Drift 1.7
Amy V
I cried until there were no tears left to spill. Until turbulent thoughts were the only thing remaining as I lay there curled into a ball, memories treasured and reviled, vague worries of the future, and the troubles of the present. Eventually, even thought fled and my existence was empty. Dull, emotionless stupor. Neither joyful nor miserable.
Life went on without me, time passing without regard for my feelings.
Knock knock
Dim awareness of the outside world creeped back into me, the unwanted stepchild I wished I could shove out the door with a suitcase in hand. Telling whoever it was to fuck off, however, would not be a winning move.
"Dinner is ready, Amy."
Not Narissa. Not Lady Elissa. I didn't recognize the speaker, but it was curious that they used my name. She sounded young.
Uncurling myself took effort, not physically, but my brain rebelled against taking any action that wasn't sitting as an unmoving rock. My faculties moved at the pace of molasses with an invisible, intangible weight dragging down my every step.
Food was not a welcome prospect right now, but I opened the door anyways - secluding myself in the princess' tower would do me no favors with the Forresters.
The girl from the library greeted me on the other side. More than that, she was an older version of the girl from the family portrait. Brown hair and green eyes further cemented the resemblance to Rodrik and Lady Elissa. Her dress was well embroidered, another clear signifier that she was the lord's daughter.
I had noticed a clear dichotomy of clothing quality between the nobles and commoners. Under different circumstances, I would be more upset at the wealth inequality and the whole stupid system of highborn and lowborn, but I'd had other concerns, and at the moment I couldn't muster up anything beyond apathy. I'd care later when I didn't feel like shit.
"Would it be your preference to sup alone? I can call someone to bring your meal to your room if you'd like."
Doubtless, my puffy eyes and wet cheeks were dead giveaways of my afternoon crying session.
"That's alright," I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, "I'm fine to eat with you all tonight."
She took that at face value. "Shall we go together then? I'm Talia, it's very nice to meet you, Amy. "
I took her outstretched hand, but instead of initiating a handshake, she began to lead me down the corridor.
Currently in a growth spurt. Additional calcium is required for optimal growth, my power supplied me with information regarding her health and condition.
"It's nice to meet you too, Talia."
"Don't let my brother Ethan pester you too much. Sometimes I feel his tact could use some training to match his wit." She looked aside at me. "If he bothers you overmuch, don't feel afraid to tell him to knock it off."
Well developed vocal cords. Fine control. Does she sing regularly?
"Um- I'll keep that in mind."
"I do hope you don't mind my excitedness," she apologized, "We so rarely receive guests, especially ones as interesting as you."
"Thank you?"
Light muscle development in the upper body. Concentrated most strongly in the back and core. Indicative of some kind of training? I recalled past patients - this didn't feel like traditional weight training. It was more reminiscent of…
Swimming maybe? No, that didn't feel right, yoga?
I'd figure it out later. We'd arrived at the main hall already.
"We would very much enjoy it if you ate with us." Talia led me to the table closest to the dais, and I followed.
Multiple faces were recognizable to me, Lord Gregor, Lady Elissa, Rodrik, the Armsmaster lookalike, and baldy. I struggled for a moment to remember their names, Royland and Duncan, that's right. There were others I hadn't yet met.
Examining Talia with my powers had oddly put me in a better mood. Better, but still not good. I took the offered seat between Talia and Lady Elissa, the latter buffering me from Lord Gregor and the rest of the table, for which I was grateful. The only occupants to my left were Talia herself, a grinning boy I was betting was Ethan, and a younger child.
I thought it was a bit awkward that I had been placed between Elissa and her children, kind of like I was a trophy on display. As a guest -and a foreign one at that- seating me at the main table next to the lord's children and wife would probably be seen as a position of honor, a signifier for my status and importance.
Instead it made me supremely uncomfortable. Though, would I have been less tense seated anywhere else in the hall? Unlikely.
Hopefully, the evidence of my tears wasn't easily visible to everyone here, but that might have been overly optimistic. Of the several dozen or so people seated and supping, more than a few shot curious glances my way.
Their combined gaze pressed down on me, but I did my best to ignore it and focus on other things. Like the food. I wasn't hungry earlier, and I still wasn't now, but if nothing else it could distract me for a while.
The servers had laid out the meal buffet style, a mixture of trout and chicken roasted in garlic and savory spices, lighter breads and baked potatoes paired with a creamy cheese dip and chopped leeks, a selection of berries more plump and juicy than those I had foraged, and pitchers of a sweetly smelling beverage. It was a minor feast.
The combination of aromas and a rumbling stomach overcame my melancholy, so I loaded up my plate with the offerings.
As I ate, more people filtered into the hall, filling it to bursting. With them came a riot of noise, uproarious laughter, slamming of tankards, dozens of conversations overlapping. Closing my eyes and letting the sound wash over me, I could almost convince myself I was attending a banquet back home, one of those fundraising events I got dragged to twice a year. I opened my eyes and returned to cold reality.
Oh well, the drinks were good. I washed down my meal with a sweet cup of juice flavored with blackberries. It burned more on the way down than what Cley had shared with me.
"-Amy."
