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mermaidchan05 · 2 months

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Vesuvia Weekly: Putting It Together

CHOO CHOO ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN

For @vesuviaweekly 's "cooking class" event. The prompt made me think of Asra teaching the Apprentice to cook after they first woke up, which led to... well, all of this XD

Approx. 2600 words.

Featured characters: Asra and my OC Meleia (she/her), with important appearances by Faust and the stove salamander.

TW for panic attacks and flashbacks. But there IS a happy ending, and the flashback doesn't last too long.

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It was amazing, really, how the smallest things had a way of leaving the biggest impact.

After Meleia woke up with no memories and very little control over her new body, Asra was forced to take things one step at a time. They both were. It always started so simple, a few shaky steps here and there, a few words that Asra recognized… but every change was important. And it all added up amazingly quickly. Meleia was doing so well now.

True, Meleia still had her struggles. Crowds were debilitatingly overwhelming, she didn’t quite have the strength for going out on her own yet, and there was still a bit of a language barrier. But so, so much progress had been made.

The next step was working on meals. Meleia was well enough now to start cooking on her own instead of relying on Asra. He had to admit, he was proud.

And though he would never admit it, he was decidedly nervous.

For their first official cooking lesson, they were starting with a simple dish. Meleia loved mushrooms. And they had plenty of rice around. So fried mushroom rice it was. Asra hadn’t made anything like this in a while, and as far as he knew, Meleia had never made anything like it, even in her previous life. But it seemed a safe place to start. It was hard to mess up just throwing things together and heating them up.

Not impossible, as Asra had proven many times over. But difficult enough to make him assume they were safe.

But, naturally, got off to a rocky start. And not due to any fault of Meleia’s or Asra’s. The stove salamander was simply refusing to cooperate.

Asra leaned closer to the grate. “Come on, little one… we really need your help.”

The stove salamander pouted at Asra, then deliberately turned his back on him. Asra sighed.

Meleia put a hand on his shoulder. Asra carefully stood up, making sure not to shake her away.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

He half expected Meleia to need help with something. Or for her to need some support in standing up. It was still hard for her to be on her feet for long periods of time…

But she stood tall, more than tall enough for Faust to balance happily across her shoulders. And she was smiling. She quickly let go of Asra’s shoulder and nodded towards the grate.

“I… can help,” she said, only slightly haltingly. “Let me try.”

Asra couldn’t help but beam in pride. “Of course.”

He stepped out of the way, allowing Meleia to crouch down so she was right near the stove salamander. And she started talking to the little magical creature, her tone soft and gentle. She was speaking a language that Asra still didn’t recognize, even after all this time.

From the very first time she woke up, Meleia had understood Asra perfectly. But in yet another unexpected side effect of getting an entirely new body, she had apparently fallen back into whatever her native language was. She was still learning how to speak the common language of Vesuvia out loud, and Asra had only managed to pick up a couple of her unfamiliar words. But they understood each other.

And clearly, the stove salamander understood her as well as he understood anybody. Meleia kept gently coaxing him. The salamander was clearly a little grumpy about something. But he wasn’t immune to Meleia’s charms. In moments, the salamander was carefully stepping into Meleia’s offered hands.

She lifted the stove salamander up closer to her eye level, laughing fondly. Asra’s heart thudded. He loved that sound. Always had. And she looked so adorable cooing at the salamander. Even more so when he pressed his sooty little nose against her own. Multiple times. The aftermath almost made her look like she had a few extra freckles.

Then Faust tilted her head. The stove salamander looked back at her. And Faust twisted so she was looking at Asra.

Messy stove, Faust reported.

Asra flushed a bit. “Ah… I must have forgotten to dust out the stove again…”

Silly Asra, said Faust.

“Right. Silly Asra.” Asra managed another little smile.

It was far from a simple case of “silly Asra.” Asra hated cleaning the soot out of the stove. He didn’t enjoy dusting, either. The dust and soot all over his hands… it brought back unpleasant memories.

But Meleia didn’t need to know that. So he forged on.

“You keep holding him, alright?” he said, keeping his smile pasted on. “I’ll clean up.”

“Thank you,” said Meleia, beaming at Asra.

Asra’s heart thudded. “Thank you” was one of the first additions to her vocabulary after she started picking up the common language of Vesuvia. And Asra was always moved when he heard it.

She was really growing in strides. And that made everything worth it.

Asra cleaned up as quickly as he could. Meleia was very happy to hold onto the stove salamander. She laughed when he scurried across her palms in little circles, and kept chatting to him in her native language. Asra listened as he worked, focusing on the wonderful sound of her voice instead of the horrible feeling of ash on his fingers.

