, and everyone looked up.
“Ren, dude, I’m telling you, if we’d just followed my directions-“
“Iskall, bro, it’s called “Fashionably Late.” It’s what we do!”
“”Fashionably Late” is code for “I have no sense of direction”.” Iskall groused, “Oh, hey Mumbo. Already getting started?”
“Yep. They’ve got grilled brown trout for you.” Mumbo said, sliding a menu into the empty seat next to him.
Iskall was wearing a floor-length emerald green ballgown sewn with hundreds of sequins and emeralds that shimmered with every step they took. They’d matched it with a set of green flats, barely visible as the intricate dress swished across the floor. It was tailored to fit their shape, falling straight down their chest- a custom piece that they’d been given as a gift. They had an emerald pendant around their neck on a silver chain, and several bracelets made from carved green circuit boards around their wrists. They carefully pulled out a seat next to Mumbo and sat down, making sure not to rip their dress.
“Looking lovely, dude.” Mumbo said fondly.
“Same to you. We all look great.” Iskall beamed.
“Hey, are we forgetting about someone?” Ren said, tapping his hooked wolf-head cane against the floor.
Ren was dressed like an English king of old, complete with a resplendent golden crown and long ermine robes, red velvet and speckled fur cuffs held together with golden rope and golden chains. His sunglasses were polished to a shine, and his tail had been brushed till it gleamed. He’d put his golden hoops in his right ear, and around his middle finger he wore a huge gaudy ring with the head of a creeper stamped into it.
Ren took his seat next to Tango, and grabbed at the menu.
“Oh, wow. Look at all this good stuff! Yeah, I know what I want. Anyone else need some time to decide, or are we good?”
“Let me see. Wow. Look at all the options I don’t have.” Iskall snarked, “I think I’ll have the…gosh, what a choice. The trout. They do really good fish here, at least.” They closed up their menu and slid it over to Mumbo.
Just then, the waiter wandered back.
“Ah, I see we have everyone. Can I start us all with some drinks?” he rasped.
Keralis nodded, and tapped his glass.
“I’ll have the house red, please.” He said smoothly, “Not the one on the wine menu.”
“I’ll take three of those, actually.” Mumbo said.
“I’ll have a…Pinot Grigio, actually.” Ren said, and Tango nodded.
“Yeah, the uh, house white for me.”
“Can I have, um…” Iskall’s eye unfocused as they checked their comm in their prosthetic eye, “Oh! Yeah, can I have a glass of your Cabernet Sauvignon?”
The waiter nodded.
“And the house red for everyone else?”
This was met with a round of nods.
“Good. Three glasses of the house red for the gentleman on the end. I’ll let you all have a few minutes with the menus while I fetch your drinks.” And with that, Migo walked off, briskly striding towards the bar.
“You’d think for such a high end place, they wouldn’t have numbered items on the menu,” Tango commented, taking a look at the other foodstuffs available. Ones he wouldn’t be eating.
“I think it’s because one of the owners sometimes has trouble with language,” Cleo said, “I talked to him once. He finds numbers a lot easier to handle, so. Numbered menus.”
“Makes sense, I guess. He the zombie-hybrid? What was his name again?” Tango asked.
“I think it was Richelou,” Keralis said, giving his water a swirl and taking a sip.
“He’s very nice.” Mumbo said gently, “I think Grian was actually gonna sign up for the Carrion Cup they run, but he had something up with his schedule, so he couldn’t make it.”
“It’s a really really good UHC,” Cleo confirmed, “I played once with False. There’s guys there that come back for match after match. It’s just really well-designed and the private server is super easy to get to. Honestly, it’s brilliant- hats off to these two for the whole idea.”
“I still think it’s a bit weird that it’s so popular. Everyone knows what it’s for, and we all know about the corpse persistence.” Iskall mused.
Cleo shrugged.
“It’s a damn good UHC, and zombies gotta eat. Better to get the corpses from people who consented fully than from jumping people in a dark alley. Besides, it’s not like anyone actually, you know, died.”
“Or you could just clone Joe.” Impulse snarked.
“It’s not my fault he’s delicious.” Cleo said, folding her arms.
Keralis just chuckled and licked his lips, tapping the topmost item on the menu.
“I don’t care anyway. It just means lots of yummy things to eat later.” he said with a smile.
A clattering of glasses had everyone looking up as Migo and a trailing waiter arrived with a huge tray of drinks.
