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People were fine sticking with the status quo, with what is set in stone.
Food Souls naturally flocked to other Food Souls that humans liked to call as ‘their group’. Like a Chocolate would naturally stick around a Coffee, a Milk hovering close by with a Black Tea right behind her. Where a Boston Lobster is, surely a pair of tofu twins, a Spicy Gluten and the rest of their gangly lot would gravitate towards him, with the added (mis)fortune of a Peking Duck dropping by or bound to the same Master Attendant. A Red Wine, Steak and Gingerbread? That is a foregone conclusion.
Borscht liked to think the phenomenon is true. Given the choice, she remained content to retain few connections outside of her ‘group’. Master Attendant didn’t press her on the matter, despite the boon it would be to befriend more of the Food Souls under their contract. The few that she did keep were… interesting, to say the least.
She sat in the shade of the trees in the early hours of the afternoon. A small group of Food Souls had ventured out of the compound to the riverside several minutes into the wilderness for some recreation. Whether that meant hunting some Fallen Angels or simply milling about was subjective to them. All that mattered was getting out for a while to enjoy the good weather while it lasted.
Someone sat beside her and she turned to see it was Cassata. He held a familiar looking wide brimmed hat in his hands.
“Resting?” She asked.
“A bit. Looks like there’s no need for me to keep a close eye on things here.” He answered. The two fell quiet afterwards, each in their own little bubble of thoughts and musings.
“You’re not jealous?”
She spared him an inquisitive glance, only mildly surprised at the question thrown at her. Borscht followed his gaze to a young man, head full of wheat blonde hair with a rat’s tail. Beside him pretending to be disinterested in whatever topic the blonde was animatedly gesturing about was a redhead she’s all too familiar with.
In another place, another timeline where there was no one else between them, perhaps she held his attention as much as Pizza does. Or, in another place and time, she would have never met him. She did not dismiss the idea of such when she overhears her Master Attendant musing about such what-ifs to Spaghetti, talking about them as if those what-ifs were real.
Can you believe it? Imagine it, a world where your stories are all seedlings of hope, trampled upon by fate because humanity is both beautiful and depraved all at once.
She watched him dip his head to the side, leaning in to listen to whatever the other young man had to say. She twiddled her thumbs, asking herself what reaction should she feel seeing that?
“I don’t know.” She answered aloud, “Should I be?” She did not mean to be cruel, but it can’t be helped if her words would be taken as such. Cassata… he’s a complicated fellow, with equally odd preferences. But she’s not one to judge.
“Didn’t you say that you wanted a quiet life?” He persisted in questioning, tone neutral. “I don’t doubt that being by him would make that difficult but…”
“But?”
“I feel like we’re going off the beaten path.” He finished, pursing his lips in a rare grimace. If there was any commonality between her Spaghetti and Cassata, it was their penchant to hide behind a mask and the inability to say what they truly wanted to convey. Though in this case, she understood what he was trying to say.
This interaction. This affection… the very existence of a large community of Food Souls groups co-existing and building connections that were unheard of…
She can’t explain it, but it feels like they’re all playing a dangerous game. Every day that passes, every moment she sees Spaghetti smile easily, when Pizza laughs openly and freely, when Cassata turns his protective gaze away to appreciate the other things in his world, when Cheese is surrounded by people she holds dear, when her girls interact with their crushes without fear of being maimed— maimed? Whatever gave her that idea?
Borscht hummed, twiddling her fingers on her lap again. “I understand. It’s like a niggling feeling, isn’t it?” It feels exhilarating, and yet terrifying at the same time. That any time something could take away this strange little spot of happiness they’ve carved out.
She isn’t sure if another Borscht out there shared the same happiness she has, nor if there was another luckier than she is now. But should she know what they have? Did she need to instill in herself unneeded doubt and jealousy? Just as the question of whether she should feel jealous that Spaghetti had chosen—
“Borscht!”
A flower crown is placed on her head, made of daisies and small wildflowers growing in the area. She looked up to a beaming Pizza, making brief eye contact before he turned to offer a similar crown to Cassata.
She looked past the two, towards the red headed man standing by the riverside with rolled up sleeves and no cloak in sight. It may be the trick of the light, but there was a trace of fondness in the gentle smirk playing on his lips.
—Ah.
Cassata whispered something to Pizza, who looked incredulous and hesitant for a moment, before a strange sort of impish determination overcame him and he bounded off in another direction. She didn’t think too much seeing Pizza, Haggis and Cheese barrel Spaghetti into the river moments later.
“I think,” she began, knowing Cassata could hear her. “That you’re right about feeling afraid that all this could disappear in a blink of an eye. It feels like we don’t deserve this, right? Like it’s too quiet and peaceful and it just rubs us the wrong way.”
She didn't wait for his answer and continued, “That’s why we have to remember this, and make it a reason to fight and keep it. A quiet… a good life can’t just be handed to me without a price. The world doesn’t work that way. Master Attendant gave us this space, and it’s our responsibility to safeguard it.”
Borscht reached out and squeezed his hand. She didn’t know if he liked it, but by the way he did not shake her off, she’ll take it as his acquiescence.
“I hope you’re right, Borscht.” He spoke at last, his one good eye staring off into the distance. “I really hope you’re right.”