The moment he was done, Asra immediately washed his hands. He couldn’t even allow himself a little sigh of relief. He had to smile for Meleia’s sake.

“There we are,” he said. “All set. Are we ready to get started?”

Meleia eagerly nodded.

At first, everything went smoothly. The stove salamander settled into his newly-cleaned spot and got a fire started. Meleia diligently followed Asra’s instructions. And it was rather nice, working close together in the cozy kitchen. It almost reminded Asra of the way things had been before.

But no. He couldn’t allow himself to think about that. Meleia deserved to have a choice in whom she spent time with. Just like she deserved to choose her preferred food.

For as long as he had known her, Meleia had never eaten any meat, though cheese and butter and things like that were fine. As far as he knew, there was no medical reason for it. Just a matter of preference. So he had carefully introduced the idea of making a new choice when she first woke up.

She’d stuck with her traditional preferences. Asra rather appreciated that. It was good to know that some things hadn’t changed.

Still… he had to be very careful when it came to food. Nothing triggered Meleia’s memories quite like a familiar smell. And that made some foods very dangerous. Asra was lucky that the pumpkin bread they both loved so much hadn’t had the same effect on her as the first time he had made them both some simple pasta with cream sauce….

She had grown so much. But there were some risks he simply couldn’t take.

Asra firmly shook his head, trying to stop the spiral of dark thoughts. Meleia gave him a questioning look. As always, Asra answered with an easy smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just lost in thought. And it looks like you’ve gotten the butter and garlic all taken care of.”

Meleia beamed at him. “Yes. Ready.”

Asra’s heart swelled with pride. “Perfect. Let’s put the mushrooms in.”

He allowed himself to squeeze even closer to Meleia, their shoulders brushing together, while they moved onto the next step in the recipe. Which was probably part of the reason things went wrong.

The kitchen was small enough as it was. And Asra had never been one to put things like dishes and mugs away after washing them. What was the point, when he was just going to use them again the next day anyway? Far more convenient to leave them near the sink.

The truly unfortunate thing was that the sink happened to be dangerously close to the stove. So it was probably only natural that Meleia’s elbow bumped into a mug. And, of course, said mug immediately hit the floor, shattering on impact.

Asra winced at the sound. His pulse spiked. But that was nothing compared to Meleia’s reaction. Her breath caught. And she went utterly rigid at the sudden crash.

Asra immediately turned his attention to her. “Meleia, are you hurt?”

Meleia shook her head. She crouched down, moving to clean up the mess.

Asra quickly caught her hand. “No, don’t touch those. Not with your bare hands. Here… I can help.”

Meleia shook her head again, a bit more stubbornly this time. “My fault. I… s-sorry…”

“It’s alright,” Asra said gently. “It was an accident. And no one was hurt. That’s what’s important.”

Meleia still looked utterly guilt-ridden. “But…”

“It’s fine.” With a flick of his fingers, Asra used a little magic to safely gather up all the broken pieces. “See? No harm done.”

“But… Asra…” Meleia hesitantly reached out a hand. “Your… most liked?”

“My favorite?” Asra clarified.

Meleia nodded.

Asra glanced at the shattered fragments. He recognized the pattern, now. All the air seemed to rush out of his lungs.

“Asra, I… n-not want…” Meleia choked out. She was near tears by then. “My fault. I’m sorry…”

Asra couldn’t respond. He hardly heard her. Not over the sound of his own pulse pounding in his ears. Of his own breathing coming far too quickly. Of the shards of ceramic shattering further as they clattered to the floor, his magic immediately petering out in his panic.

He was back, back in a time when Meleia was still gone. When the world had seemed so broken, so empty. When nothing mattered but finding a way to see her again. And it was his fault, it was all his fault… he had left her, fought with her, abandoned her, just so she could fall to the plague. And then… he had made so many more mistakes.

“Asra?”

Asra had forgotten how to breathe. His hands were shaking. Traces of soot still lingered on his fingers. It was just from cleaning the grate. He knew that. But to his eyes, the soot looked like the crimson-stained ash of the Lazaret.

And the shards of his mug had become the even more broken fragments of Meleia’s favorite teacup.

