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The sensation of taste was a fascinating one. Sweet, salty, bitter, sour, savory. Humans somehow thought that they could pare down this complex, curious sense into 5 simple categories. Yet, to experience it was to take in a wash of varied flavors all at once, no matter what was being consumed.
A piece of meat, suitably seasoned, could take on a taste that could be described as “spiced” or “herbal”, neither of which seemed to Angela to be something that could be so easily simplified. Ice cream was smooth and held a distinct taste of 'cream' underneath the sweetness that tempered the smoothness of vanilla. Could that be crammed into one of these categories which humans had created to make classification a simpler process? She doubted it.
Steamed vegetables, rich broths, flaky light pastry crusts, the firm bite of a fruit between the teeth that at once puckered the taste buds but left an enticing tingle that made one crave more.
A curious, varied array of flavors which only whetted both her curiosity and her palate to try more and more.
“You know that you can have more than one meal in a day, right?” Angela gave Roland a narrow look, though the intended sternness was somewhat foiled by the fact that her cheeks were presently crammed full of food. “I'm just saying! I can make you different things for different meals, Angela! You don't need to eat every flavor in existence for every meal. Pace yourself, y'know?”
Angela huffed (at least as much as her stuffed face would allow), and worked to chew down the rest of her food before properly addressing him.
“I'm fine, Roland. I understand what it means to feel full. I'm simply treating myself to a variety.” She motioned to her plate, piled high. “I've seen both you and Gebura consume at least this much in a given meal. I don't see why I couldn't.”
“Yeah. And Gebura and I have metabolisms and physical augments that would probably let us eat enough to literally burst a normal person's stomach,” Roland replied. “Look, I'm not saying you shouldn't eat as much as you like. Maybe just pace yourself a little more. Trust me, food tastes a lot better when you slow down to enjoy it.”
“The advice is acknowledged, Roland,” Angela said firmly, but with a finality that told him she would not be discussing this any further. “But I am becoming well aware of my own body. I will just continue to eat until I feel full. Believe me, I will not be hurting myself solely by eating.”
–
If this wasn't what it felt like to be dying, then Angela could only assume that dying could not compare to this feeling.
She couldn't even lie on her back for how sore that made her abdomen feel. Even her esophagus, though clear, still felt stuffed full when she did something as simple as swallow her own saliva. Her stomach roiled, and she had her eyes closed in an attempt to ground herself.
At the very least Roland had the good graces to refrain from an admittedly earned 'I told you so'.
“How are you feeling?” Roland sat down beside her on the bed, gingerly so as to not jostle her too much.
“Ill,” Angela replied tersely. Half from her bad mood, half because short words kept the nausea down
“Yeah, I can see why,” Roland sighed.
Angela turned her head into the pillow, burying it as much as she could. The darkness didn't exactly help since it wasn't a headache that was bothering her, but closing her eyes at least helped her feel like she was keeping everything closed up better. So much for knowing her own limits.
She felt a gentle sensation on her shoulder, the familiar touch of Roland's hand gently patting her.
“Listen, you know I'll make you whatever kind of food you want, basically whenever you want, right?” Roland spoke gently, but not overtly pityingly. It was a way that kept Angela from feeling condescended to even in this moment. He'd gotten good at that in the time they'd known each other. “You can take your time to enjoy these things. I like cooking, and that's not changing anytime soon.” He moved his hand from her shoulder to her distended stomach. Angela flinched a little, expecting it to jostle her uncomfortably. But instead it was... actually a little soothing. A gentle, circling motion that brought the first small relief to her since she'd curled herself up like this. “... And I'm not going anywhere, either. So just take care of yourself, alright? Learn your limits so that you can just enjoy what you eat.”
“... Okay,” Angela murmured at last. And Roland smiled warmly at the response.
“Want me to get you anything? Water? Maybe I could find a book with some stomach medicine.”
“In a bit... For now... Just sit with me?”
“Of course. Whatever helps, Angela.”