A Fae, A Faun and a Human

[FennWenn]

Fenn liked food.

Fenn liked it when there was lots of food.

Deep in the dining hall of Philomel’s vessel, there was indeed lots of food. The table was heaped high with dishes; there were platters of fowl stuffed with nuts, countless cheeses, breads, preserved fruits, vegetables, and even some condiments for them. The bowls that once held honey were all depleted by now though. Most of the platters closest to Fenn were depleted, actually, and only growing moreso. Every so often, he would sliiide a piece of gravy-slathered meat underneath the table. Daugi’s wide, toothy maw would gratefully claim the offering for her own. She was slowly getting a taste for human food. Oops.

Veridian watched in his way of wordless judgement. Thankfully, he was doing marginally better when compared to before. Still limping, still looking miserable and semi-bald, but not whimpering in agony. The captain lady — who had gruffly introduced herself as Mav — had gotten a few other ladies on the ship to take a look at him earlier, a little before she’d sternly sent Fenn to get a hot bath. Apparently, no-one appreciated the fine layer of dirt and mud-spatter that he’d accumulated over the past few months. Pffft. It wasn’t as if he smelled or anything. Probably.

That was okay with the boy though. It had been a very bubbly bath, and warm enough him to not become one big block of ice. His clothes had been washed too. They smelled like flowers.

Speaking of that bath though…

Veridian had taken an odd interest in Fenn’s wrists and ankles. He’d been snatching glances and discrete sniffs of blackened cuff-patches ever since the bubbly-warm bath. Whenever he caught the fox investigating, it sent big alarm bell’s clanging in the boy’s head. So, he hid them from sight in the folds of his cloak very carefully now. Nosy vulpine; that was Fenn’s business, and Fenn’s alone.

Captain Mav the Mighty sat a little ways off from Fenn’s spot at the table. She seemed to be watching over him; whether it was out of desire to protect him, or to protect everything else from him, the fae wasn’t certain. “You eat like a wild boar,” she observed. “How you fit all that in you, I can’t imagine.”

He grinned from ear to ear (honestly not knowing either) and crammed another buttery roll into his mouth.

It was good that the boat wasn't much in motion yet; sea travel made him sick as a dog. There was a gentle swaying, but it bothered Fenn minimally in the moment. An unease in the pit of his gut at the most. Were it to get too tumultuous, he was going to have to find an open window and hand over his lunch to the salty waves.

Which was funny, he thought. Normally one would get food from the sea, not give the sea the food they already had.

Fenn was pretty sure that, aside from imminent danger, uncontrollable retching was the only way anyone was going to get their hands on his meal.

As the fae pondered this, Veridian caught his attention. The fox yipped, gracefully clambered onto the table, and breathed a warm fog on the polished wood. He quickly dragged his paw across it to spell something out. Like before, he imitated the choppy, capitalized way Fenn wrote.

PHILOMEL WILL ARRIVE SOON.

Fenn blinked at the writing as it faded and gave an unconcerned shrug in return. Fine with him! Whatever questions she had for him, he was willing enough to give answers. The boy’s amicability was often directly proportional to his state of comfort. Free food and a hot bath had made him very comfortable at the time being…