“Right, the house reds…” he said, handing out glass after glass of identical cherry red liquid, “And my assistant has the wines for you…”
With a few clinks and taps, the glasses were all at their places, and Migo sat back expectantly, holding the drink tray in front of himself politely.
“Now, may I take your orders?” he asked, and Keralis nodded.
“I’m ready. We good?” he said, and the other hermits all nodded.
“Right. I’ll have this one, please.” He said brightly, tapping the item on the menu, “And can I get…some of this as a side?”
“Yes, certainly. Oh- I must warn all of you, all items in our kitchen may have come in contact with-“
“We know!” the Hermits all chorused, and Migo nodded.
“Very well. Items one and four. And for the rest of you?”
Around the table it went, only hesitating on Tango and Iskall.
“Yeah, so I’ll just have the fruit salad. Can I get some extra piglin blood on that?” Tango said with an easy smile, “Makes the sweetness of the fruits really pop.”
“Certainly, sir. And for yourself?” Migo said, and Iskall smiled.
“Just the trout. I can’t have anything else, so-“
“I’ll inform the chef, not to worry. We have a special section of the kitchen for preparing our fresh main of the day.”
With that, Migo gathered up the menus, and vanished towards the kitchens.
Keralis held up his wine glass.
“Here’s to all of us for coming here,” he said with a smile, “A tasty meal, good friends…”
“Here’s to nine seasons and nine seasons more!” Cleo added, holding her own glass up, and this was met with a cheer from the other Hermits. They all clinked glasses, and Keralis sat back in his chair, carefully sipping at his drink. Trying not to spill it on his crisp white shirt.
“Mmmm. Notes of cherry, I think…” Mumbo said, “This one’s good. You can really taste the joie de vivre in it.”
“Lucky. Mine tastes like a sweaty tryhard.” Impulse groused, slugging more of his back. When he opened his mouth again, all his teeth were stained red.
“Mine just tastes like grapes,” Iskall said, taking another sip and shuddering.
“Dude, I thought you hated wine?” Mumbo asked with concern.
“I do! Can’t go asking for a vodka on the rocks, now can I? The chef’ll spit in my food!”
“That’s just a myth.” Cleo said with a sigh, “When the waiter comes back, just order your damn vodka. It’s fine, Iskall.”
“If you’re sure,” they said dubiously.
“I’m sure.”
Keralis nodded, taking a sip of his own drink and closing his eyes. He could taste…life. Life in and among the overpowering taste of iron, joy and laughter and a competitive steel in the soul that had used this before him. It soaked into every drop, and Keralis took another delighted swig.
“Yeah, I like this.” He said with a grin.
“Okay, but like, you guys been checking the news?” Tango said, leaning forwards against the table.
Impulse groaned.
“No, dude, I didn’t say we could talk politics. I thought we said-“
“It’s not politics! But like, the new Census regulations! You checked ‘em? They’re scrapping online census gathering! They want us all to come in person to the Hub!”
“We’re in the hub now, my guy…” Ren pointed out, and Tango waved him off.
“Yeah, at like six at night in the undead district with the giant sunshield? This one’s right in the middle of the damn hub! It’ll be pandemonium! This is such a bad idea. Who thought of that?!”
“I blame the moderators.” Cleo sat up, taking another swig of her drink, “it’s usually their fault.”
“Someone wasn’t thinking too hard,” Keralis quipped, “Well, we see how it goes. I think after the first big crush of people against the doors they switch it back to something better. Like the old system. Worked good, I thought! Do your census from bed. I liked that.”
“Yeah, I’m getting a whiff of speciesism from that,” Impulse said, “I bet you they’re trying to crack down on self-reporting of species status. Why, I don’t know, but-“
“Now who’s getting political?” Mumbo said irately, “Can we get off this topic? I’m sure it’ll all work itself out.”
“Yeah! It all washes itself out.” Keralis agreed, and Cleo snorted up some of her drink.
There was an awkward pause, until finally Ren adjusted his sunglasses and opened his mouth.
“Anyone been checking the speedrun standings?” Ren asked, leaning forward, “I got like five hundred minits on Feinberg, I really think he’s gonna crack the sub three.”
“Five hundred minits? I got like ten thousand! Step up your game!” Keralis said, puffing his chest out and thumping it.
“That ain’t gambling, that’s just sound investing.” Iskall snarked, “Watch him get a sub two. Watch.”