"Huh?" I looked at Talia, "Sorry, what was that?"
"I asked if you were enjoying the food so far."
"Yes, thank you. It's very good."
"You should thank the cooks," the grinning boy winked at me, "they might just give you something sweet for your troubles."
"He thinks himself more charming than he is," Talia wore an exasperated expression.
"Ethan," the boy grinned, "welcome to Ironrath, Amy."
"Uh- Thanks."
My conversational skills were on full display.
He continued unperturbed, "Glad to see you like our fare. What sorts of foods do the people of your homeland eat?"
"Actually, we have potatoes and chicken and all the same foods you have here."
Given the similarities in species, language, and now diet, I was beginning to lean towards the alternate Earth theory. It was hard to believe that all of it could have evolved on an alien world in a way that so coincidentally matched my own.
"Truly? They have potatoes where you're from? I thought that was a strictly Northern crop." he hummed, "There must be something exotic you can share with us."
Exotic. Why is it always exotic with these people? Wait, I bet they don't have- "Pizza."
"Pete-za?"
"P-I-Z-Z-A, pizza. You spread cheese and tomato sauce on bread dough with whatever toppings you want then bake it in an oven. It's really good. I'll show you guys how to make it sometime. Er- I'm not the best chef though, so keep that in mind."
What was the harm in a little cultural exchange? I'd introduce the best American dishes to Westeros yet.
"Tomato sauce? I'm not sure I've heard of that," Talia said.
"Can't say I have either," Ethan agreed.
"Tomato sauce. It's made from tomatoes, like the plant?"
Brother and sister shared a glance.
"It might be a mistranslation," she said, "What does a tomato look and taste like?"
"Ummm-" I paused to think of a good description, "Tomatoes come in a variety of colors, but they're normally bright red. They have skin like a bell pepper or a persimmon and gooey when you bite into one. The taste is closer to a vegetable than a fruit, kind of a balance between acidity and sweetness." I wracked my brain for more comparisons. "Oh! It's similarly sized to an apple. At least the ones you use for pizza sauce are," I finished.
Talia had a frown of concentration on her face while Ethan looked puzzled.
Talia spoke first, "I've heard of bell peppers."
"It's Dornish," Ethan clarified.
Like that helped me understand at all. I took another sip of my drink.
Elissa dropped her conversation with her husband to join us. "Persimmons are grown deep in the Reach, south of Highgarden." She tapped her chin in thought. "I've tried all kinds of Dornish peppers, including your bell peppers. But as for your tomato, I've not a clue. Sorry to say, I'm not it's grown in any of the Seven Kingdoms."
There went my dreams of introducing modern civilization's greatest achievement to an entirely new world.
"That's alright," I said dejectedly.
"But pizza does sound like a fascinating dish." Ethan didn't sound like he was cheering me up, more like he was just that intrigued by foreign cuisine. "Are there any others that you're partial to? Perhaps we can find ingredients that we do have."
I drained the rest of my cup, trying to recall any dishes that seemed remotely feasible. "Well-"
Our foodie conversation continued on, and I began to form an image of Westeros in my head based solely on the crops grown and animals raised in each region.
Being from the North, my hosts had a great deal to say about its cuisine and how it related to their way of life. Apparently, we were experiencing unseasonably warm weather right now, allowing for extended growing periods of crops that otherwise wouldn't have survived. Come winter though, the landscape would be inhospitable, and they claimed people relied on preserved food stocks or the hardiest crops and game.
At one point, the toddler -I learned his name was Ryon- told us his favorite foods. Butternut squash and sweet cakes. Unfortunately for the boy, sugar was an expensive import for the North.
Gourds, squashes, and highland fruits abounded in the mountainous Vale. Many folk raised goats and sheep in greater abundance than in the North.
All manner of fresh water fish could be found swimming the myriad currents of the Riverlands, so much so that the Lord Paramount took the trout as his heraldry. The riven sodden region was fertile and south enough to support grains like wheat, oats, and barley in greater quantities than its northern neighbor.
Further south were the Westerlands, the Stormlands, and the Crownlands, and although they each had their distinct culinary footprints, the three regions shared similar enough climates to support most of the same crops. There were differences in what game could be hunted, but that was of less interest to me.
Dorne was described to me as the southernmost boot of Westeros, a land of arid desert, and it was at this point I gave up on trying to match Westeros to any of Earth Bet's continents. I probably shouldn't have tried in the first place when the two worlds didn't share the same moon. Dornish farmers grew varieties of peppers in the summer and many species of citrus fruits in the winter. I counted Oranges, lemons, nectarines, and grapefruits among others. No tomatoes.
The real standout however, the uncontested breadbasket of the entire continent, more than matching the combined output of the other six kingdoms through sheer volume was the Reach. Waves of grains, corn, and beans were harvested, stored, and shipped everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. A massive assortment of fruits including strawberries, grapes, figs, apricots, melons, peaches, pears, and plums did not make an exhaustive list. The Reach thrived with olive groves, vineyards, cattle ranchers and pig raisers. You name it, they had it.
Not gonna lie, that place sounds waaay better than this dump, I didn't much look forward to the cold.
