William enjoyed the attention, slowly coming out of his shyness around the people as the day went on. Yes, obviously the nap had ended at some point during the long trek. "Navu seems very special, I'm glad she has a good friend." He didn't see pets as property, even if they technically were. Haraka saw himself more like a parent to William, which was why he planned to not let anything bad happen to the clam. Well, bad things would happen eventually, the mixed blood just wasn't open to the idea of it happening while the creature was a baby, or at least as long as he can help it. The stop for the night was expected, even if the half demon wanted to keep going for a bit longer. It looked like Ishtar had watching out for scavenging animals covered, so Omaras picked a spot then started to set up. A compact metal heater with an old and simple design. The fuel for it were cylinders made of wax, animal fat, and oil. It was easy to put in the small round metal heater, fitting in the upper half. The lower half was just flat metal that had enough distance from the top to keep from heating up. The design was small, simple, old, and effective. The top had more than enough space for the well sized clay pot placed on top. It didn't look like anything modern, a red clay pot that had an autumn forest design painted on. It showed clear signs of expert hand craftsmanship, of being manually made, painted, glazed, and baked.
He made a piece of garlic and an onion, mincing both with his talons and letting the pieces fall to the bottom of the pot. While not needed, he added a small bit of fresh butter to add some glorious flavor to the stew base. A different compact heater was placed down, fueled, then lit. While that heated, haraka proceeded to add baking power, eggs, and butter to a bowl. After that? He made grains of wheat then took out a small grinder. This would be a good distraction, grinding the flower. Still, he knew he had to answer. One guy whos lived too long to the other, right? "In the bronze age I was born in a country that was a land of ice. It used to be a land lived on only by ice dragons, but they allowed others to move onto the land. Four people who became known as Gods worked and created a spell to keep the land from melting. It was fueled by magic from those four people. DezLovaas was our god of Stability and Earth. HahdrimAl was our god of the sun and riddles. GliiwrWelun was out goddess of the moon and culture, and GulBekif was our fallen goddess of ocean and medicine." He finished making the flower, mixing it in the bowl after. It was time to mix good! Make this nice biscuit dough for frying. "I am pretty sure they were given those titles for the deeds they have done, since I can't deny they existed at some point. To be a child of a god meant your magic originated as a side effect as being born within the country, effected by the spell created by those four people.
If you were deeper connected than it would effect your genetics or magic, but that's normally it. For children of GulBekif like me? We had the possibility of being born with a hole in our soul and never having a chance to ever rise pass middle class, if we were lucky enough to even make it that far." He finished mixing the dough, mixing the contents of the pot a bit with a wooden spoon that he had quickly created. After that he made and chopped up some seasoning, then some minced celery, minced carrot, and potato. "I'm a child of GulBekif, one of many that used to exist in that country. It never meant anything to me outside of making it more possible that people would look at me as something dangerous... So I did my best to be good, well as best as a curious child can be when they want to be a doctor and their mother was a doctor. My blood parents were killers, but I was raised for the first years of my life by a wonderful doctor who was the best in the world t that time. Doctor Fennos Omaras! I got my last name from her, she named me Haraka for how quickly I won her heart. I'm half of a type of demon that these days? only lives in hell, a deep sea mantis shrimp demon. My other half is ice dragon. When I was eight and a half, a group walked into town." Was there anything to do with his hands right now? He grabbed out a clay pan, putting it on the open heater. After that? A little butter, spread it... and... that was it. Damn. Well, the story must go on.
"They used my as bait to lure everyone in town over to them. The only one that had been fancy there was my grandmother, but she had picked me over that sort of life way before this event. Still, nobody wanted to abandon the sweet quiet well behaved kid. Everyone in town thought of each other as family... and they all died slow horrible deaths, some were eaten alive, others eaten at death. Every single building burned, the ground was coated in red, the skies were clouded in grey from the smoke of the fires. I was kept as bait to lure in those who didn't want to see a child suffer, or simply felt a kinship with me due to also being stuck in the lower ladders of life. For half of a year everything was pain, screams, fire... They only killed for pleasure. The reason I didn't try to die? The would have just found a new 'bait', it wouldn't have solved anything. But.. I did develop my magic early, likely due to..." He paused, mixing the stew a bit. After that? He added water to the stew, watching everything sizzle a bit before... "Stress. I was in survival mode that entire year, probably the only thing that kept me from running away from everything through death. The first magic that developed was ice, but I used it to attack my soul that.. was already in a poor state. I removed a large part that more easily allowed communication and self expression, then tricked them into believing I felt nothing. This made me poor bait... and they became disinterested on continuing the murder spree."
He started filling each biscuit with some seasoning and a bit of cheese. After that? Haraka started buttering each one. "it seemed less fun to them if that was what happened to the 'bait'. So... that's how a none year old me had tricked a deadly group of murders who took down armies, dragons, and everything else that made the country that couldn't flee. Those who survived the slaughter thanked me, but also looked at me with pity. I was seen as a savior, but also as someone who had nothing in any sort of sense. My country no longer had a population of people, the spell broke, along with the continents ice. Everything sunk to the bottom of the ocean." Some bacon was placed onto the pan, since... the butter wouldn't last forever and the pan needed something to cook. Also, bacon fat would be good for the stew and the biscuits. "I worked as a waiter, then a bartender, eventually a cook as well. Haraka Omaras... waited for old age to kick in, to vanish with the generation of survivors that he was part of. Instead? I outlived every survivor, have crawled over corpses to escape dangerous situations, have hid in thick fabrics and dark places to avoid times of disease and fear caused madness taking me... I used to wonder and think many reasons for why I wouldn't age and die, but that was during a time where it was hard to see any light. I would always move, just in case that group still existed."
He added some corn, green squash, and eggplant to the stew pot, all chopped by his nails. "At that time when I was a child, it sounded it, it felt like... They were going to experiment on me if I hadn't tricked them. After they had moved on, nobody has seen the group. I don't know what they are waiting for or why, or if they had just dug so deep in the dark that I can't find them so easy." He flipped the bacon over. "They are why I moved around so much, why it took so long for me to gather the courage to stop running and start learning magic. Every time I thought of doing it... it felt like I was directly challenging them. The memories of what they were capable of doing as never left my mind. That nightmare has never left... the screams, the blood, the smoke and fire... Why am I still alive? Anyone I could have gotten any answers from are all dead now. Who am I going to ask, the dead?" It was the first time he had shared all of these details fully. Maybe its because there was a connection felt in the thought of someone else possibly suffering a similar fate. A strange bitter pained laughter started coming out, his quiet and soft voice being a bit less quiet in such things. His eyes begun to leak... and he removed the bacon from the pan to put on the biscuits. The dough let out a satisfying sizzle, the bacon being quickly broken up then tossed into the stew. These sort of simple tasks, it felt so relaxing.
It was so easy to melt into them. The simple nature of the tasks made it easier to distract himself in it. It was easier to not think about the pain that came with everything, how much it hurt to experience all that, awaiting a death that never came, running from people who he knew likely had an easier time search for him than he did in finding them. Running and being scared was exhausting, but so was holding onto everything. Answers? He had none of those. "Sorry that was a bit long..." The laughter slowly died down, but the tears still remained. They weren't going to stop so easily, though... William poking at his face with his foot definitely made them stop. He pat the tiny demonic clam, the creature deciding that Omaras face was its spot for now. "so.. Ishtar, how are you still alive?"
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