Chương 63: Vol 1. The Long Quest for Brisket: Part 11

Tahir was sitting at the desk provided to him in the guest chambers, his legs dangling as he kicked his feet to and fro. He rested one paw on his cheek, and in the other was a quill that had begun to fray. Around him was crumpled-up parchment, and the one in front of him had multiple scratched-out lines on its surface. He had been trying to think of something to write for the past few hours but was getting horrible writer's block. What could he write about? His ears twitched.

Somewhere beyond his door, he heard the pitter-patter of servants passing through, presumably wheeling a cart, if he was right about what that rattling noise was. He looked around. He saw the sun beginning to set in his window, sinking into a nearby lake, its orange rays spilling across its reflective surface. Perhaps that? No, he wasn't finding nature to be his muse now. Muse… An image flashed through his mind: rough hands beneath the firelight, highlighting sinewy forearms. Should he…

His tail curled slightly around the leg of his chair. His breathing staggered somewhat. His heart thumped against his chest. No, he thought, no, no, those were one-off thoughts; don't think of them again. And besides, that thought he just had? Meant nothing! They were simply arms. Perfectly ordinary arms. Well… rather... very large arms, admittedly—no, no, no! He click-click-clacked a claw against the desk, continuing to rack his brain for a topic. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

Ultimately, he decided it was best to try and do a free writing session, trying his best to fit the words within iambic parameters. Closing his eyes and taking a big breath through his nose, he grabbed a new piece of parchment paper, put it in front of him, then dipped his quill in the ink. A tiny droplet gathered at the nib, then, like a cannonball, fell downwards and blew ebony across the paper, creating a blot on the fresh parchment. Tahir stared at the blot. His ears flattened.

"Wonderful," he mouthed. He moved to a clean portion of the page and began to write: And for it was he, O wondrous soul most kind, A kindred spirit sent to comfort me; To one so young, so feeble as am I, The son of Lady Zahra Orien, Most vile is she, whose heart knows naught of grace, A woman whom the demons claim as their own, Her mortal flesh the vessel of their will, That they might plague this poor and gentle prince. Tahir leaned back and examined the verse.

His lips moved silently as he counted each of the syllables and beats, one claw tapping against the edge of the desk. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. His ears perked. Acceptable. Perhaps not good, but it was structurally sound, for the most part. Tahir dipped his quill in the ink once more. And for it was thou, the most wondrous, who had arrived to me from the far-off His paw quivered. As he continued to write, his verse began to break its form, becoming less and less stringent, until it was practically free verse.

land of Texas—oh that mysterious place...................................... ---------… --.. -. -. -. ----. --. --. -. -----. -. And it was thou who had saved me, Who had embraced me like a mother does a young cub, And it was in thy arms—your oh-so-wondrous arms, Tahir swallowed. His quill hovered. That I felt truly…… And it ….