All he could do was stare, eyes wide, hands shaking. A hollow pit had opened up in his stomach, nearly consuming his entire being. He felt just like he had back then. The cup was hers, one that Asra had never dared to use even when it was clean, since it was so special to her. A memory of her life before Vesuvia. It had been hers, and now it was gone, and she was gone…

Everything was gone…

“Asra…”

A gentle touch on his shoulder made Asra flinch. He whipped around… only to see Meleia, staring up at him with eyes wide in concern. Asra’s heart tore a little more at the look on her face.

She wasn’t supposed to see him like this.

Asra managed to take a breath. “I’m sorry, Meleia. I must have gotten lost in thought again…”

Faust somehow managed to scoot across Meleia’s shoulders and transfer herself over to Asra. She gave him a gentle, grounding squeeze.

Safe, she promised. Friend here.

Asra took another breath. He was still far from himself. Still felt a bit detached. But it was better. And Faust was right. Meleia was there. That was what mattered.

Meleia clearly knew something was still wrong. She gazed at Asra for a moment more, searching his face. Probably looking for some way to help. Asra did his best to smile for her. To show her that he was alright, no matter how far from the truth that may have been. It wasn’t very convincing.

Then, slowly, Meleia looked at the broken mug. And with a little frown of concentration—a look that Asra had always found heartbreakingly adorable—she copied the spell Asra had used. She gathered up the shards of ceramic and collected them all in her skirt. Then she sort of… stared at them. She looked rather forlorn.

“My fault,” she said again. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright,” Asra insisted. He carefully put a hand over hers. “It’s just a mug. Besides, we can fix it. Here… let me teach you a spell.”

As he had done a hundred times before, he gently guided her through this impromptu magic lesson. With every word, every gentle touch to guide her hands, his panicked heartbeat slowed. His breathing grew calmer. His trembling hands stilled.

By the time the magic was done, he was nearly himself again. And the mug was whole. Almost. It was put together again, at least, and it would work perfectly. But there were still some faint cracks. A little chip had gone completely missing. And the pattern was ever so slightly off.

Meleia looked even more heartbroken than before.

“What’s wrong?” Asra asked.

“It’s… broken,” she said. “Still.”

“It’s fine,” said Asra with a little smile. “We can use it again now. That’s enough.”

Meleia’s fingers carefully traced the now-imperfect pattern. “All wrong…”

Asra hummed thoughtfully. “Is it? I think it’s still beautiful. It’s different, but that doesn’t make it bad. There’s a kind of beauty in fixing something, too. In seeing all the scars. Now it’s unique.”

“Unique…” Meleia repeated, slowly sounding out the word.

“Yes,” said Asra. “One of a kind. And that’s part of what makes it beautiful.”

Meleia slowly picked up the mended mug. Her gaze was rather distant, and still decidedly sad, as she turned it this way and that. Asra saw how lovely the new, no-longer-symmetrical pattern was. But he was sure that Meleia was just seeing the traces of the cracks.

“Broken,” she said again. “Like me.”

Asra’s heart lurched. He carefully wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a gentle hug. Meleia sank into his embrace.

“No, Meleia,” he whispered. “You’re not broken. I know things have been… challenging. But you’re doing so well. And no matter what happens, you are a whole person. A wonderful person.”

Meleia took a shaky breath. She blinked back tears. She leaned against Asra a moment more, nearly snuggling into the hug. After another few heartbeats, she pulled back.

And she was smiling again. It was faint, but it was genuine.

“Asra?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she said.

Asra smiled in return. “You’re welcome. Did I help?”

“Yes.” Meleia’s smile grew a little wider. Then she glanced up at the stove… and the probably-a-little-too-crispy mushrooms. “Try again?”

“Of course,” said Asra. He got to his feet, taking her hand and pulling her up as well. “Let’s make this the best mushroom rice dish the world has ever seen.”

Meleia laughed. And any remaining worry in Asra’s heart faded. If only for the moment.

Meleia always had a way of making things seem brighter.

The mushroom rice didn’t come out quite the way Asra had expected. Especially when they wound up spending more time making a game out of tossing the rice into the pan instead of just pouring it in there. But it was delicious nonetheless. And Asra was happy that Meleia was feeling better.

She had never voiced the thought before. But Asra doubted that this was the first time she had thought of herself as broken. Asra was grateful that he was able to cheer her up. And eternally thankful for every moment they shared.

Maybe, in a way, things really were like the mug. They were still picking up some pieces. Still learning how to put everything back together.

Nothing would ever be the same as it was before. But they could still make something beautiful.

#vesuvia weekly #cooking class #the arcana #the arcana game #fanfic #oneshot #my stuff #my writing #apprentice meleia #asra x apprentice #tw flashbacks #tw panic attack #angst with a happy ending

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