@scratchDoctor — #gore
The room is, I admit, disappointingly theatrical. You awoke, chained by the ankle to that iron radiator in the scullery of your hive. Though, we both admit it has never been host to an honest meal. The radiator is hissing with civic spite. The floor is tiled in a pattern that suggests grief. On the stove, centered over a ring of blue flame, is a dented iron pot full of boiling tallow. Boiling. It pops and spits with a greasy impatience, exhaling the rich, animal stink of rendered fat. The pot itself has been welded to the stovetop in four ugly seams, each bead of metal thick enough to survive tan...Read more
I have prided myself in my ability to provide hospitality as a host, butler, maintainer of all things, and so on for epochs. There has never been a point of existence in which I was the end-all be-all provider of all things comfort to the various beings within my orbit. Yet, in spite of my apparent pride in the services that I have always provided, there is a single known point of failure in my unending resume. However, it is a mar against my record I can not help but to wear more akin to a trophy than anything further. I have possessed a very peculiar tea set. It has existed longer than tea itself tr...Read more