Oh, most wondrous, I wish for you to put your wrap me with aasdf jjkg k0ooofg ksa[djfk opl00o90-=i45rik for you to put your gogg njksjdfkjg Wrap me with your sinewy appendages, To pull me closer towards your ample bosom, His ears and cheeks were becoming painfully warm. So that I may smell your musky scent as you tighten them around me, Tahir stopped. He stared at what he had written. Bad thoughts. No good thoughts. Thoughts that he should not be thinking. His pupils widened. He should scratch that out. He did not scratch that out. And as we do so, You gently flip me over, Pull over my garments, And….. -----….. ----….. His paw was quivering so much that his lettering was becoming incomprehensible. Words crowded one another. Some of the letters were twice the size of the ones preceding them. I need you…… I need you…… Oh, good Seroth, I want— No I wish— No I NEED I need need need need need Need you, Oh. I need you-----------------------__________ Tahir jolted as he heard the door open, so violently that his knee struck the underside of the desk. He swiftly grabbed the parchment and slid it under his butt." Oh, Sir Christian," he said choppily." I was not expecting you. I was … doing some creative arts." Morton looked around at the mess on the table." What, were you tryna make paper airplanes or somethin'?"" I do not know what that is." Morton smirked. He went over to the table and grabbed a piece of parchment, moulding and shaping it until it was an odd V shape. He chucked it. It glided through the air gently before coming to a stop on the bed. Stolen novel; please report." Back in Texas, we used to have flyin' machines. That's where it gets that name from."" I … see," Tahir said weakly." Yeah, haven't seen a real airplane in a long time though. The fuel for it is hella rare this day and age." Tahir was partially listening, partially in his own thoughts." Kid?" Morton asked." Huh, oh, yeah, that is rather fascinating, Sir Christian." Morton chuckled." Anyway, I came in because it's our last day here, and Korra apparently did somethin' real special. Come on, let's go see."" You go ahead; I will be there in a moment," Tahir said. Morton shrugged. As Morton walked out, Tahir watched him go, his gaze drifting downward. The human's rump shifted with each lazy sway of his hips. Tahir stared. His ears slowly flattened." Oh, for the love of Seroth," he whispered to himself. The door clicked shut; silence filled the room. Tahir remained perfectly still for a moment while, beneath him, the parchment crinkled. Tears welled in his eyes. He grabbed the piece of parchment from under his own rump and reread what he had written, and as he did so, his paws tightened around the fragile paper. He snarled, huffing and puffing. In a fit of pique, he tore the parchment into shreds, the bits flying around him. Kindred arms need thou The little pieces of his self-confession surrounded his paws. Then he fell to his knees, a sob escaping him. Why, he thought, why, why, why… His claws tightened against his temples. Why was the world like this? Why did he need to marry this person at Veyrath? Why could he not marry who he truly wanted to? Why, why, why! And most importantly: Why weren't you born a woman? Morton made his way over to the dining room, whistling. Waiting for him was Lady Korra, her sinewy arms crossed; she gave an ear flick." Good evening, Sir Christian," she said mirthfully." Evenin' to you too, miss," Morton said with a tip of his hat." Are you ready for that surprise?"" Pfft, nothin' ever surprises me," Morton scoffed." We will see about that," Korra said with a smirk. Tahir was trailing a little way behind Morton." It seems as though everyone is here. Let us begin, then.""' Deed," Morton agreed. Morton sat down at the table, with a sheepish Tahir beside him and Korra and her husband on the other side. Servants came. In front of Tahir and Kurik, they set down two wine glasses, and aged red wine was poured into them. In front of Morton and Korra, two gargantuan, somewhat opaque glass mugs thumped down, and a large helping of beer was poured in." Holy," Morton said, inspecting the beer. It had a nice foamy head, and the colour of the drink itself was a pale bright gold, like straw under the sun. He took a large swig, then thumped his glass down." You Kharani sure know how to make a good damn beer."" I have actually never really had beer, but you did say it was typically your people's preferred drink."" Damn right it is!"" Looks like the surprise is here."" Aight, let's see what you came up with."" So, you know how I asked you about traditional foods from Texas." Morton's heart skipped a beat. Korra flicked her ears." Ain't no way—" Silver platters were placed in front of everyone, and when their lids were taken off, an amazing, woody aroma hit Morton." Oh… sweet baby Jesus," he muttered in pure awe. In front of him… was it really? In front of him was a slice of brisket—no spices other than salt and pepper, and lots of both, some of the crystals still visible on the surface. The bark was a dark mahogany. Morton pressed a fork against it. It was firm but neither hard nor burnt. There was a distinct pink ring just beneath the dark bark, showing just where the smoke had penetrated the meat." Well?" Korra said." You first." Morton, without hesitation, cut into it. It was tender, breaking apart with little effort, and, posthaste, Morton popped a bit into his mouth. He stopped chewing. For the briefest of moments, there was no Seran estate. No Avion. No Kharani. No ethereal being sending him on a grand quest. No neo-Nazis. No wasteland. No spending countless nights scavenging the remains of his once-beautiful home for the little supplies left. No civil war. All there was was a hot Texas evening. Smoke was billowing from an old, rickety smoker that had been passed on through generations. His momma was inside, cutting up veggies for the salad, while his daddy sat next to the smoker in a lawn chair, a beer in hand. Morton swallowed. Christ. In that moment, his life was complete. He could die and go to heaven. It was everything it was supposed to be: tender, juicy, firm but not hard… this was Texas smoked brisket." Well?" Korra asked." Is it to your satisfaction?" Morton cleared his throat and rubbed his nose with the back of one hand." Are you kidding me?" Morton said." This is just like what Momma used to make! Kid, you got to try it." Tahir took a bite. His ears flicked." That is quite palatable on the tongue… I do not mind it."" Heh, that is a compliment of the highest regard comin' from him." Korra took a bite." I am not someone of high taste, but that is quite good." Kurik took a bite." Oooh, that is interesting." Korra leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. There was a smug curl at the corner of her muzzle. As they continued to eat, Morton said:"Get the people who made this over here!" Korra snorted." Very well." A few moments later, three servants entered. They lined up uncertainly before the table, paws folded, ears angled back as if they were about to be yelled at rather than praised. Morton pushed himself out of his chair." All right, which one of ya' made this?" The three exchanged glances." We all did, Sir Christian," Tavi said. Tears welled in Morton's eyes." Well, I tell ya what—you three girls damn near brought Texas here tonight—the Texas of my childhood." The servants' ears perked." We ain't got time or resources to cook brisket no more. Hell, haven't for thirty years now. I don't know how y'all managed to do it, but…" His voice softened." This was a real treat; I don't know how I will ever repay ya'." Tavi smiled." You have already done more than enough, Sir Christian." Her smile trembled slightly." Thank you… for everything." The craftswoman looked at the smoker sitting in her backyard. What was she going to do with it now? She had gotten a hefty sum of money from House Seran to build it, but now it was just sitting on her property. Maybe…" Turis?" a masculine voice called out. She turned her head around. It was Kurva, her neighbour's husband, wearing a beautiful, flowing dress." Oh, hey Kurva," Turis said." I was just wondering if I could buy a new oven from you. Oh, our current one is so old and hard to cook with." Turis's ears perked." As a matter of fact, I can give you one for free."" Oh?" Kurva said with his head cocked." Really?"" Yep!" She slapped the smoker." Let me introduce you to the latest and greatest of TEXAN technology."" T—Texan?"" Yep. Some elf tribe or whatever. A guest is staying at the Seran estate, and they needed me to build this amazing oven for them. Sadly, they only needed it for one use."" Oh, well, if the royals asked you to build it…" Kurva said." How does it work? I do not think I have ever seen an oven like this."" You put fire in the bottom, and the smoke cooks the meat up here."" That seems awfully inefficient."" Yeah, but I guess this is how the husbands of Texas cook their food."" Well… I suppose it would be worth taking; it is free, after all."" Great!"" Just… how are we going to get this to my house?" Turis's ears dropped. And so, for the next four hours, she and Kurva's wife pushed the smoker towards the house next to Turis's shop.