“Then I will have a hundred thousand minits!” Keralis said proudly.
(A minit, for the curious, was a unit of currency exclusively used in the Hub. Players earned Minits for every minute they spent alive and on a world- older players, like Keralis, could accrue truly eye-watering bank balances.)
“Dude, how many minits do you even have?” Mumbo protested, and Keralis winked.
“Lots.” He said evenly, “I do a little…investing.”
“Ah-ah-ah! Don’t! Don’t say the I-word!” Cleo said, frantically waving her free hand, “We don’t say any of the I-words! Otherwise, it all stops working!
“What I-word? Investing?” Keralis said with a shiteating grin.
“Inverter?” Tango offered.
“Imbroglio?”
“Inflation?”
“ImpulseSV?”
“Iskall85?”
“Ixnay?”
“No,” Cleo snarked, “Imbeciles.”
Mumbo sniffed the air, and he grinned. His mouth started watering, and he turned to look at the kitchen.
“Something smells really good.” he said eagerly, and Iskall sniffed the air- and then immediately gagged.
“Something…smells awful.” They said, blinking the tears out of their eyes.
“No, no. I think our food’s coming.” Keralis said eagerly, grabbing his napkin and laying it across his lap.
“Cool. Do you think I could get a fork this time?” Tango asked, looking a little uncomfortable.
Half the table turned to stare at him.
“Not if you don’t want to insult the chef,” Cleo said, folding her arms.
“You can always just pick the bowl up, dude.” Iskall said, gesturing, “It counts, I think. I had a chicken salad last time, that’s how I did it.”
Tango shrugged. “Alright, sure.”
Just then, Migo emerged from the kitchens, holding up a huge platter covered in food. Behind him, another server trailed behind, carrying the rest of the group’s meals.
“Your mains are ready,” he said somewhat self-evidently, “For the sir, the rotten leg and human brain stew with onions and ramps…” he said, carefully placing an artful collection of disarticulated bits of zombie in front of Keralis, before reaching up and grabbing a small glass bowl full of glowing white spheres.
“And your cow souls as garnish, as requested….”
He turned to Cleo and nodded.
“For the madam, the human organ salad with fresh shoots and a garnish of muscle fibres,” he said, placing a large plate of fresh kidneys and lungs and other bits and pieces in front of Cleo, all soaking in a bloody stew.
“And the same for the sir, and here are your requested souls…” he said, placing an identical meal in front of Impulse, whose mouth immediately started watering at the sight of the small glass bowl full of cow souls.
“And the requested fruit salad medley. The chef also provided extra piglin blood so you can season to taste,” Migo said, carefully placing Tango’s elegant bowl of mixed fruits and blood in front of him. This was followed by a golden gravy boat full of glowing red liquid, and Tango’s eyes lit up greedily.
“And for yourself, we have our fresh-grilled brown trout with seasonal vegetables and our risotto,” he said, carefully handing Iskall their plate of decidedly normal food.
“and of course the muscle platter, drizzled in our in house barbecue sauce and with a side of house-cut potato fries,” he slid Ren a plate that was basically just a large pile of human leg muscles slathered in sauce, shooting the werewolf a knowing wink.
“And finally, the human heart platter, with B+ human blood and a bed of our fresh vein noodles.” He said, placing Mumbo’s red on red on red meal in front of him.
Migo stepped back, smiling pleasantly.
“Please enjoy. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Um, yes. May I please have a vodka on the rocks?” Iskall requested, and Migo nodded.
“Absolutely. If you require anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Bon Appetit!” he said, and walked away.
Keralis grinned and gestured at the meal.
“Well? Enjoy!” he said brightly.
Tango sighed and grabbed his bowl.
“Here we go again.” He muttered.
There was a loud popping noise as Mumbo unhinged his jaw, and that was pretty well the starting whistle for the resultant feeding frenzy.
Impulse dove at his meal, snatching up a kidney and ripping huge strips off it, swallowing them down with a series of snarls and moans. His eyes flashed over fully yellow, and the spots all across his body glowed a bright, sickly yellow. His tail slashed eagerly, nearly knocking his own chair over as he dove at his food.
Cleo faceplanted into her meal, only using her hands to rip the liver in half so she could swallow one chunk of it and then the other. Her makeup was ruined, running into her bloody stew, and she lunged back at the food, slurping at the horrid juices and growling in delight, eating like a starving dog.
