Post by devilinthedetails on Dec 28, 2018 1:45:48 GMT 10
Title: For Auld Lang Syne
Rating: PG-13 for alcohol use
Prompt: Acquired Taste
Summary: For Evin, some Midwinter tastes are acquired ones.
Notes: Padrach haMinch was one of the Rider trainees at the same time as Evin and Miri so I couldn't resist writing a story with him in it since I low-key love the haMinch clan.
For Auld Lang Syne
“We can’t celebrate Midwinter without haggis,” proclaimed Padrach haMinch, placing what looked like animal innards proudly in the center of a large table in one of the many rooms that belonged to the haMinch clan in the Royal Palace where Padrach had invited Evin and Miri to welcome in the new year. In the past, Evin had heard quips about the haMinch clan being extensive and ancient enough to command their own wing of the palace like the Contes. Seeing firsthand the scope of territory the haMinch family claimed in the palace, Evin would be less inclined to dismiss these comments as wisecracks in the future.
“What is haggis?” Miri studied the unknown food with the same skepticism Evin felt.
“It’s sheep’s offal mixed with suet, oatmeal, and seasoning in a sheep’s stomach.” Padrach’s northern words made his explanation sound all the blunter.
“That’s nauseating.” Miri wrinkled her nose as Padrach passed heaping porcelain platters—probably more valuable than anything Evin had ever held in his life—of haggis to his guests.
“Ah, great to hear that it doesn’t just look like animal innards.” Evin decided that he didn’t have to try to be polite if Miri wasn’t going to be. She could hardly elbow him in the ribs for rudeness when she had been guilty of it herself. “It is animal innards.”
“It’s an acquired taste for those who aren’t born in the north.” Padrach shoveled sheep’s offal and stomach into his mouth as Evin’s intestines twisted. “You’ll never acquire a taste for haggis if you refuse to eat it.”
“What a pity that would be.” Miri, like Evin, hadn’t touched her haggis.
“I’ll stick to tilting back glasses of whiskey.” Evin grinned as he poured himself a glass of northern whiskey from the bottle in the middle of the table.
“That’s strong liquor, not for faint-hearted southerners,” Padrach warned him, but Evin ignored him and soon regretted it when his entire esophagus burned.
“That scorches the throat like fire,” Evin sputtered, shaking his head and seeing shooting stars. “Do you northerners have livers?”
“We do.” Padrach chuckled and helped himself to a glass of whiskey. “We just aren’t lily-livered like southerners.”
“Lily-livered must be your way of describing people who haven’t damaged their livers with your northern whiskey.” Miri took tentative sips of her whiskey.
“Cheers to see out the old year and greet the new.” Padrach clinked his glass against first Miri’s and then Evin’s before offering a toast Evin had never heard. “For auld lang syne, my friends.”
“I can’t understand your northern dialect.” Evin laughed, thinking with an internal eye roll that northerners spoke a language foreign as Yamani sometimes. “What are you saying?”
“A traditional Midwinter toast in the north.” Padrach smiled at Evin’s ignorance. “It literally means ‘for old long since,’ but we use it to say ‘days gone by’ or ‘old times’ sake.’”
“A perfect toast for Midwinter.” Miri’s cheeks had a warm glow from the candlelight and the whiskey.
“And friendship,” added Evin, feeling Miri’s radiance reflected in himself.
Rating: PG-13 for alcohol use
Prompt: Acquired Taste
Summary: For Evin, some Midwinter tastes are acquired ones.
Notes: Padrach haMinch was one of the Rider trainees at the same time as Evin and Miri so I couldn't resist writing a story with him in it since I low-key love the haMinch clan.
For Auld Lang Syne
“We can’t celebrate Midwinter without haggis,” proclaimed Padrach haMinch, placing what looked like animal innards proudly in the center of a large table in one of the many rooms that belonged to the haMinch clan in the Royal Palace where Padrach had invited Evin and Miri to welcome in the new year. In the past, Evin had heard quips about the haMinch clan being extensive and ancient enough to command their own wing of the palace like the Contes. Seeing firsthand the scope of territory the haMinch family claimed in the palace, Evin would be less inclined to dismiss these comments as wisecracks in the future.
“What is haggis?” Miri studied the unknown food with the same skepticism Evin felt.
“It’s sheep’s offal mixed with suet, oatmeal, and seasoning in a sheep’s stomach.” Padrach’s northern words made his explanation sound all the blunter.
“That’s nauseating.” Miri wrinkled her nose as Padrach passed heaping porcelain platters—probably more valuable than anything Evin had ever held in his life—of haggis to his guests.
“Ah, great to hear that it doesn’t just look like animal innards.” Evin decided that he didn’t have to try to be polite if Miri wasn’t going to be. She could hardly elbow him in the ribs for rudeness when she had been guilty of it herself. “It is animal innards.”
“It’s an acquired taste for those who aren’t born in the north.” Padrach shoveled sheep’s offal and stomach into his mouth as Evin’s intestines twisted. “You’ll never acquire a taste for haggis if you refuse to eat it.”
“What a pity that would be.” Miri, like Evin, hadn’t touched her haggis.
“I’ll stick to tilting back glasses of whiskey.” Evin grinned as he poured himself a glass of northern whiskey from the bottle in the middle of the table.
“That’s strong liquor, not for faint-hearted southerners,” Padrach warned him, but Evin ignored him and soon regretted it when his entire esophagus burned.
“That scorches the throat like fire,” Evin sputtered, shaking his head and seeing shooting stars. “Do you northerners have livers?”
“We do.” Padrach chuckled and helped himself to a glass of whiskey. “We just aren’t lily-livered like southerners.”
“Lily-livered must be your way of describing people who haven’t damaged their livers with your northern whiskey.” Miri took tentative sips of her whiskey.
“Cheers to see out the old year and greet the new.” Padrach clinked his glass against first Miri’s and then Evin’s before offering a toast Evin had never heard. “For auld lang syne, my friends.”
“I can’t understand your northern dialect.” Evin laughed, thinking with an internal eye roll that northerners spoke a language foreign as Yamani sometimes. “What are you saying?”
“A traditional Midwinter toast in the north.” Padrach smiled at Evin’s ignorance. “It literally means ‘for old long since,’ but we use it to say ‘days gone by’ or ‘old times’ sake.’”
“A perfect toast for Midwinter.” Miri’s cheeks had a warm glow from the candlelight and the whiskey.
“And friendship,” added Evin, feeling Miri’s radiance reflected in himself.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!