"-sherbet, a combination of cream and pureed fruit, chilled with ice." Lady Elissa finished describing ice cream.
"We have something similar to that too, but we call it ice cream. I don't think it would make for a very good winter dessert," I giggled.
I had no idea where my sour mood had gone. Somehow, cataloging the crops and cuisine of Westeros had brought me such simple joy. Despite the cultural divide and despite the tenuous circumstances leading up to this, socialization had never been this easy for me before, my self consciousness fleeing as the night progressed.
"No," she smiled back, "it's very much a southern summer treat."
I finished off my second cup. "Well, it wouldn't have been so bad this morning. Felt hot enough on the way here."
"Folks are calling it summer's last dying heat," Ethan shrugged, "It's been the longest summer on record, but winter always comes."
"What would you know of winter, my summer child?" Elissa playfully chided her son.
"I was born in winter, mother." He spoke in such an innocent tone that it wrapped right back around to being smug.
Talia rolled her eyes.
"Mhm, I'm certain you have such vivid memories of the fierce snows," his mother shot back.
Why would he not remember winter? He's definitely old enough…
Something about their wording niggled at my mind. Westerosi had a strange way of referring to the seasons, and I couldn't help but feel that I had forgotten some important piece of context.
I reached to refill my cup, but Elissa put her hand on mine.
"I don't wish to overreach, Amy, but it may be important to keep a level head tonight."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"This would be your third cup, no? I have an eye for people's tolerances, and I do believe that you may be approaching your limit."
Oh fuck, "Is- is this alcoholic." I pointed at the pitcher.
"Strongwine, dear. Did you not know?" She rested a hand on my shoulder.
A sudden bout of lightheadedness washed over me, making me sway in her arms.
"I- um, no. I didn't. Wh- why didn't you tell me?"
Two cups. Carol always did say it lowered your inhibitions. I thought it was funny how holding a conversation seemed easier.
"I'm sorry, Amy. I didn't realize you weren't aware. Here," she reached for a separate pitcher near Ryon's side of the table, "milk to cut the wine. And another loaf wouldn't hurt either." Elissa set a hunk of bread on my plate.
My power supplied several methods for modifying bacteria that could synthesize alcohol degrading enzymes. Each idea went ignored as I wolfed the bread and downed the milk Elissa poured for me.
"We can postpone until the morning," she spoke quietly underneath the hall's clamor.
I thought about it. I had wanted to go into this with my best foot forward, ready to think as clearly and logically as I was able, but this threw a wrench in those plans. Maybe I should have delayed until morning, but I wanted to get this over with, damnit. Waiting would do no good when I needed to figure out where things stood as soon as possible.
"No. No, that's alright, just um- just give me a bit of time."
"Of course," she reassured.
I let my liver do its work while I sat motionless at the table. Ethan and Talia must have sensed the shift in my mood, because they left me to my own devices.
Plates were cleared and cups drained. Conversations petered out, and people filtered out of the great hall. Time was running short, and the meeting drew near.
I seemed to be fine. There was no slurring of speech, and the room didn't spin anymore, but how would I know if I was in the right headspace? Drunks sometimes didn't realize just how emotional or irrational they were behaving while under the influence. Did I really want to risk screwing this up?
It would be so very easy to fix with just a few modifications to the ribosomes of any common bacteria to make my problem go away.
No.
I wouldn't break my rules, not for this. The consequences of a single mistake could be catastrophic. I had no intention of bringing the germs in Guns, Germs, and Steel to Westeros. It was kill order worthy levels of potential disaster, and worse, it was villainous to mess around with powers like that.
Shaping plants was one thing, changing bacterial structures was on an entirely different level.
I'll have to go into this sober, errr drunk.
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation at my hosts. They didn't think to tell me anything earlier? I knew it probably didn't even register to them, being from a culture where the drinking age was irresponsibly low, for Christ's sake, the kids were drinking it too. At least theirs had seemed watered down compared to what I imbibed.
The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got. Alcohol's dangerous for developing brains. Doesn't Elissa care about her own children's health?
And what a fool I'd been. How could I not have realized sooner what I was putting into my own body? Fuck!
Flushed cheeks heated my head into a daze, the frustration beating a drum in my temple. I thought our conversation had been pleasant, but it was nothing more than a fake reprieve from the misery, returned now greater than before. I wanted out of here. Out of this room. Out of this world.
I can't do this tonight, the thought struck clarity into me like a gong ringing in an enclosed space. There was no out, and I couldn't go into delicate discussions with these emotions raging inside of me.
"Elissa."
"Yes, Amy?"
"I changed my mind. I can't do this, not right now." I bit back the first acidic retort that came to my mind. "Can we wait until tomorrow?"
"Of course."
She laid a hand on my shoulder, but I flinched back.
She withdrew, "I think it's time I retired for the evening," her mouth wavered, "Good night, Amy."
All I managed was a vague grunt. I didn't spare pleasantries with the kids before heading off.
Not waiting for an escort, I retraced the path back to my room and sat gingerly on my mattress. Rubbing my temples did little for the budding migraine.
I sighed, I always find a way to fuck it all up.