Keralis snatched up a cow soul and tossed it in his mouth, biting down on it with a crunch and a flash of light that nearly blinded everyone at the table. Tiny black tendrils crawled out of Keralis’s slit, slithering up to the table and wrapping themselves around the chunks of human brain floating in the bloody sauce, reeling them back into the gaping hole and leaving a trail of bloody drops in their wake as the man himself snatched up the rotten leg and began ripping chunks off it like a wild animal.
At the head of the table, Mumbo popped an entire human heart into his mouth and bit down on it with a spray of blood that ran down his chin and onto his pressed shirt. He snarled and started grabbing fistfuls of bloody veins, shovelling them in frantically as though they’d be taken away if he didn’t eat quick enough.
Ren was digging all his claws into the table, jaw wide and head thrown back as he swallowed an entire thigh muscle whole, barbecue sauce splattering onto his finery as he let gravity and his own thrashing slide it down his throat.
Tango was chugging the contents of his salad bowl, enjoying the mix of fruits and blood, occasionally taking a break to have a breath of air or a sip of his wine before diving back down again. He was by far one of the cleanest people at the table, with only the odd splatter staining his gloves. He paused to take a few deep breaths, grabbing the gravy boat of piglin blood and chugging a bit of it. That reinvigorated him enough to attack the rest of his salad, a mournful whistle filling the air as his hair caught fire in excitement.
Iskall meanwhile was carefully tearing pieces off their fish with their bare hands, popping the reasonably-sized chunks in their mouth, and chewing on them thoughtfully, enjoying the varied flavours and tastes. They grabbed a head of asparagus and dragged it through the sauce, biting off the top and enjoying the lovely crunch of the well-grilled vegetables. Aside from the odd drop of viscera or cerebrospinal fluid, they were the cleanest hermit at the table by a country mile.
Mumbo grabbed his plate and held it to his lips, chugging down the remaining slurry of blood and veins and pieces of circulatory system. The red stain soaked into his moustache, trickling down the sides of his face, splattering onto his perfectly pressed shirt.
And he came up with a gasp, panting for air, his eyes glowing a dark, happy red. He set his plate down with a clink and sat back in his chair, purring contentedly.
Keralis was chewing on the last of his cow souls with a delighted smile on his face, horrible rotten brown stains splattered all down the front of his lovely suit. Impulse was munching on a spleen, enjoying the last few glowing bites from the soul he’d cracked across it for a garnish.
Cleo came up after licking the last few drops of brain fluid off her plate, face completely covered in viscera and splatters all across her clothing. She carefully wiped her face off with her linen napkin, taking the last of her green makeup with it, and smiled contentedly.
“Good food, right?” Iskall said, nibbling at one of their potatoes. The fish was mostly gone, except for the scales and the tail.
“Yeah. Yeah. Damn this place has good food. I’m stuffed.” Impulse said, sitting back in his chair.
“Mmmm.” Mumbo said, eyes fluttering closed- the picture of a happily-engorged vampire.
“Okay, uh. So, is that a no on dessert?” Cleo asked.
“So full. No more food.” Keralis grunted, “Maybe a coffee….”
“Coffee sounds good.” Impulse sighed, “Man, I haven’t been this full in ages. Feels really good.”
“Real food’s better than cooked steaks.” Keralis agreed.
“Speak for yourself. I think golden carrots are delicious.” Iskall snarked.
“Golden carrots give me…really bad indigestion.” Mumbo grumbled, “Made last season hell, I’ll tell you that much.”
“I still have no idea how you lasted that long without any blood.” Iskall said, shaking their head.
“…with great difficulty.” Mumbo said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.
Migo came around a moment later, standing at the head of the table.
“Ah, I see you loved it. Can I get you anything else? Dessert? Coffee? We have blood ice cream as tonight’s special, and a sugar-free meatloaf with imitation chocolate as our dessert special….”
“I think we’ll just have some coffee.” Keralis said, blinking awake.
“An’ tea.” Mumbo grunted, “Thanks.”
“Very well. And anything else?”
“I think we’re good for the bill,” Keralis said, “I’ll cover it.”
“Very well. I’ll have that brought over. Thank you all so much.” Migo said fondly, “I’ll pass your complements along to the chef.”
He lingered on Iskall’s clean dress for a moment, and then scurried away.
“I think we should do this more often.” Keralis said.
“I hear that, K-man. But Iskall, dude…you gotta work on your table manners.” Ren said, folding his arms as blood dripped off his chin.